random acts

Goodbye

2009-04-09T18:10:00.004+10:00

Hi all,

This is Cate's husband - just letting you know that while she has found blogging and crafting to be extremely fulfilling and has appreciated all the support you have offered her, the arm injury continues to be a major problem, and we have to draw this chapter to a close.

We both hope that she will heal up and you will see her around in all her crafty glory, but until that time we wish you adieu.

Thank you all,

Mr Jimmy Trickle.

ABC kids (Italian style)

2009-03-31T10:17:00.004+11:00

Earlier this month I was soooo thrilled to discover that Misseri Studio had decided to start a YouTube channel. These guys really kicked off my life-long love of animation.

For those of us who spent their afternoons suckling at the cathode nipple during the seventies and eighties - hopefully these vids will bring back some good memories.

I dare you to resist singing the AEIOU theme song on loop (to the increasing distress of your friends and loved ones).

And just because he was so fantastically animated - I also present a bit of La Linea.

In true Italian style - there was an 'Adults Only' episode La sexilinea. Cicciolina was definitely not a cultural aberation.

(Until I looked her up on Wikipedia I didn't know but she used to be married to one of my favourite artists Jeff Koons - curiouser and curiouser).

But I'll let you find that one for yourselves. We have standards here.

Albeit not very effective ones. But standards nevertheless.

Souper Sunday - late edition

2009-03-30T09:46:00.000+11:00

Ahh - I could blame the house guests for posting this late - but that's just being petty. Besides, they really loved the soup.

I will spare you the vegan rhubarb and apple crumble that followed (just a bit too odd). Vegan desserts are definitely not my strong suit.

La Sfarrata with Rosemary oil
(adapted from Jill Dupleix, The Age Epicure)

1 onion, chopped
3 celery stalks, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
3 tablespoons Olive Oil (Extra virgin)
1/2 cup lentils (Australian blue are great)
1/2 cup pearled barley
1 x 400g can chopped tomatoes
1 litre vegetable stock
Sweet Chilli sauce (optional)
1 x 400g can cannellini beans
1 x 400g can chickpeas
Salt & Pepper

Rosemary Oil* to serve

In a large heavy saucepan heat the oil and lightly cook the onion, celery and garlic.

When softened, add the lentils, barley, tomatoes and stock. Bring to the boil and simmer gently until the lentils and barley are soft (about 30 minutes). I also add a good slug of sweet chilli sauce. It takes the edge off the acidity of the tomatoes, and adds just a hint of warmth to the soup.

Meanwhile, drain and rinse the beans and chickpeas. Add to pot and simmer gently for a further 30 minutes. Season generously with salt and pepper. This soup is great fresh - but like most hearty soups - it is even better the next day.

*To make the Rosemary Oil:
Pick a decent bunch of rosemary. Carefully pick off the green leaves and place in a mortar, discarding the woody stalks. Generously drizzle with extra virgin olive oil and sprinkle with a good pinch of coarse salt and some freshly cracked pepper (adds both flavour and acts as grist to release the oils). Pound with the pestle for about 5 minutes. It will make a pretty unsightly concoction - and the rosemary will not break down much (unlike when making a basil pesto). It should start to smell great and the oil will start to take up the colour of the rosemary. You may need to add more oil (the leaves do soak up a lot). Let it "ruminate" for a few minutes then carefully scoop it out and place it into a fine tea strainer set above a small bowl. Let the oil drain off and using the back of a teaspoon press the leaves to get as much oil out as possible. Discard the spent leaves.

You should now have tablespoon or so of bright greenish oil with a darker sediment. It won't seem like much but it is quite strong and very pungent. The oils are very volatile and will deteriorate after a few hours - so you only need enough to drizzle on your soup (about 1 teaspoon per bowl).

To serve - ladle the soup into large bowls and drizzle with the rosemary oil (and more pepper if desired). A bit of freshly grated parmesan might also be nice - but not essential.

Lights Out...

2009-03-28T17:48:00.006+11:00

Earth hour approaches!

Queen B candle at the ready - perfect for some carbon neutral scrabble.

Little Things

2009-03-26T14:51:00.010+11:00

We all like to collect something. Bills, dodgy boyfriends ... wrinkles.

Throughout my life I have spent many an hour engaged in the thrill of the hunt - looking for that one item to add to my collection.

When I was young it was rabbit figurines, then later it became lego, game+watches and transformers.

Years later I met and moved in with a collector and then it was glow-in-the-dark things, children's books, more lego, fisher price toys, coins, action figures, stamps, comic books, Japanese pottery, ceramic kettles, robots, CDs, DVDs, fabric and notions etc etc until the collections became a collection all of their own. Collecting for collectings sake. Compulsive and automatic.

We started to run out of room. And dusting took forever.

All this stuff became burdensome. Like a weight around our necks. It had to stop.

It was just stuff. And more stuff did not equal more happy.

We decided, resolutely, that we had owned it once, but now it was time to let it go.

Slowly, bit by bit, the collections were broken down. Stuff was given away, sold at markets, put on ebay, taken to the op-shop. Given to those who needed it - or just wanted it more than we.

Some stuff was difficult to let go of. So some stuff was allowed to be kept.

My inner collector went back to basics - to where it all began.

My grandmother's minature tea set. Some cheap, made in Japan, badly painted little thing that as a small girl I coveted with all my heart.

Not only was it small - the teapot worked! Cute and practical. I was smitten.

Eventually it was gifted to me. It is the foundation of my new collection. A collection so small it fits into a little box. Less than half a shoe box. Not burdensome at all.

A minature collection. Of Little Things.

There is only one rule for this collection. It must not only be minature - it must also be functional. It must do the thing that it's full size counterpart does.

A teapot must pour. A pencil must write. Simple.

So here are my Little Things:

2 inch tall Little Golden Book. Appropriate title for such a small book, don't you think?

My Granpa's Lilliputian dictionaries. He carried these with him during the war. They are a bit fragile now and the spines have split. Mainly because as a small child I used to obsess over them. Typical. Survived months of living rough, criss-crossing Europe in the Polish Free Army.

Only to be nearly destroyed 30 years later by a precocious 4 year old.

I believe the world's smallest comic book - actually the business card from Lambiek, the world's best comic book shop in Amsterdam.

Cards anyone? We could get a game of Canaster going - but they are a bugger to shuffle.

Perfect for a bit of 3 card Monty in a flea bag coffin hotel.

My tool kit of sorts. All working. Five cent coin for size reference (19mm). I declared the pocket knife going through Swiss customs. They laughed at me.

I haven't used the pencil yet (because I haven't found a sharpener small enough).

Smallest wooden block set - comes in a matchbox. Not made any more apparently - choking hazard much?

All that remains of my once 180 strong miniature fragrance collection. Amassed after spending my Uni days as a Fragrance Consultant at various department stores (i.e. one of those annoying, overly made up types that insist on giving you pieces of cardboard drenched in stink as you enter the store).

Real leather baseball, tarot cards, my smallest Japanese tea set (not an actually working teapot, cheats - I know), small sewing kit - for small holes only, Barbie doll coat hanger and the smallest set of Maneki Neko I have found (only beckons small treasures - lost buttons, beads and such like).

And of course my little rubber ducky...

Thanks Pip for an awesome theme that I just couldn't resist!

Cato's first Doll Quilt

2009-03-24T12:24:00.019+11:00

I just got back from an appointment with my pain specialist. It seems that if my current drug regime and daily activity management system (ie. spend my days watching TV) don't improve matters the next step is Ketamine injections and a 9 day hospital stay.

Surely I must have miss heard? He is a low talker after all.

But NINE days? C sections don't even keep you in for that long.

I must have got it wrong.

So perhaps the bright side of this encounter is that maybe I am actually only going deaf. Add it to forgetful, vague and the fact that putting my socks and shoes on is a task I need to ready myself for (thongs are the #1 thing I am going to miss about summer).

Old before my time, unless I just caught a bad case of the geriatrics from the hydro pool. Because let's face it, I am the youngest client there by about 30 years.

Not that there is anything wrong with being old. Really, I love old people (except of course if, god forbid, I am stuck behind you at a shopping centre).

I do intend to be one one day- and heartily embrace my codgerism with a gnarled shake of my fist at the young kids walking on my lawn. But I did hope to at least experience middle age before I got there.

I want my crisis and sports car too!

(edit: someone didn't forget to take the bitch pills this morning I'm afraid)

In the meantime, the highlight of my weekend was a four year old's birthday party - which left me completely spent for the rest of the weekend. I almost fell asleep during the dystopian bloodfest that was the Watchmen movie. Then again it was a matinee session. Traditional nap time at chez Trickle.

Slumber aside, I did enjoy the movie - even if it did stray from the original comic book (Hazzah! Nit picking - the unmistakable vestige of the comic book geek).

A bit of ultra violence was a interesting counterpoint to an overload of PINK. And ballerinas.

I had to turn my fabric collection inside out and trawl the scrap pile to find enough appropriately coloured patterns.

Fortunately the finished product only had to be 25 x 35 cms - so I really didn't have to find that much. But even then I only just made it.

(There is a reason why I don't fill these posts with pictures of my fabric collection. Shades of navy blue and black anyone?)

Putting myself in the mind's eye of a 4 year old girl who is Angelina Ballerina obsessed, I thought that mice with miniature tutus would make me lose my shit.

Of course, I didn't quite factor in just how long a little bit of embroidery would take with my sewing arm ailments. But it was worth it.

Even if after the careful pacing of the project each day, it still left me up late the night before and dipping into my painkiller cache.

Please don't tell Jms (I promised him it wouldn't come to that).

Um, hang on - he reads these posts too.

Even after a severe chastising from a very disappointed husband: Still worth it.

Because it is soooo cute. Because it made the birthday girl's eyes sparkle. Because it got immediately taken to the bedroom and I was told it was 'very special'. Too special even for the pram for which it was intended. No - its going to be hung on the wall with her other favourite things.

And here was I truly expecting it to end up trampled on the floor, covered in cake crumbs like most toys at a small child's birthday party do.

Dodgy machine quilting aside (alas no walking foot) this was a lot of fun and very satisfying to make. I now completely understand the myriad doll/mini/art quilt collectors and flicker groups out there.

This could be a new obsession - perfectly suited to one who has a very short window of opportunity for work and the attention span to match. And as for pink - I think could be hooked.

Wordless Wednesday

2009-03-18T15:18:00.003+11:00

Completely (t)riveting

2009-03-13T23:10:00.003+11:00

I had the fortune of going to Bendigo today. Along with half of Melbourne it would seem.

It's hard to imagine having a burning desire for a trivet. Which, as it happens. I do. It must be the hallmark of affluenza.

Then again, those folks in their adobe huts are probably completely sorted on this front - and are tsk-tsking as we speak.

Given the theme of this weeks crafting exercises (and the other bird projects I had on hand too naff to share) I thought I'd make myself a trivet.

Indeed isn't this what every good host finds themselves doing at 10 pm the night before they have special guests coming for dinner?

But there WILL be hot dishes - brimming with hot food.

So I need something to put them on.

I started drawing bird patterns that might be suitable - but everything was becoming samey. So I tried something a little more modernist rather than cutsey.

I'm not sure it works.

But then again it will be hidden by smouldering (messy) food. It may not even survive it's debut aesthetically intact.

In my 'night before crafting' after a long day I also discovered a few things about industrial grade wool felt:

It is REALLY hard to cut. Hence the plethora of laser cut stuff out there.

You can't dry felt stuff to it. Broke several needles, literally hammering this one home.

You can't hand sew through it. Unless you have needles made of diamond tipped titanium and an index finger of STEEL. But you can bob around the surface and perform some semblance of embroidery.

For a moment it looked like it was going to be awesome - but now I'm just tired and wondering what the hell I am doing still at the computer.

Perhaps it will look better in the morning.

Niwatori hai!

2009-03-12T16:58:00.002+11:00

Let me keep this short. I am too tired and grumpy for words.

I don't actually own any Japanese craft books. But if I did, this is how I imagine they would interpret a log cabin hen.

Lots of yummy linen in subtle, neutral shades. Wooden buttons. Contrasting thread. Recycled kimono silk.

In this case, scaled up from a pin cushion size, to something large enough to hold the door open.

1.5 kg of wheat in this baby - that's one hungry chicken.

Enough pretty, cutesy craft here.

New rule. In our house you have to be useful.

As self appointed law maker - new rule does not apply to me. Something to do with absolute sovereignty, as I recall.

Wordless Wednesday - Bird

2009-03-11T08:30:00.006+11:00

Bird belt buckle by Fosterweld

Aksfile Nani Bird by aks

Fill in the Cat from NEL

Alexander Girard's Bird courtesy of AskArt

Fig Bandit courtesy of my backyard

A blue bird of happiness

2009-03-10T20:15:00.003+11:00

Woot!

This has been a crafty saga of epic proportions.

Not so much in the actual drama, but in the long winded, takes for ever to get to the point, type of epic sagas (James Joyce, I'm looking in your direction).

I'm ashamed to admit this, but this little guy (technically a bower bird) has been kicking around unfinished since (ahem) May 2005.

I'm not proud of it, and I will surrender my craftster's license immediately, if not sooner (wait, no membership - no union or regulatory industry association - we are a bunch of brazen, anarchic mercenaries aren't we?)

I digress.

Up until 24 hours ago, it was a discarded prototype from a children's mobile I was commissioned to make for Gorman. I sewed over 8 of these not so little buggers and I guess after all that hand sewing, I kinda shoved this one to the back of the cupboard to forget about.

But when I went through my stash of linen for another project, I remembered this guy was kicking around somewhere. The linen side has a beautiful silver foil sheen - too nice to throw away (as I had obviously decided at the time) but there was not enough of it to fashion into something else.

So when he was resurrected from the scrap box about a week ago - he really was looking quite forlorn. Not only a rejected colour way (brown), he had barely any stuffing, no binding and a had been left half unpicked because he was the wrong shape for the final design.

Well the baby-poo brown pinwale cord had to go (now replaced with a deep midnight blue cord). And at the 11th hour I found a really lovely liberty print in a matching blue. Digging further in the scrap box I found just enough silk bias binding to finish it - and voila!

Elegant and cute at at the same time. Just like me.

Make a little (felt) birdhouse in your soul

2009-03-09T17:40:00.009+11:00

They Might Be Giants lyrics aside, I'd firstly like to celebrate the small matter of Jimmy Trickle being the last blogger user on earth to dispense with the template header.

Hence, I humbly present to you my Powerful Owl totem, who will hopefully keep a stern eye on all things at chez Trickle and keep me in check. At least at night anyways. I wouldn't want to interrupt his beauty sleep. He should help with the rodent population too.

Secondly, I would like to celebrate a return to all things crafty - with a week - yes, a WHOLE week - of daily completed craft projects.

She's serious folks - this is a publicly stated attempt to extractus digitus and finish some of those little craft projects that have been lying about the place 95% complete. And the theme is all things avian (being as I am obsessed with particular motifs).

Mind you, before you go and get yourself in a fervent lather - I should highlight the fine print:

a) I am only counting weekdays (cheats); and

b) it is important to note that I have not specified that they will be MY completed craft projects (spoken like a true ex-lawyer).

Yes - should I find I have bitten off more than I can chew (highly likely) or that daytime naps prove too attractive (extremely likely) I will dispense with my contractual obligations by presenting you with the doubtlessly superior, bird themed works of others.

Oh she's crafty (to quote the Beastie Boys).

But without feather ado (aaaiiieeee!) as it is Monday, and the start of the working week for those not fortunate to have a public holiday, I present you with my little felt birdhouses.

These were actually a Christmas decoration I started back in October. Given that my Christmas tree is only one foot tall, it was a slightly ill conceived idea. But they are, nevertheless deserving of existence, in spite of this fact.

The genius of the creation (if I may say so myself) is that the perch is made of a cinnamon stick. So they make up for being 'twee' to grumpy husbands by spicing the air with an amiable scent.

I've also put a a handful of cloves in there to give it some olfactory kick (potpourri would justifiably, warrant the serving of divorce papers).

See you tomorrow with, to quote the comedic mastermind Daniel Hall:

"shouldn't unless mean more?"

Souper Sunday - French Onion Edition

2009-03-08T14:14:00.017+11:00

I was planning to start Souper Sunday with a different recipe, but when I was at the market yesterday there were the most awe inspiringly large onions that I quickly changed my mind.

Large shiny brown asteroids of goodness that practically begged to be made into soup - and just about put my back out as I loaded them in to the trolley.

Onions ARE the bane of my cooking existence to peel and slice - so for this recipe if you only have to prep 4 big ones it seems a lot less tedious and hard on the eyes.

In fact as I sat on the couch and watched TV whilst Jms peeled and chopped them, my eyes hardly hurt at all.

This recipe is dead easy - but does benefit from a slow food attitude. Good caramelisation, with an absence of burnt pots, requires an abundance of time, low heat and a steady hand.

Whoever called it stainless steel lied.

French Onion Soup

1.5 kg - 2 kg large brown onions (approx 4 very big ones)
Olive Oil
Generous knob of butter
Heaped teaspoon cornflour
1/4 - 1/2 cup white wine (or verjuice, tho' quite sweet)
1 litre beef or vegetable stock (I use the Massel "beef style" stock cubes which ticks both the lazy cook and vegetarian boxes)
1 litre water
Black pepper
Salt

Baguette or other nice crusty bread
Gruyere cheese (or anything floating a round in the fridge with a bit of flavour)

Peel, halve and slice the onions.

Melt a generous slosh of olive oil with butter in a heavy based, large saucepan or stock pot. Add onions and stir to coat well. Lower heat, cover and let sweat, stirring occasionally.

When translucent (15 - 20 mins), remove lid, raise the heat a little and caramelise, stirring often (you want the onions to be a nice honey brown - but with no charred bits). This can take a little while - and is really the only part of this soup that requires a little attentiveness, especially towards the end. Like risotto - don't let yourself be distracted by the teev or there will be a (stinky) charred disaster. Though a few darker flecks can be tolerated in my experience.

Eventually everything will start to catch and hopefully get some serious colour - which is when you want to deglaze the pot by adding the wine. But don't lean over the pot unless you want to be temporarily blinded and instantly intoxicated.

Allow the alcohol to steam off , then slowly stir in the stock/water. Add some extra water if you want your soup a little thinner.

Mix the cornflour with a little water to make a runny paste and add to the soup. You can leave this bit out if you prefer a clear broth type soup - but I do it because I think it gives it a slightly heartier, fuller mouth feel.

Simmer for 30 minutes. Generously season with pepper and add salt if desired.

Slice baguette into rounds on the angle, and grill with a slice or two of cheese on top.

To serve, place a piece of bread or two in each bowl and ladle the hot soup over the top.

Bon appétit!

Ps. In French the expression "Ce n'est pas tes oignons" (literally translated as "It's not your onions") means it is none of your business. So there.

A bit of colour on the sideboard

2009-03-03T09:26:00.008+11:00

Things (hopefully) look a little prettier around here.

Last night I finally managed to add some pictures down the side - as you can see.

If you've been visiting here and wondering why it was so drab - blogger let me delete my pictures, but for some unknown reason would not let me add new ones in. So my new year "spring clean" took a bit longer than expected.

Add to that my best beloved installed Vista on my pooter and wiped my only copy of Adobe Illustrator. Yay. But to his credit, its back in all its updated glory - so I can do some more drawings. It doesn't mean that I will though (chances are I will just trawl through old uni files and change the colours).

The ones I have added are a bit crude and unfinished to my liking (and the resolution on Starry is all grainy - WTF?) but a change from having glaring white backgrounds that will slowly dull your eye sight.

(If you are vaguely interested - the old illustrations are over in my flickr account)

PS. The other half also brought to my attention that most folks don't know about 'hover text'. Next time I post a photo - try moving your mouse pointer over the image. Its pretty cool - and sometimes I even make with the funny.

A pinch and a punch

2009-03-01T19:44:00.006+11:00

The first day of March and officially the first day of Autumn, therefore in my book it's ...

SOUP WEATHER!

(the crowd goes wild with excitement)

Hand me my stock pot man!

Note:
The seasons first foray (above) was vaguely edible, but definitely NOT worthy of promotion. Celebrity chef (and your talentless ghost writer) - I cast a pox on your gourmet salt flakes and I hope your copper pots never polish clean.

I should have twigged at the inclusion of 1 and a 1/2 teaspoons of turmeric in PUMPKIN soup - the redecoration of one's small intestine to a bright yellow hue being the hallmark of good cooking. If it were Martha Stewart ... maybe.

I remain undeterred and hereby launch what I will refer to herein as Souper Sunday. My favourite soup recipes for your own enjoyment and test kitchen expertise.

Hopefully curse free.

Highly recommended

2009-02-26T13:54:00.007+11:00

Home made ice-cream sandwiches. I can't believe I hadn't thought of this before!

To all my southern hemisphere friends - get a batch of these babies in the oven before it gets too hot again.

Recipe from Smitten Kitchen (where else do I lurk these days?). I halved the ingredients and still had enough for 12 large (9 cm across) pairs of star biscuits. I rolled mine to about 4mm (plenty chunky enough).

Next time I might reduce the sugar a little. Or just find some REAL vanilla bean ice-cream (not the weird, whiter than white stuff I got from the moopersarket). You know - creamy and flavoursome rather than icky sweet. Though I can't say I got any complaints.

With many thanks to Whirly-girl for taste testing for me.

And as she suggested - feel free to leave the biscuits out overnight so they are a little softer. That way when you slather on the good stuff - they'll be nice and squidgy like the Monaco bars used to be.

In the meantime, I promise there will be some crafting around here soon. Unless Smitten Kitchen decides to cut me a deal.

Blame the new mixer - every time I make toast in the morning, there it is cooing in my ear "Make something yummy... your husband will love you ... and your waistline won't mind".

And because it pretty much does everything for me (compared with 5 minutes worth of cutting feeling like I've just ascended K2) it usually wins - not to mention the tasty treats at the end.

Fortunately or unfortunately, I can't decide which, now that I am going to Hydrotherapy twice a week, the sobering reality of having to shoe horn myself into last years bathers - is starting to win the war against temptation. Almost.

So maybe I'll get some sewing done instead. Take the dog for a walk. Write the great Australian novel. Talk to friends. Or just start watching Buffy from the beginning again.

Wordless Wednesday

2009-02-25T22:35:00.000+11:00

Argh

2009-02-20T09:30:00.002+11:00

Do you ever want to run to the rooftop and shout...

"OH MY GOD - I AM SUCH AN EFFING TWAT"

Fortunately I live in low-density housing, otherwise it might elicit some agreement.

Although the events provoking this outburst are cringe worthy, they are gentle reader (and fortunately for me), quite irrelevant. They were also, in a manner of speaking, completely avoidable. And sadly, are most definitely repeatable.

I am a danger to myself and others.

And as an addendum to this tale, I recently said, OUT A LOUD, "testicles" instead of "textiles" to an industry supplier. He was not amused. Especially, as it was his company's name. Named after him. Mortified does not even come close.

Kill me now.

6/6

2009-02-19T13:19:00.006+11:00

Lil tagged me with this meme. Which, as she mentioned, is a welcome distraction in our burnt out neck of the woods.

Normality will creep in the back-door while we try to keep ourselves busy through tragedy.

Admittedly I was at little hesitant about posting this photo.

I tried reorganising the folders in different ways in an attempt to cheat on this theme (the 6th photo from your 6th folder) and uncover something a little more inspiring. To lift our spirits somewhat.

But as though the universe was on to me, every which way I tried to avoid this particular photo, I found myself looking at pictures I had already posted before. Yawn.

Such a drab little picture. No artistic merit (therefore completely inappropriate even as blogging egotism).

It doesn't come with an earth shattering story, nor capture some brilliant experience or moment in time.

It is merely one of those mundane moments of miss shot photographs that litter our hard drives.

We are not so good with the delete button. So we have a lot of pictures of out-of-focus cats, blurry dogs and carpet/door frame combinations. So very unremarkable it can't even be championed as wonk.

I'm sure Sprocket was doing something tres magnifique. Knowing Jms' penchant for certain photographic themes, the dog probably had something unfortunate attached to his face. Usually his own drool.

(A quick perusal of the other photos in the folder confirms this fact). Consider yourself spared.

But it did make me laugh.

At my little doglet that is such a prancing pony and oblivious to his own ridiculousness. At my husband who insists on capturing these puerile moments. A man of such extraordinary intelligence, who still thinks farts are hilarious. HILARIOUS. I love them both for their strengths, but it is their weaknesses, that enmeshes them in totality into my heart.

So forgive me this indulgence, and consider this photo a tip o' the hat to those mundane moments that by aggregate, make up our hours, days and weeks. Largely unremarkable but the essential foundation for the pinnacle events in our lives. And a stark reminder of how horrid our carpet is.

I guess I'm not really a meme girl. I lack the commitment and I don't really have an inner circle of online buddies. Without wanting to reference the old "blogging v high school" chestnut, I'll happily admit I tend to sift around the edges of established groups.

So without wanting to seem like I've just passed you a cursed chain letter, I tag the following blogging acquaintances and friendly strangers:

Kootoyoo, Renegade Umberella and Poppalina. Thanks for stopping by.

(edit: just fixed up the many spelling mistakes. Neither the computer's nor my brain's spell checking seems to be working)

Wordless Wednesday

2009-02-18T08:03:00.001+11:00

Cranberry Shortbread Hearts Recipe

2009-02-16T13:12:00.005+11:00

Duh - why I failed to include this in the last post I'll never know...

Cranberry Shortbread Hearts

125 grams unsalted butter
1/2 cup castor sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 egg (beaten)
1/2 teaspoon vanilla essence
1 3/4 cups plain flour (sifted)
150 grams dried cranberries (sweetened is OK)

Pre-heat oven to 180 C.

Cream sugar and butter. Add egg, then vanilla and salt, mixing thoroughly.

Blend in flour slowly. Try not to over mix. When smooth consistency, stir in cranberries.

Form dough into a ball and wrap in plastic wrap (or divide in to 2 or 3 lots for ease of handling) and chill for at least an hour.

Roll out on to a floured surface (or between two baking sheets) till about 4mm thick. Cut out shapes with a cookie cutter (press really firmly and use a METAL cutter to ensure you slice through the fruit - or otherwise deal with the misshapen mess that ensues).

Place biscuits on lined baking trays, and cook for 10 - 15 minutes or until they just colour at edges).

Notes:

I have no idea where I got this recipe - it seems like a pretty standard shortbread ratio. My creativity solely extended to adding the cranberries. Woot.

Given that we are now post - V.D. you could lose the heart shape action.

The half dough I had remaining in the fridge, I could not deal with rolling/cutting etc (bad arm day). So I just sliced the homogenised mass thinly crossways (a la biscotti or almond bread) and cooked till there was the merest colour at the corners. Alternatively you could just form the dough into a log shape before chilling, and then cut into nice rounds when cold. This will however mess with the whole Phillipa's aesthetic as the cranberries will be sliced not rolled. Yes, perfectionism is a curse.

These might also be nice dusted with caster sugar before baking, or pure icing sugar when cold. These aren't as light as I'd hoped. So I reserve the right to tweak or abandon the recipe as is my whim.

As noted before - the cranberries I used became a little hard after baking, so really could have been soaked beforehand. In water? apple juice? Verjuice? (yes Maggie Beer got to me too). But DO make sure you do strain well - any extra water could mess with the dough, cause shrinkage or any number of other possible worldly disasters.

Eat your heart out

2009-02-15T08:20:00.008+11:00

Cranberry shortbread.

Almost as good as Phillipa's (which will do wonders for my bank account).

Just a little more tweaking required.

I think I need to soak the cranberries first in a little bit of something.

Make them all plump and chewy. And easier to cut.

My best laid plans foiled by a plastic cookie cutter.

Still, I have 1/2 of the dough still chilling in the fridge. And nothing else to do today.

...

2009-02-09T14:41:00.004+11:00

I feel like I've been slapped in the face.

The fires that have, and continue to devastate Victoria have seemingly ripped through the very fabric of the state. 107 dead and counting.

I don't know what to say. I don't know what to think.

Everything I've ever written before seems shamelessly superficial.

When I posted briefly about our high temperatures, in the back of my mind was an uneasy feeling that if things were going to go pear shaped, it would do so quickly. Everything is was just so tinder dry. Even here in the city.

We hunkered down at home on Saturday's record breaking temperature day. Keeping the doors and windows shut tight against the horrid northerly wind, watching West Wing and bemoaning the fact that the cool change was taking its own sweet time. Completely unaware that at 3pm, serious fires had already started across the state.

As is our habit in hot weather, we were regularly updating the Earth Sciences temperature page, cheering when the temperature finally dropped. 15 degrees in an hour - Woot! The cool southerly winds are here! Forgetting completely, that this is devastating news for those battling a fire front.

A pile of clean laundry has sat untouched since late Saturday afternoon in the bedroom. As I upended it earlier today, to fold and put away, the unmistakable, sweet smell of wood smoke and eucalyptus filled my head. I felt sick.

The smell of wood smoke frightens me to the core.

When we first moved back to the country, it filled me with thoughts of romance and the cosiness of home. The endless enthral of an open fire - memorising and captivating.

But after several summers on high bushfire alert (and with no water to defend ourselves) the stress of living in the bush got to me. The merest whiff of smoke had me searching the sky for a tell tale plume. My mind racing to thoughts of fire plans, water, the whereabouts of partners, family and animals.

But it's been a few years now, and my mind has decommissioned itself from being so attuned to those kinds of threats.

It feels like folly, but what could I have done?

I am now trying desperately to not think about what the victims went through, nor the horror that the survivors must face.

All I can do is humbly offer up my prayers of condolence, and grieve for the lost.

(With thanks to Shula and Sooz for sharing)

Thrifted Thursday

2009-02-05T17:30:00.010+11:00

A bit sun faded, but definitely one of my best finds this week. Those trims shall be reborn as many a new project.

With this, and a few other key pieces in the last week, it seems like my op-shopping mojo has finally returned.

I had decided to give up op-shopping after some REALLY bad decisions and the general malaise that followed many fruitless hours spent sifting through broken crap and tired Made in China clothes.

I was beginning to think the golden age of op-shopping was over for me.

I know it can be a hard graft at times, but pickings had definitely been getting slimmer and slimmer, or non existent (unless you want to pay $10 bucks for a Kmart t-shirt that only cost $20 to begin with).

Worse still, if there was something nice -it was way out of my budget. Perhaps I am just more discerning now (though if you saw my excuse for an outfit today you'd probably disagree).

I know charities aim to pass on all the cash they can - and I don't begrudge 2nd hand dealers trying to make a crust, but for some of us - we actually need op-shops to get by.

This might seem like hypocrisy from the chick who just got given a kitchen aid - but that was an "outlier" purchase.

The truth is, buying certain things 2nd hand and upcycling others makes the cash stretch just a little bit further. But you have to be disciplined.

The rules I try to practise are: Look early and look often - and don't buy it, if it don't fit. I'm still working on that last one (but it'll be perfect if I just .... lose 15 kgs ... didn't have cats ... competely redesign/cut/sew/paint/upholster the entire thing). It NEVER happens (and I have a cupboard of crap to prove it).

I also have to remind myself - don't buy it unless you love it. Just because it's a screaming bargain and you've seen them selling on ebay for heaps more - PUT IT BACK. Leave some bargains behind and enjoy the op-shopping karma.

My final law of op-shopping is that you must give in order to receive.

I try to make sure the stuff I give back is useful and good quality. Not just the crap I don't want anymore. Again, I could ebay it - but why not just let it go? Feed the system that feeds me.

Granted I might not do this if I had a stash of Eames chairs I didn't want kicking around. But that set of Wedgewood cups I no longer use - and that leather jacket that never fit quite right ... they can join the cycle.

I also believe it helps if you tell the universe what you desire. I try not to be too specific ("black pencil skirt" will do the trick rather than "black knee length pencil skirt with button detailing with ..." and then leave myself open to what the universe deigns appropriate (but keep your eyes peeled - it may not show up in an op-shop but be hiding instead on a sale rack or unused in a friends cupboard).

The real key to op-shop success is to practice the art of patience.

A bit of rummaging doesn't hurt either.

Wordless Wednesday

2009-02-04T10:32:00.004+11:00

Homemade baba ghanoush (Recipe from Arabesque)

A patch of blue

2009-01-30T16:07:00.012+11:00

And yes - the kitchen has reopened!

I have a VERY good husband.

Who will doubtlessly be showered in baked goods.

As soon as it cools down enough to turn on the oven.

Dang that's hot!

2009-01-29T19:21:00.006+11:00

Courtesy of Dept. of Earth Sciences, Melbourne Uni.

PS. Third hottest Melbourne temperature on record. Beaten only by 44.7 degrees C on the 10th January 1939, and 45.6 degrees C on 13th January 1939. Otherwise known as Black Friday.

Don't worry... it says HELF

2009-01-28T18:54:00.002+11:00

Shamelessly lifted from Amazon.uk

Hey - to all you good folks out there in the interwebs - I need some help!

Does anyone know where I can pick up a Nigella Lawson Black Milk jug like the one pictured for my friend Whirly-girl?

Amazon .com and .uk do stock them - but won't ship them to us antipodean Downunder dwellers.

They probably assume us uncultured scurvy convicts don't take our tea with milk - just straight out of the billy*.

Any assistance would be greatly appreciated - drop me a comment if you have any ideas!

P.S. I could arrange a trade for some vegimite! Though I'll admit that this might be a deterrent for some rather than an inducement :P

*My sifty memories of Grade 6 camp recall that boiled eucalyptus leaves (Billy tea for the uninitiated) served with a side of charred damper was surprisingly good - but I think I was delirious from a 16km hike (not to mention partially malnourished from the "quality" school camp food)

Wordless Wednesday

2009-01-28T17:48:00.003+11:00

Pecan Sandies

2009-01-22T17:33:00.005+11:00

I discovered a jar of pecans whilst I was cleaning out the pantry last week, so I decided to try out a recent recipe from my favourite gastro porn site.

(I'll spare you the details of my other pantry clean out cooking foray - though I remain unconvinced that quinoa, beetroot and pomegranate can't be friends)

Knowing that shortbread is finikity and having learnt my lesson from cooking blunders past, I followed the instructions TO THE LETTER. Or to the millimeter as it was in this case.

I'm not sure if my metal ruler is technically food safe, but I can attest that my biscuits were 1 inch square (+ or - 1/16th of an inch).

Obviously my keen quality assurance team (jms) found this tolerance suitable for taste testing purposes, and declared them a success.

I even managed to refrain from rerolling the scraps (god forbid the structural integrity of one's shortbread be compromised). I'm glad I did, because the texture of these biscuits was so light I swear a host of angels could be heard singing with each mouthful.

This did leave some less than photographic odds and ends that after yours truly was rendered too ill to cram any more dough into her mouth, were cooked and the QA department promptly devoured them in the name of Total Quality Management.

I'm not a huge fan of pecans - but I am a sucker for recipes that require toasted nuts. Like freshly ground coffee or baked bread, the smell of roasted nuts is one of those smells that I think makes a house feel like a home. And in this case, it really does turn a wee biscuit in to something not just nice, but delicious.

The simple act of enriching the oils with a slight caramelisation seems to take recipes to another level. That little extra step makes me feel like I am becoming an accomplished cook, and not just someone who throws stuff together when hunger dictates. Try toasting your pine nuts lightly next time you make pesto. Or add some gently toasted slivered almonds to a simple salad. Brownies (not that heaven needs improvement) do taste a little more special if you roast your hazelnuts or whatever first I am told. And I promise, the next time I make banana bread, to wave those walnut suckers near an open flame, just to see what happens.

For the sake of quality control purposes of course.

However, as I have informed my best beloved, this cook is on biscuit and cake hiatus until the delivery of a new mixer. So there.

I'm sorry folks, but an ultimatum has become necessary.

I am completely sick of wrangling my delapidated and partially melted mixer into submission. Sick of the splattering of crap all over the kitchen and the delectable smell of burning motor grease wafting throughout the house. And no, I don't want a replacement. I want one of those over priced and over blown ones that that sit along side Nigella's boobs and Jamie's "cor blimeys".

Shiny. Expensive. Cobalt Blue.

Kitchen closed 'till further notice.

Wordless Wednesday

2009-01-14T10:18:00.000+11:00

To B or not to B

2009-01-13T10:11:00.011+11:00

Whilst hanging out recently with my 3 yr old BF, she brought to my attention that I didn't have a Barbie doll of my own. She further suggested that if I got a my own Barbie doll, I could come over to her house and play. I was immediately smitten with the idea. Why can't a 30 something have her own Barbie?

While I know there is a raging discussion (that well intended feminists started before I was even born) about the appropriateness of Ms. B as a toy for impressionable minds. To the extent that she had a fairly extensive makeover (if going from a Dolly Parton to a Dita Von Teese bust size counts).

Unfortunately, I think the doll's demerits have been completely eclipsed by real life Barbie doll role models such as Ms. Hilton, Lohan et. al. and their questionable behaviour that is splattered all over the show.

My little friend's mother was denied a Barbie when she was growing up by her staunchly feminist mother (that should possibly have a capital F). And she in turn, intended to maintain a Barbie free zone – but eventually cracked after a protracted and difficult toilet training 'negotiation'.

However, after much discussion, we the adults have concluded (post purchase justification aside) that Barbie is OK. Not great, but also not psychologically damaging to a worrying extent.

Indeed, I survived a childhood beset with Barbie. Apart from my Lego (which I still have) Barbie proved to be the toy that got the most play longevity of all my toys. Furthermore, as a 16 year old I was markedly upset when the olds gave away my collection (without consultation) to a smaller relative. Jms and his brothers all turned out pretty good and they had (by all reports) a better collection than I (they had the spa AND the convertible).

In retrospect, I personally only developed body image issues after being given a (well intended) Dolly magazine subscription in my tweens. Jms, as far as I know, doesn't have any Barbie body issue problems (apart from a strange fixation with blue eye shadow). I admit that it is a bit of a merchandising flood gate – with matching outfits and vacuous DVDs by the truckload, but at least it gives you a moments break from the Wiggles.

But as the story predictably goes, I found myself wandering a large toy shop (looking for cheap Lego as it happens) when I found myself caught in the vortex of the pink isle. So pink it is visceral - your teeth ache with its artificial sweetness and you feel kinda claustrophobic. It is like crack for little girls and it makes parents wish they were colour blind.

The nearly bare, post-Christmas shelves showed a smattering of what I guess was second or even third tier dolls – with the exception of a handful of an "exclusive" design. A long haired temptress replete with butterfly wings and a layered blue and lilac ball gown. If I could have specified the kind of doll I'd be in to, they couldn't have done a better job (unless the dress was actually designed by Vivienne Westwood). But ultimately I walked away (read: dragged by husband).

I know I should really just wait until the op-shop down the road reopens and get a pre loved doll. It would certainly help my savings - and fly under the radar of Jms' House Deposit Plan of Ultimate Fiscal Restraint. But there was a certain something about that doll that I can't get off my mind.

I was trawling though my inspiration folder yesterday and found the following picture:

(Many apologies, but I can't find a source for this)

So far I have fought the Blythe phenomenon tooth and nail, but as a crazy cat lady in the making, a Nikki doll is DEFINITELY on my wish list.

Obviously at its going rate on ebay (and the current list of useful items around the house that badly need replacing) it is an understatement to call it an extravagance. Simply out of the question. Not to mention that whole economic downturn thingy.

God knows why I feel I need it, but it does make a new Barbie seem a lot less over the top. Unfortunately I'd be getting a lot less aesthetic bang for my buck. A quick google image search reveals that the Barbie Mariposa Queen is just a little more 'gauche' than the 'haute' couture of my rose coloured recollection.

Dare I say garish?

Photo courtesy of Amazon.

Perhaps it was an overload of "fairy princess" games over the holidays. But then again, didn't Dolce & Gabbana do a range of over the top butterfly dresses a few years back? And Galliano and Lacroix can't seem to help vomiting lurid silk organza at every turn...

I actually have no idea what my point is here.

But I do think it might involve wanting to brush synthetic hair with a teeny comb and co-ordinate a small wardrobe. The pure escapism of matching shoes and handbags, ball gowns and up-dos without an unflattering mirror or fake tan booth in sight.

Dressing up is fun, but as an adult it seems to require so much more of a production (and hollywood tape). Barbie doesn't have to stress about underarm hair or a VPL.

And she doesn't get offended when ditched for a different game or lunch.

Wordless Wednesday

2009-01-07T09:06:00.001+11:00

Wordless Wednesday... last for 2008!

2008-12-31T08:52:00.001+11:00

Taken in Norway by Jms

Dinner? ... "I want House!" said the 3 yr old

2008-12-27T15:12:00.009+11:00

The lead up to Christmas is always a maelstrom of activity in everyone's lives - so I won't make excuses for not updating, but I will apologise for the unreturned phonecalls and the lack of Christmas cards to my nearest and dearest.

Nevertheless, two days before Christmas I decided I REALLY did want to make a gingerbread house.

My first, though only technically. Mum and I used to make them each year as homage to my European ancestry. However, I tended to play the role of asthetic adviser and thematic consultant. I had never actually baked, assembled and iced one on my own before.

I know IKEA sell kits, but that's just cheating as far as I am concerned. It certainly doesn't allow for the addition of mezzanine levels, juliet balconies and lighting systems.

Jms did request a Barcelona Pavilion, as we were spending Christmas in the company of designophiles.

But as it was my first attempt, I figured in the name of disaster mitigation I ought to stick to the script, and so went for the classic but basic gabled cottage design.

As you may see from the picture above, basic did however go so far as to include a table repleat with a bowl of fruit and teacups fashioned from icing. It also incuded the obligatory cat on a mat in front of the open fireplace, chintz carpet, lace curtains and paintings on the walls. Unfortunately the other photos my dearest beloved took while I was splitting the atom for the third time that day, were (ahem) out of focus. So you will just have to take my word for it's magnificence.

Better still it survived the 1 and 1/2 hour car trip down the coast on Christmas eve better than I did. After 5 hours icing it, I was a little dismayed that the host did not just want to admire it but had pulled out plates and cake forks before I'd even got it out of the box. Fortunately I managed to beat the hungry hordes off till the following day, so they could at least admire Jms' electronic work that night after the sun had gone down.

I'll try and hit up the other guests for some photos that were taken before its (energetic) demolition. Or even some of the post apocalyptic site - as there was something very poignant about the half destroyed house with it's European stamp "paintings". A bit Dresden post World War II. All it was missing was some tanks fashioned from icing and an advancing army of gingerbread men.

Unfortunately it was very well received by the other guests both asthetically and gastronimically, and as per usual, I am the victim of my own success. I have already had requests for next year including multiple storeys and MORE lights. Even the suggestion of roman ruins. But at least I have another 12 months to decided whether or not it is to be corinthian, doric or ionic columns.

Berlin to Bergen

2008-12-03T11:39:00.030+11:00

Been back for almost a week now - long enough to know that the honeymoon is over, but not long enough to be over the jet lag nor to have finished tackling the giant pile of laundry!

In a month filled with daily paradigm shifts, its hard to distill the experience into bite sized chunks. But I guess my not-so-short list of highlights include:

Firstly, whilst in Berlin...

Potato dumplings the size of tennis balls at the Alte Fritz Kartoffelhaus.

The subtle but exquisite Martin Gropius Bau and the Richard Avedon exhibition contained within.

Ampelmann, amplemann, ampelmann (the East German pedestrian stop and go symbols). I (heart) amplemann.

The Jeff Koons exhibit at the Neue National Gallerie (and the freebie Blue Flower Balloon around the corner at Potsdamer Platz)

Marvelling that a 6 pack of beer was cheaper than a 6 pack of water at the supermarket.

Seeing Eis bears (Knut!), Pandas and Flamingos all for the first time in one day (my head nearly exploded)

Snaffling the last Comme des Garcon wool jacket in the bedlam at H&M (much to the dismay of several other shoppers).

Walking, walking and more walking around Berlin's broad and stately streets.

The consumption of many berliners

(Ein Pfannkuchen wenden Sie sich bitte!)

German MTV (and subsequently addiction to Deichkind's "Arbeit Nervt")

Tracing the scar of that infamous wall with our feet, only barely being able to comprehend its impact. Astounded that the "wall" is just one of many epoch defining moments in the city's incredible history.

Playing with particles at the "Welt Machine" - an interactive exhibit about the building of the Large Hadron Collider at CERN.

(Nothing like observing an animated discussion about sub-atomic physics between a cute German physicist and my husband to get me all steamed up). Now that's my idea of a threesome.

Overhearing a tour guide saying Berlin is the greatest city on earth, and quietly agreeing with him.

Then on to Copenhagen...

Smushi at the Royal Cafe (a cross between traditional Danish smørrebrød and sushi).

The fish that got away (AKA the most wonderful pair of bright blue, knee high leather boots). Alas, not to be.

Shop after shop of to die for fashion, furniture and homewares, some more interestingly named than others.

Being given shit for asking for orange juice with my steak by the Muscle Mary barman at a local pub in Denmark. Fair enough.

The BEST florist shops I have ever seen - Their sheer ingenuity (when winter makes fresh flowers prohibitively expensive or just plain unavailable)

Finding the Aladdin's cave of haberdashery among the tiny cobbled streets.

And finally, when in Norway, and the picturesque town of Bergen...

Snow, snow and more snow on our arrival.

Eating ice crystals. I love snow.

Sun, snow and sea.

Sparklers in the snow on Sotra Island.

Tandem sledding down the hill beside the house. Very romantic (in a scary, squeally kind of way). Did I mention that I love snow?

Bergen op-shops (oh to have a suitcase big enough for all the great stuff we found).

So many shops filled with exquisite Norwegian handicrafts. No 'Made in China' here thanks.

Glow-in-the-dark frisbee with Darcy in the snow and the inevitable snowball fight.

Snowman hate crimes.

Following deer tracks in the snow, taken aback by the stillness and ghostliness of the forest that quickly encompassed me.

Refraining (only just) from asking the MIL to sell all our stuff and put the animals on a plane. The Weebl's got it wrong (no offense Kenya), but Norway is the best place on earth.

(And apparently it's even better in summer)

Leaving on a jet plane...

2008-11-02T11:31:00.004+11:00

Image shamelessly stolen from here.

The animals have been clinging to me like their fur is made of velcro. They know something is up.

I have repacked my case 4 times now and I think I'm ready to go. Hopefully I haven't forgotten anything major.

I told jms (who left a week ago) that I was scared about flying by myself. He said "Don't worry they give you a plane"

Ha Ha.

Back soon!

Wordless Wednesday

2008-10-29T15:49:00.003+11:00

Admiral Ackbar single again

2008-10-21T15:52:00.005+11:00

Yes, Bernard Black passed away this week.

Bernard the Black Moor, not the bookstore owner - though he did drink like a fish!

Apologies to any Dylan Moran fans out there for the potentially upsetting news. Apologies to everyone else out there for the terrible joke.

Ahem. Shall I start again?

Bernard: the fish. Although a consummate professional at 'playing' dead he actually proved quite the fighter - surviving some nasty fishy disease outbreaks and outliving several tank mates over the years.

Alas, the latest bug got the better of him, despite my tank-side ministrations. It is a bit of a relief with the impending trip OS and the MIL house-sitting (she was considerably perturbed by Bernard's fake death shenanigans last time she stayed).

Some months back I swore that I wouldn't get fish again once Bernard was gone. But now I am not so sure. Admittedly the house is a little crowded with 2 people, 4 cats and a dog (tho' he is only small). Tank upkeep is unsurprisingly not my favourite task (especially with a dodgy arm - which is partly to blame for the latest disease outbreak).

But the tank light bathed the room in such a nice glow and the bubble of the filter was like a meditative white noise in one's peripheral hearing. Not quite whale song or crashing waves, but comforting nevertheless. And ever so more so noticeable now, for its absence. Watching the tank was definitely better than daytime television. Now its sits dormant, bereft of light and life.

Unfortunately I am becoming increasingly aware of the unethical practices in the pet industry. Just Google "puppy factories" or "puppy mills" for some seriously disturbing information about practices at the core of the industry. Aquarium practices are perhaps less outrageous, but just because a Goldfish costs $5 and there is 50 in the tank, shouldn't mean that their life is any more disposable.

Fish are promoted as low maintenance, instant pets. I can't tell you how many times I've seen families bundled out of the pet shop door with a tank, chemicals and a bag of fish. This is particularly offensive when the proper set up of a tank, even the most basic, takes days if not a lot longer, before live fish ought to be introduced. A bunch of (expensive) chemical additives might help fish survive, but is no guarantee. Which leads me to believe that pet stores don't give a flying fuck whether the fish live after you've handed over your cash, because you'll either be back for more to replace the ones that died, or will abandon the tank after the novelty has worn of and come back and buy a puppy.

Not to mention that the presence of rows and rows of Siamese fighting fish in water glass sized tanks makes me so angry. That is cruelty personified. The "fact" promoted by the industry that they can survive in small puddles of water is appalling. Yes, they CAN survive. Just like we CAN survive on a diet of rice cakes and water if necessity dictated it.

But surely we want more than mere survival for our pets. The reason they sit motionless at the top of the tank is because they are starved of oxygen. Put a Siamese fighting fish in a large tank, properly oxygenated, with no inappropriate tank mates - and you will see an energetic and happy fish of the most luxurious and dazzling colouring.

And who knows whether tropical fish are harvested with any respect to maintaining wild fish stocks in their native environments. Or whether breeding fancy goldfish with "aesthetic" deformities impinges on the fish's quality of life.

I guess every decision we make has ethical consequences if we dig deep enough. Responsible pet ownership is one of them, and I often wonder whether it is wise to consider our own needs of companionship, or if it is just selfishness. I am not advocating never getting another pet once our household ultimately becomes pet free. Nor can I stand on any perceived moral high ground. Our collection of animals have variously been acquired from both pet stores, breeders and rescues. I adore each and every one and don't regret taking any of them in to our home. Had pure desire won over practicality, I'd be the happy owner of chooks and (to Jms' dismay) a donkey. I'd keep bees in a heartbeat if I weren't allergic.

(Of course the local council might also have some sway in the matter too...)

So Bernard is gone, and the tank remains empty. But I am yet to dismantle it and really put some action behind my ethical convictions. A friend once commented that we ought to have kids - if only to stop us from getting way too many pets!

Hmmm. They ARE cute. Jms?? Don't kill me.

Ich bin ein Berliner

2008-10-10T12:50:00.007+11:00

Image from here.

Breaking news is that Jms and I are going to Berlin!

It is a belated Honeymoon that has been in the pipeline for a while, but with this and that, it looked like wasn't going to happen until the very last minute.

We will also be making a much overdue visit to Norway, where my brother lives with his lovely fiance. Flights don't go Berlin - Bergen direct so we will have to make a stop over in Copenhagen (how will we survive?).

It will be the first time we will have traveled overseas together (aaaiiiieee). If the planning process is any indication, this may be the quickest way to divorce. Can the honeymoon be over before it has even begun?

And like J.F.K. I too, will be a jelly doughnut, or at least plan to sample some while I am there (though I will pass on the Minke, thank you Dr Jimothy). In the interim here are some doughnuts of another kind...

(AKA Olympic Rings Biscuits, because I couldn't wait another 4 years to make them again). Too delicious (especially without the toxic levels of food colouring)

Wordless Wednesday

2008-10-01T13:14:00.003+10:00

Better than half a worm, in half an apple

2008-09-28T09:37:00.002+10:00

My bestest beloved linked me to this , with the tag "... and I thought of you".

After the red veil subsided and I put down the kitchen knife, I did have to admit it was familiar turf and pretty close to home. Too close.

What is it with our brains - and why do they seem to take such joy in self sabotage?

Ordinarily, under strict laboratory conditions, I am a fairly intelligent and erudite person. But its like there is a "Random" switch that gets turned on in my head which causes gibberish to fall out of my mouth. It used to happen occasionally - you know, the odd spoonerism or Freudian slip. Normal. Human.

But now it happens A LOT.

For instance - that thing that you cut grass with? I know its called a LAWNMOWER. But in idle conversation what does my brain pop out? VACUUM CLEANER.

Pretty much 99.9% guaranteed (the .01% being the times I practice before hand to get it right). I've even tried rewiring my synapses by creating and repeating appropriate word associations. No dice.

Words with similar sound and spelling and are more excusable and unfortunately therefore more common. MELON when I mean LEMON. MUSHROOM instead of MATTRESS.

Or words of a like category. HAND instead of GLOVE. CINEMA for THEATER.

"The traffic lights up ahead are BLACK, we can cross..."

Obviously I meant RED. Certainly conceptually alike in their 'don't do it' kind of way. Perhaps that explains my brain's use of FRAGMENT instead of SNOWFLAKE. Crystallization creates both?? Work with me here!

Or there is just the plain weird: SAUSAGE instead of CIRCLE (Though technically phonetically similar to begin with - and if you cut them in half...)

At least if these 'exchanges' were of a saucier nature it would be a source of mirth and amusement, not just frustration and embarrassment.

On occasion I catch myself saying the wrong word - and quickly send a message to my mouth to say the right word - and like the three stooges trying to get through a door all at once - they jam and I end up stuttering like a skipping record.

For some reason it seems to be mainly nouns.

A further regression occurs when I can't recall the desired word and so out aloud, I scroll through the ones that do make it out of my brain until I hit on the right one or Jms figures out what I'm trying to say by deduction. Its like a shopping list version of charades.

Perhaps I'm just getting old - although I'm (technically) not mid-thirties yet, so surely that's too young for dementia? Please?

It could be an overworked mind. But idle times seem to make no difference.

I muse sometimes that I have some kind of rare, degenerative brain disorder that is eating away at my grey matter - like a worm in an apple.

Or an undiagnosed tumour. Like an episode of House, there would be that A HA! moment (after the requisite dicking about) where I can explain all my tics in one foul swoop and say "I told you so" and smile smugly.

Oh wait. Fantasizing about having a brain tumour? Um. Perhaps not.

(Though if it is fantasy "House" land, it will be fixed with a simple operation and I can go on to be Secretary General of the UN. There will be no long and difficult rehabilitation)

I could be generous and blame the pain meds. But let's be honest - this might just be personality, not acquired.

If you are a regular reader here at chez Trickle, you might appreciate that words are kinda my thing. I like using them and especially like to stretch my lexicon a little (hopefully without sounding like the nob who ate a thesaurus for breakfast).

I guess I just fear being 'that guy': dazed and confused in the supermarket, getting increasingly agitated as I yell out random words till my carer collects me and apologetically escorts me home.

Maybe I should start wearing a "Please look after this Bear" sign.

Or carry around flash cards. Lawnmower, Vacuum Cleaner, Hand, Glove ...

The littlest bird

2008-09-27T13:11:00.003+10:00

The family tree has been updated.

No schmancy Louis Ghost chair this time. Just my hard rubbish kitchen chair.

The only chair in the house not flocked with cat hair.

Now excuse me while I go to the supermarket. Like Mikes, I don't think there is anything "Grand" about a football match.

I try to avoid supermarkets on the weekends - I am hoping it is a ghost town.

Just me and the hum of fridges and the flicker of dodgy neon. I might even sing along with the muzak.

The kindness of strangers...

2008-09-24T14:04:00.008+10:00

Back from Sydney. Had a great time - lots of newborn nuzzles, cuddles and effervescent smiles that could melt polar ice caps. Not to mention an early dose of t-shirt weather (and a touch of sunburn!).

And the Matryoshka was a BIG HIT.

They even got taken to bed (only top tier toys get this rare privilege I'm told). Phoebe's Giraffe didn't get a look in - but then she is only 3 weeks old and hasn't discovered her hands yet!

Unfortunately, it seems that the black dog I thought I'd cleverly left at Melbourne airport, managed to track me down and then proceeded to catch a lift home in my luggage (seemingly evading any excess baggage charges).

Hopefully its only got a short stay visa (or as Yogi Shiva would put it - just a passing sensation).

Certainly abated by the sight of our dining table upon my arrival:

Technically the Gocco was MY birthday present (I'm yet to actually touch it) but who could poo poo such industriousness? Paper, card, fabric - you name it, if it's flat, its got a test print on it.

It seems his new favourite colour is Barbie Pink. Should I be worried?

Then an unexpected present in my Bloglines reader - sweet words and a link from the extra special Kirsty (I can't tell you how much this made my day).

And finally, the icing on the cake was a wonderful parcel in the mail today from Gemma with goodies from the Kaotic Kraftster Day that I missed out on 'cause I was AWOL. Woot!

Thank you.

P.S. Happy Birthday Granpa - Rest in peace.

Gon Out, BiSy BacKson

2008-09-15T09:23:00.001+10:00

Gone to Sydney to visit Bebe and Imi. Yippee!

Through the round window

2008-09-13T10:00:00.001+10:00

From PBase.

I don't know what it is about circles - but I find them profoundly restful.

I am always drawn to circular patterns - initially this was an unconscious phenomenon until Jms pointed out that ALL our bedding (ever) had had circular patterns*. Nesting much?

Perhaps it harks back to something innate in (my) primitive brain that seeks security and completeness. Like the Zen art of "enso" or circle painting. Akin to the chanting of an "om" but with the body, the hand and brush circling and circling endlessly until thought is reduced to pure existence.

From Otter Cards.

Or I just like circles.

Especially round windows. I positively ACHE to live in a house with a round window (yes, yet another feature of the lofty warehouse of my dreams).

I know all windows frame a view, but there is something especially nice about the view framed by a perfect circle. A portal to another world.

Don't even get me started on Moon Gates. (I kept Kodak in business when I traveled through China several years ago).

Ideally the lofty warehouse has a sizable garden with Moon Gates too. Though possibly a bit much. Realistically, on my budget, this is going to be a lofty cardboard box under a freeway extension.

From Totara Valley Barns.

There was a photo I recall from an old Black + White magazine (long since ebayed in a misguided attempt at decluttering) of a beautiful round window in a stunning designer home. I think it was from an Andy Warhol photo shoot. I have since seen glimpses of it on a random ABC afternoon Arts shows - but unfortunately never caught the name of it ...

From Grey Lines.

Until I find this amazing Tardis of a warehouse - with cantilevered stairs, double floor rooms (sustainable heating!?) and said round window and the 'magic pudding' wallet to match, I'll continue to wander aimlessly the image search function on Google looking for the window of my dreams.

From Villa Sumaya.

*Footnote - In defiance I last bought stripey bedding - and to be completely honest - it just does not feel right and I can't wait till wash day. Never again.

Livin' on the (selv) edge

2008-09-11T09:46:00.001+10:00

I have been dutifully collecting the registration prints from the selvedges of fabric over the last year or so. I don't have much.

I don't buy lots of fabric - I tend to leech it of others and purchase miniscule bits that are already on sale (I am the poxy customer hunched over the scrap basket trawling for gold). And they are ever so small - so this was only ever going to be a small scale project.

But I just adore them. Sometimes I pull out my wee stash out and just look at it lovingly. Quite possibly it's the rainbow thing.

I had revolutionary plans for these little bits, and thought I was being oh so VERY original. But then I discovered, as you usually do (there is no such thing as original thought - thank you Aristotle) that someone else has been there and truly done that. Far more up scale and amazing than anything I was planning. Phooey.

Never mind. I'm happy to stand on the shoulders of giants. It's a great view.

I'm sure impulsiveness has its merits

2008-09-10T15:16:00.000+10:00

Who goes to IKEA and impulse purchases a FOUR POSTER BED??

YELLOW at that.

(But Jms - It was 70% off, and I've always wanted one since, well forever... and what do you mean I've never mentioned this before, I could have sworn it was in the wedding ~~contract~~ vows...)

You gotta feel sorry for the poor bugger, who then had to construct it single handedly. With onlookers. Exacting onlookers.

Nevermind also that we live in a small, dark Art Deco house. Admittedly the bed formed part of my "live in an lofty warehouse style apartment with double floor rooms" long term goal.

But why wait - life is NOT a dress rehearsal.

On my desk...

2008-09-10T12:46:00.010+10:00

Courtesy of my father. To help with the RSI of course.

Thanks Dad.

I won't ask how he found it (DO NOT GO THERE)

Not quite the look I generally go for.

(But surprisingly VERY ergonomic - something to do with minimised nerve compression aided by her ample cleavage)

I actually blushed the first time I grabbed her by her extremities. I am ever so glad they refrained from including nipples. I feel like a perv, but it's really comfortable to cup my hand over "lefty" while I work.

In fact I've now become quite fond her - I feel I should give her a name (or at least buy her a drink).

Though I can completely see myself having a bit of a "Lars" relationship with her (this is why I haven't succumbed to Blythe. I know it would get weird). So perhaps we should keep it professional.

P.S. If you haven't seen Lars and the Real Girl - do so as soon as humanly practical. A great movie that sublimely surpasses its cringe worthy premise. Definitely in my top 10.

This is...

2008-08-31T21:24:00.007+10:00

Just had a quick squiz at Three Buttons - and noticed that this weeks "this is" theme from Handmaiden is your favourite fabric/craft shop.

I have to join in this week and sing the praises of my favourite.

Although I adore Patchwork on Central (especially as it is a coffee and walking distance of my house) and think Winterwood felt is the BEST, I must implore you to visit the not so pretty "Darn Cheap Fabrics" in Glenhuntly (and Heidleberg and Newport).

The stock is always changing, and every week they seem to have more. They have a brilliant and ever expanding selection of trims and notions and of course the cheapest silks by the metre you will ever find.

It is a bit of a mixed bag - with bits of everything - but always worth a visit. Even though it is all new fabric, they are largely a remnant business, so everything is technically salvaged and recycled. Which is great for the eco conscious - and a little easier than trawling the op-shops when you specifically need hot pink rick rack!

P.S.
As far as the "Aladdin's Cave" of fabrics go - I hear that the Job Warehouse actually lets people in the front door these days. I was fortunate enough not to be forcibly removed (as have some of my designer friends who mistakenly tried to "browse") but found the quality not worth the asking price. Still, I'm sure there is some amazing stuff there. And apparently browsing is not forbidden anymore!

Literally cut up

2008-08-31T19:32:00.006+10:00

Got a call from Southern Health two weeks ago saying its been well over a year since I was put on the wait list for surgery and was I still interested..?

Interested? Not quite the word for it really. I wasn't really interested in getting the condition in the first place but there you go. But now that I've got the chance to do something about it it well - yes I am quite interested thanks for asking.

It made me wonder how many folks do say "Nah, don't think I really can fit in a heart by-pass with my schedule - what say we give it a miss!"

Admittedly mine is a condition that is neither terminal nor life threatening, and even though I do try to be very careful with the term "need", I think it does count as "needed" (But not quite like how I need a cobalt blue Kitchenaid). I know that without intervention the condition will ultimately result in increasingly debilitating pain, possible infertility and potentially ruin a perfectly good marriage.

So worth doing I'd wager.

Unfortunately as I discovered at the pre-admin clinic shortly thereafter, surgery did not necessarily prevent any of these things. But things should improve. Three cheers for qualified optimism!

The inspecting Doctor (and the cast of thousands that "needed" to inspect my most private of parts) said there had been a cancellation and would I like to be scheduled for the 27th?

Well "like" is again a term most folks don't readily associate with being cut open, but having spent so long dreading the phone call right before I started a new job or right before my wedding, I was relieved that it was finally going to happen.

I will spare you the details of "bowel" preparation for surgery, suffice to say it was both worse, and not as bad as I expected.

My poor Dad probably knows more than he would have liked about my reproductive organs and sexual history, but he was outstanding company during the long wait for theatre.

By the time I made it to the recovery ward my bits felt like the Ikea car park - with everyone having had a visit. This was not a teaching hospital but I think they shipped in a herd of 4th years just for me.

The coincidence of all coincidences is that one of my best friends was also (unexpectedly) under the knife at exactly the same time. Fortunately for her, she at least got to take home a baby. Though two lucky viewers/research organisations did get to take home a show bag of my dodgy DNA. May I serve as a warning to others.

Jms and Dad are well deserved co-recipients for the "Man of the Year" award for my post-operative care. Having become an invertebrate (delightful effect of the morphine) they had to pour me in and out of the car/bed/chair and put up with me falling asleep mid-sentence.

Jms commented the following day that my pupils were still completely dilated. That might explain how I got the glow stick (just a hallucination) and the fluro wristband. No wait - that's the "don't stick anything nasty into this already dodgy arm" band. With the matching "allergy" red hat and arm band combo (and rather humorously "Bee Stings" written on it - just in case they had an apiary problem in theatre).

And so much for not driving a car for 24 hours - its Sunday night (4 days post -op) and I am only just able to sit in a chair without falling over. Lord knows how you'd do this with a new born.

Thank goodness the last few months have me well trained for sitting on the couch. This time staring wistfully into the distance and wishing I was in Sydney. Holding the latest member of the Dobbins clan, Phoebe Arbella. All 9 pounds and 10 precious ounces of her. Our "in utero" flower girl is finally here.

Well done Bronald!

Fursday

2008-08-28T08:16:00.003+10:00

In anticipation of the change of seasons and THE GREAT SHEDDING, Gir and Trout are at maximum fluffitude. It may yet be a white Christmas in OZ.

Must. Resist. Snorgling.

There's claws in dem dare hills (and infinite sneezes)

3 4 A Cause!

2008-08-25T16:01:00.003+10:00

Over at Mikes the Mirabel auction is on!

Round 4 has started including my not so little contribution (yes the largest one is about 40 cm high)

Put in a bid if you're able - Great value for money with three times the cuddle of your average softie!

As a free gift with purchase is the knowledge you are helping a wonderful organisation. Yay!

Simple pleasures

2008-08-23T15:50:00.004+10:00

There is a microwave oven in the house. For the first time since I was a teenager and living at home. It's on loan from the relocating MIL.

Jms and I don't know how we've survived this long without one.

I've regressed to my favourite after school snack. Rice cake + cheese + 10 seconds.

Mmmm. Melty polystyrene joy. Perfect while I catch up with the interwebs.

My only nod to personal culinary development is that at least it's Emmenthaler now rather than Kraft single.

Reminds me of some vases I've seen. Perhaps the Transglass vases by Tord Boontje? Or maybe I've just eaten too much cheese.

4 years in the baking

2008-08-20T17:37:00.003+10:00

My husband thinks I'm a geek for making these biscuits. Like he can talk. Mr Magical Cardboards.

I've had these earmarked in my recipe folder since - well possibly Barcelona. The last time I actually watched the Olympics. Before I became "too cool" and uber intellectual for major sporting events and "national pride". To be Aussie equaled Ocker and thus the cultural cringe seeped into my everyday life.

Fortunately I eventually realised that being so exclusive cut you off from what was going on and the reality was that while you were busy poo-poohing something, you were actually missing out on all the fun.

Besides (appalling channel 7 coverage aside) it's rare to have such an abundance of "good news" on the TV. (Good meaning celebration of human sporting achievements not the glossing over of human rights abuses/pollution/poverty etc in China). If you step back and analyse the "news" you could reasonably assume that we, as a nation, seem to be thoroughly addicted to the trauma and appalling in this world. It is as though only the shocking can rouse our interest. That only the painful can be real. I vehemently disagree.

Happiness is NOT superficial.

It doesn't have to be all sunshine and lollipops, to quote the great (?) Leslie Gore. We just need a little more balance.

Perhaps some Very Silly biscuits.

Fiddly, silly biscuits at that.

With stupid amounts of artificial colouring.

Biscuits, that despite the fiddle and the inexplicably blotchy icing, were perfect and delicious. Worth doing again regardless of sporting events.

So, its almost over for another 4 years. We can go back to our regular programming. We can stop sooking about our position on the medal tally, the "they spend more than us" keeping up with the Jones' type behaviour and remember that we are actually, in the scheme of things, a very small nation. That our achievements are fabulous regardless of what happened last time or who did better this time. That participation is the reward not the precious metals. I'm sure the athletes would agree.

And that perhaps the Arts deserves a piece of the funding pie too.

Mmmm. Pie.

Olympic Rings Biscuits
(recipe from Cadbury newsletter "A Taste of Chocolate" circa 1992)

125g, butter softened
2/3 cup brown sugar
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla essence
1/2 cup grated dark chocolate
1 cup plain flour
1 cup S.R. flour

Icing sugar and food dye (use Cocoa for black)

Pre-heat oven to 160 degrees Celsius. Cream butter and sugar, add egg and vanilla and beat well. Then mix in chocolate and finally the (sifted) flours.

Mix will be quite tacky and crumbly. Form a ball with hands and either refrigerate before rolling out on a well floured surface or place between two sheets of baking paper.

Roll out to about 6mm thick. Refrigerate again till firm. Cut out circles using a large circle biscuit cutter. Then cut out centers with a smaller cutter (these can be cooked as small biscuits or added to dough to make more rings).

*I forgot till this step that I didn't actually own round cookie cutters so I used a well floured upturned Whisky glass and a narrow shot glass. These were fine and actually made really nice large biscuits*

Place rings on a lined baking tray. Cook for 12 - 15 minutes or until lightly golden brown at the edges.

When cold, ice with icing that has been coloured with blue, red, yellow and green food dye . Add cocoa to the icing mix and make as dark as possible for the black rings (tho' bear in mind it may not set rock hard if you add heaps as I discovered). You could just use melted dark chocolate instead.

Makes 20 large biscuits.

Marketeering Racket

2008-08-20T09:54:00.008+10:00

These girls all went to market on Sunday. During the now obligatory last minute trip to Spotlight, I fell under the evil spell of their printed cotton fabric sale. So instead of 4 sets I potentially over committed and slated 7 in total.

And yes I was sewing up till 10pm Saturday night (Jms was a champion "stuffer") but I finished them, every single one. As I cursed slightly wonky faces and unmatched side seams, Jms reminded me graciously that that is the whole point of being handmade.

And I think I finally get it (yes I'm a bit slow at times). Ordinarily I finish a project and think "meh". But this time I was really proud of the results.

Unfortunately due to the usual erratic Melbourne weather factor, there was a lower than expected turn out at the market. But I did sell a couple and they garnered lots of positive comments. As soon as they return from Jean-bean's house I will post photos of the remaining for anyone who is interested in giving them a home.

More Matryoshka

2008-08-11T11:08:00.005+10:00

Can't say I didn't warn you.

Though rather than threesomes I'm trying to instill a bit more of the KISS principle (keep it simple stupid) in my life.

So pairs it is. I really liked doing the larger doll - and will do some more eventually (especially on request) but these guys have a deadline and trying to finish eight smaller softies seems a lot less arduous. Plus I'll have four finished sets rather than only two or three, which when trying to pad out a market stall is a very serious consideration.

"Oh pairs" was a name I trifled with initially, but I guess I've watched too many English TV shows where the aging Dad has run off with the nubile Nanny. So the "au pair" homewreaker connotation is far too strong in the face of a flimsy pun. These girls are far too cute to have to carry around such baggage.

So hopefully, if my arm holds out, these wee lassies will be joining my friend Jeanni who is having a crafty stall at the May Armstrong Childcare Centre's Childrens Market on this Sunday (17th August).

(mind the quick plug)

It is the Centre's main fundraising event of the year (I think entry is $3, kiddlies free) and there will be all sorts of entertainment, crafty bits, cakey bits and some pre-loved bargains - all for a good cause.

It's at Phoenix Park in Malvern East - a park with THE best kid's playground in Melbourne (but then what would I know, I'm just an adult). Well worth checking out anytime of year if you are in the area and have some rug rats of your own. In fact I'd be tempted to "borrow" some just for an excuse to visit. Do a good turn for some frazzled folks you know and steal their kids for the morning!

Starts 9am, with more info here.

Time for Tea (Cake)

2008-08-03T12:32:00.002+10:00

Hankering for a little bit of something - with a scantily clad pantry - I actually made these up in 1/2 an hour from start to 'licking buttery fingertips' finish.

Dodgey-arm egg white whipping included!

Tea Cake (made as 12 Cupcakes/Friands)

1 cup S.R. Flour
1/2 cup castor sugar
30 gms butter
1/2 cup milk (room temperature)
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 egg, separated

Extra butter
Cinnamon sugar

Beat the egg white till soft peaks form and whip in sugar, vanilla and yolk. Meanwhile melt the butter and add to milk. Mix in with egg mixture and then fold in flour gently.

Pour into greased cake tin (or cupcake pans) and bake at 180*C for 30 minutes or till cake tests clean (for cupcakes it should only take about 10 - 15 mins).

Brush cooked cake with more melted butter and sprinkle generously with cinnamon sugar.

Note. I had a wee apple hanging about - which I peeled and chopped up (1 cm x 2 cm ish chunks) and placed a chunk in each pan before baking.

Oh so many shades of yum (practically begging to be eaten while still warm) with a nice cup o' cha!

Belles for Mirabel

2008-08-02T20:16:00.002+10:00

Sheesh. Two weeks went by just like that (snaps fingers).

I was planning to deliver these folk to Mikes last week, but alas, my arm has deigned otherwise. And damn it, every time the sun came out, I found myself wandering off to the park with the dog.

I regret nothing.

I also did some chain stitch embroidery on the backs (poxy photo warning) to emulate the real thing. I think I want to play around with patterned fabrics next and I might even try making some with actual little headscarves ...

I can see these getting more and more elaborate if I get half the chance!

The Winterwood felt is divine to work with - definitely worth the trip across town. Next time I might just buy every colour they have in stock. Though that might be just a tad greedy.

(Group hug)

The days are getting brighter

2008-07-19T12:52:00.007+10:00

I must apologise for the quality of posts lately. Its not that I don't like you - I've just been going through a bit of a blog fatigue patch. Add to that a bit of craft fatigue, cooking fatigue, work fatigue, injury fatigue and of course fatigue fatigue.

But I think it's on the cusp of breaking and when it does I think there will be a gush of new ideas and happenings around here.

The black cloud that threatened to settle in on my mind has been given its marching orders. Starting with a bit of pre-emptive spring cleaning and project completion around the house (plus a little dose of "Ikea Therapy"). If I'm going to be spending more time at home convalescing it might as well look nice and inspire positive thoughts.

So Bernard - the fish who claimed he was not long desitined for this world last Christmas, has new digs. He still "plays dead" just to keep me on my toes but at least I don't shudder everytime I look at the hideous pine stand his tank used to be on. The addition of a bright shiny piece of red furniture has truly transformed the feel of the room instantly.

Not the best photo I managed to take but the only one without a blur of dog with his new chew toy in the foreground.

I also got rid of my giant "hard rubbish" monitor (that used to sound like a WoMD everytime it turned on). The desk has been cleared and for the first time is not covered in random paperwork, giant dust bunnies and crap. Much more conducive to creative works. (Note. Charles Christopher wallpaper - more on that later)

Poor Europa though, has had to find alternative sleeping arrangments (and yes, he did try to climb on top - nearly cutting the new monitor and his own life drastically short). But I think the lack of radiation constantly frying his brain will do him some good in the long term. He has been acting a little strange since the new monitor has arrived. Maybe he's just coming down.

AND I finished my Mirabel sofie(s). But I'll post that later because otherwise I'll be here for hours fiddling with photos.

The final bit of news is that one of my best friends has just bought a beautiful house (today infact - at auction) that is only 20 minutes away. Which is MUCH better than nearly 1,000 kms away.

Wordless Wednesday

2008-07-16T09:06:00.001+10:00

Wordless Wednesday (ish)

2008-07-09T17:29:00.005+10:00

Trouty helping.

Was there really NO other flat surface available in the house?

(Note: in addition to my rick rack collection she is sitting on a pair of scissors and my spare wrist splint)

Mirabel softie WIVSP.
(Work in VERY SLOW Progress).

My arm has had a relapse. Don't send well wishes - send drugs. Copious amounts.

Mirabel prototypes #364, #365 & #366, subsection "C".

(Not sure if that stands for Calico or Christ this is taking an inordinate amount of time).

Too bad if you're over Matryoshka. I'm not.

And I've got ideas for about another 6 billion of them so learn to bite your tongue. Due to constant pain in my right arm I also have a very low tolerance for crap dished my way.

So I will be indulged. Nerh.

Wordless Wednesday (East German design)

2008-07-02T09:01:00.001+10:00

From here.

Friday Archive

2008-06-27T17:54:00.001+10:00

Sorry folks - another (dreary) comic from the archive.

I don't think I was the only one out there who felt that law school was more like a sausage factory.

University in general. When did we stop having "a go" on the job and insist that everyone had to have a degree? (though I am immensely grateful for the modern and sophistocated medical and engineering education systems)

Once upon a time, lawyers were grubby little apprentices just like butchers or blacksmiths. Not a noble calling at all.

I wish VTAC forms had a check box for "blacksmith". At least by the time I was 25 I'd have paid off my cottage and had a new set of shoes for the Clydesdale - rather than a rusted out Nissan Bluebird and an exorbitant HECS debt.

Wordless Wednesday

2008-06-25T08:40:00.001+10:00

From here.

Fishy Fish... still a work in progress

2008-06-23T09:34:00.000+10:00

I had a brain wave about these guys that originally were supposed to be a cushion cover...

Such fiddly little bits that are only machine stitched on - no match for cats, dogs, kiddlies or a washing machine for that matter.

Why not instead a wall hanging - and a good excuse to use some of my kimono fabric scraps which are wasting away in the cupboard?

And quite frankly I'm sick of having to move it every time I want to use my sewing machine (its home for the past year has been draped over the machine cover as it is the only place I can keep it flat without the cats nesting on it).

I finally finished the top stitching and blocked it together with some like minded panels. It still needs at the very least a larger piece above - something tonally similar to the linen - but with a bit of a pattern perhaps?

I'm not convinced that this is its final incarnation (and definitely not its final destination). I have only tacked it all together and not even straightened or finished the sides - but at least it's no longer sitting on the machine.

The eagle eyed will also spot my Mirabella softie WIP. I feel Claire's pain.

Souper Sunday

2008-06-22T14:07:00.007+10:00

Seems like things are going a bit haywire in my neck of the woods. Very sick kiddies in hospitals, very sick MIL in hospitals, crazy viruses left, right and centre and general Major Familial upheaval.

I'm sure the chaos fever will break soon and give us all a moments pause to take stock.

In the meantime ... things to do with stock (I promise that pun was not planned...)

Roasted Sweet Potato and Nutmeg Soup

1 very large sweet potato (1 kg approx)
25 grams butter or oil
1 large brown onion, chopped finely
2 sticks of celery, chopped finely
1+ litre of vegetable stock
200ml coconut milk
1/2 teaspoon of freshly grated nutmeg (or to taste - freshly grated always seems more pungent)
Salt and Pepper (optional)

Preheat oven to 200 degrees C.

Place whole unskinned sweet potato on a tray or roasting pan and roast in oven for an hour or until cooked (ie. can be pierced with a skewer through the thickest part easily). It will dribble and ooze so you might want to use foil or a baking sheet underneath. Cool slightly.

Melt butter in a large saucepan and add onion and celery. Saute over medium heat until onion is translucent (caramelise a little if you like). Add stock and slowly bring to boil. Meanwhile peel cooled sweet potato and chop roughly (skin ought to just slip off - and discard any woody or stringy bits, darkish bits are OK though). Add to stock. Simmer for a little while till everything is soft and mushy. Remove from heat, cool slightly and process with a blender till smooth.

Add coconut milk and nutmeg, heating gently (Do not boil). Season to taste.

Ladle into warm bowls and garnish with toasted shredded coconut and chopped chives if you so desire!

(adapted from a Vogue Entertaining recipe I believe from so many years ago I cannot be sure)

Post "Post Script" - although a favourite recipe, I'm afraid it tragically fell into the "you wish" category today - laziness opting instead for re-heated Thai takeaway. But I assure you it is super soup... mtc (more to come)

Friday Archive

2008-06-20T13:57:00.002+10:00

More from the ol' notebook

Including obligatory Diesel Sweeties phase...

Happy Birthday to Bronald and Pauly!

Mine!

2008-06-14T02:43:00.002+10:00

It arrived almost a week ago - thanks Liz - It's perfect!

Just took me a while to get a ~~decent~~ photo... (I photoshopped out the cat hair)

'twas the cornerstone of my "Sex and the City" outfit last weekend, coupled with my new metallic boots (which incidentally co-ordinated nicely with the curtains at The Sun Theater).

Thanks also (again) to Ms Bollywood for organising an awesome night out and dragging us all over to Yarraville.

And from the post film discussion, I think my husband has proved he is more girly than me... I've never been so proud (except for the time he called me from Vegas and gushed about the Jimmy Choo shoes).

Friday Archive

2008-06-13T21:12:00.006+10:00

I stumbled upon an old notebook I'd forgotten about whilst cleaning up last week.

The few drawings in it were from a particularly melancholy patch where I struggled to get out of bed let alone draw.

Previously I've experimented with naive art as a release from intensive technical drawing periods and the quest to translate actual onto the page.

When I was the most depressed, drawing became my nemesis because I lacked the drive, attention span or the nimbleness to complete anything "realistic". Allowing myself the freedom to work with simple geometry and a basic palette, slowly coaxed my brain and hand to work together without any expectations.

Intellectualisation aside, it was just plain fun. The simple joy of unpretentious newsagent colour pencils and paper.

As far as aromatherapy is concerned, the smell of a box of pencils always fills me with a sense of serene excitement. It is possibly my favourite smell (closely followed by toast and puppy tang).

It might not be everyone's cup of tea, but this style of drawing still really appeals to me. Its simplicity belies the depth of emotion behind it.

So be prepared to suffer more over the coming weeks!

Wordless Wednesday

2008-06-11T18:21:00.004+10:00

I did play Shula's game (v. cool) - but managed to delete the links so only have the mosaic. Interesting indeed. But poor Christian's head got cut orf.

Warm Fuzzy

2008-06-10T17:03:00.002+10:00

A little project that I've had on the back burner for a while (no pun intended). Finished and appreciated...

I'm not sure why I've decided to make the ugliest part of our lounge room a feature - but perhaps it's a vain attempt at deflection?

I made my own corded binding (properly this time). I now understand why there are special sewing machine feet to do this. Trying to hide the stitch line on the bind is really tricky. I even used a single sided zipper foot to get as close as possible but the seam is still not close enough when turned right side out.

Oh well, it is going to get covered in cat hair and pup-crust soon enough so I should just bite my tongue (but before I do, if the dog does destroy it, I think the gingham would look better cut on the bias)

Though I hardly expect you to form an opinion as to the cushion's aesthetic value - as these are quite possibly the worst photos I've ever taken. That's the catch with seeking constant improvement - it demands constant diligence. I hereby hang up my perfectionist mantle and give you "barely adequate". I can live without the ulcers for now.

Inspired by this wee guy. Apologies but I have no idea where this photo is from. I assume by the kawaii perfection of the shot it's from a Japanese craft tome.

Friday Archive (belated)

2008-05-31T12:30:00.008+10:00

The cover illustration for my entry in to the Textiles Institute competition in 2nd year at RMIT Brunswick. The Grand prize was/is 4 weeks tuition and accommodation at the Paris American Academy.

Probably the last time I played with gouache and pencils (I was soon after introduced to Adobe illustrator
and it's been my friend ever since).

I was a finalist, but wasn't really in a position to give it my all (quite the theme for my time at Fashion School really).

I am sometimes saddened that I was not able to take advantage of all the awesome opportunities that crossed my path at RMIT. But bigger things were happening, not all apparent from the surface. It is this deeper story I am reminded of when ever I see this drawing.

Still reeling from my Grandfather's death the previous year - it was a time of great emotional upheaval for me.

Part of my rationale for going back to Uni was to find somewhere to hide while I continued my daily, if not hourly, battle with clinical depression. My ability to function had been seriously hampered for some time, but I loved working with textiles and if I didn't show up for a few days no-one got cross. As a Mature Age student, most teachers guessed if you weren't there you had a good reason.

My Grandfather's death set in motion a series of events that have changed my life dramatically. Ultimately for the better, but in the midst of the maelstrom it was hard to see that.

I had chosen to cease all contact with my Mother. A decision that was not made lightly. A decision that still makes me an outcast with half of my family (including my nearly 99 year old maternal Grandmother). A decision that had me frightened, however irrationally, that she would show up on my wedding day and try to ruin the one thing that has kept me alive. I have grieved for the loss of her in my life. And I suspect I will always despise Mother's day for its annual reminder that I chose to rip out my own heart rather than let it kill me from the inside out.

I started going to CASA house. Buried deep was a secret so horrific I'd managed to hide it from several years of psychological analysis. The layers covering up the abuse were finally starting to be peeled off. Several years on, I still struggle to put this into words. If I could write a dedication in the book of "my life so far...", I would note profound gratitude to my counselor Mary M, for well, everything.

But from this pile o' shite, some flowers were born. With the money from Granpa's small estate, my Dad took me on an overseas pilgrimage to discover my roots. It was a profound experience with infinite joyous memories I draw from everyday.

I also got the opportunity to get to know my father. Our past together is complicated. He was a violent and angry man for a long time. He hurt my brother and I very deeply. But I have managed to achieve an adult relationship with him, which I value very much.

I also realised that Jms was my "till death do us part" guy. Despite our shared experiences of diabolical marriages, it was still an institution worth signing up for. Sitting in the bath, as he washed my hair, post 22 hour flight from LA, I informed him we were getting married.

I think I managed to make it back to school for the rest of the semester (mostly). I cobbled a garment together for the finalists' fashion parade, but my heart wasn't in it. My brain was busy re-wiring itself.

And I can honestly say - that I must have done a pretty good job of it - because my current RSI "stumbling block" has not plunged me back into the darkness of depression. It may inspire tears, frustration and require a re-think of my career path and goals, but by and large I am pretty happy to be here.

My friend, the gorgeous and awe inspiring Laura, won the competition. And she deserved it. I may have delusions of fashionistic grandeur, but this girl IS fashionistic grandeur - and with the callouses to prove it. I continue to be blown away by her hard work and vision. I await the debut of her own label with bated breath.

At least I'm not panhandling with a 3 legged dog

2008-05-31T11:47:00.005+10:00

Started back at work this week. If you call 2 x 3hour sessions of the most pathetic attempts to be useful "back at work".

3 hours of "Can you do this basic task?" - "No sorry its too painful".

Tried my best to ignore the resentful tone and bitchiness. Hey this is fashion after all - What were you expecting? Sympathy?

Feel like a right eejit as I struggled to put A4 sheets of paper in to A4 plastic pockets.

Really appreciate the quiet word from a senior in another team, saying "Take your time, don't let them push you around".

Watch helplessly as a co-worker struggled with a computer program I could use in my sleep (but apparently not with one arm tied behind my back)

Feeling so demoralised (and in pain) after the first session I had to fight bawling my eyes out on the train ride home.

Swaddling my arm in ice packs and wailing like a banshee, till exhausted, I eventually feel asleep (at 3 in the afternoon).

Rinse. Repeat.

Less wailing the second time though. Thankfully.

P.S. Workcover has finally approved my claim. Yay - we can go to the supermarket! (6 weeks on leave without pay is an added complication I could have lived without)

As Age so aptly highlighted - at least we do have Workcover. If I was in any one of the places in Asia he's worked, it would be just me and the dog.

The Art of Homemade (The Friday Archives)

2008-05-23T09:20:00.007+10:00

Still no crafting on the home front due to RSI complications.

The good/bad news is I'm starting back at work next week. I'm not sure I'm ready, but I guess I'll never jump out of bed saying "Yay I want to go back to work!", but you gotta put on a brave face and give it a go. Besides I have a few medico's in my corner if it all goes to shit.

Anyhoo - what's a craft blog without any craftin'?

So here is a bit of show and tell - Friday Archive style. I'm not sure I can commit to this meme because I think most of my back catalogue (that has photos) has already been shared.
And I might not be able to do anything artistic for a little while yet (unless I dig real deep into that A2 folder hiding behind the couch... trust me, we DON'T want to go there)

So an addendum to my "handmade oath" is that I always make my own cards.

I've been doing this for a few years - initially because I'd always forget to purchase them (and decent ones are always so expensive).

My earliest card making foray was in my pre-teens - having forgotten to get tags for the Christmas presents my brother and I had bought, I made a little foam stamp in the shape of a Christmas tree and used watercolour paints to ink it. Well the tradition kinda stuck, and each year I'd think up new styles and colour schemes, that almost took more time and effort than the gifts themselves.

Now the family doesn't buy Christmas presents but does a Kris Kringle style make or bake which suits me fine (though I think some members of the family might be sick of my biscuits!).

Integral to the gift giving for me now though is the card making. I'm ashamed to say (Dr Jimothy avert your eyes) I've even sent off gifts late because I couldn't get the card right.

Shameful.

Talking of delays, this rule was not relaxed for our wedding invitations either. Eight weeks out from the big day (ie. Christmas) I was too busy printing and sewing invites that no-one received Christmas cards last year. My bad.

I've been experimenting lately with cut out style cards. I'd love to develop a small range and get the them professionally cut (RSI issues necessitates getting them made) with a view to sell, but I wouldn't have a single clue about how to do this. If anyone has any ideas - please let me know.

As you can see I'm also a fan of using fabric as wrapping. To me it is the gift that gives twice (especially when the recipient is a craftster who I know will put it to good use).

Wordless Wednesday

2008-05-21T09:17:00.001+10:00

(this meme is a god send for a blogger with RSI)

In my garden...

What the Lord give, the Lord taketh away...

2008-05-20T11:33:00.006+10:00

Whilst picking some rosemary I discovered to my delight that my Tahitian Lime had finally decided to bear fruit to maturity. Excited by my little clutch of nearly ripe limes I pulled back a few branches - only to notice lumps within the branches - all over the tree...

A quick Google search reveals my poor tree - that has been nursed through several drought stricken years and was finally surging with new life, flowers and fruit - is ridden with gall wasp.

Apparently with this kind of infestation (most of the branches are affected) I have to destroy the whole tree. How is that fair?

Poor little guy.

Broccoli and Bjork

2008-05-19T18:11:00.002+10:00

Unfortunately in the weeks preceding the BIG DAY Jms and I had a need to go to Chadstone on many occasions. Dear God that place makes me worry for the fate of humanity, on so many levels.

But depressive, morally high-horsed diatribes aside - after the fix of fresh tempura salmon handrolls (still warm!) had quelled my distress, we happened to find ourselves in Borders in a postprandial bliss and stumbled upon the bargain bin books. More like the great wall of crazily cheap and random books that was at once inviting and overwhelming at the same time.

Well random indeed found me walking out with an armload of stuff including these two books. Possibly purchased only because they were so cheap - but both have proved to be outstanding little finds.

I don't know what caught my eye about this one - but I'm glad it did. A quick flick showed some really promising recipes. For the uninitiated, I LOVE soup. Bizarrely I never order it at restaurants, but if ever I can cook some, I'm there, wooden spoon at the ready. Perhaps its the lazy cook in me that likes the one pot meal coupled with the prep once for multiple meals.

Who could go past the strangeness of Broccoli and Oatmeal soup? Probably plenty - but not this little black duck. Just the kind of wackiness this doctor ordered - and it has proved to be an instant favourite.

(Though I may be biased - I am a Broccoli freak, I could eat it everyday - and actually try to. Jms achieved 5 star-husband status last week by discovering and cooking Oven Roasted Broccoli for me last week - OMG it was good) .

There are some really interesting flavour combinations (Brussel Sprout and Stilton, Carrot and Almond Cream, Dill and Turnip) that as you read make sense and get those taste buds tingling. It might be a little "new age" for some (soup as remedies for bad skin, circulation and sex drive starters!) but the recipes speak for themselves. There is also a really good section at the back for great soup additives - dumplings and such to turn simple soups into rib sticklers.

Bargain Number two was this biography of the world's most famous Icelandic.

I've been a fan girl from the moment the first strains of "Birthday" entered my ears oh so many years ago. My obsession ran to slowly acquiring every single remix that ever existed (foot slog style visiting second hand music shops - in the days before P2P click and download entire oeuvre option). And to Jms' credit he stayed with me all through the 6 months of listening to Vespertine at least once, if not multiple times a day.

Fortunately though my fervour has waned - partly because other obsessions came (Decemberists anyone?) and because Volta still doesn't quite gel with me (apparently though I'm not the only one).

I found it an engrossing read that goes some way to reconcile the disparate images of the uber cool artist and the unstable and eccentric individual. As a creative finding my way in what seems a marketing and product driven world - it was comforting to read that commercial success was never sought by her and her meteoric rise up the pop charts was so out of left field it completely blindsided her world. I still admire her single mindedness and commitment to her art, and am admittedly somewhat jealous that she was able to find her calling at such a young age.

Top 10 things to look at when confined to the couch

2008-05-08T22:13:00.003+10:00

1. Pushing Daisies. It has not aired here yet, someone was good enough to send it over from the states - though Channel Nine says its "Coming Soon" (lets hope they don't treat it like Seven did Buffy). At first the premise seams too thin to support a series - but persevere, this show is awesomely good.

Beetlejuice meets hyper-real 50's sitcom whodunit that is futuristic at the same time. It will make you crave pie so much you'll whip out your nicest floral pinny and start rubbing butter in to flour. The writer's strike halted production so the last made episode was re jigged into a season finale.

Pray for season two people. I said PRAY!

2. Avatar - The Last Airbender. I know this has become a Nickelodeon merchandising cash cow - but the cartoon itself is great fun for all ages. A real plot, character development and excellent animation.

Any one who does Tai chi or other martial arts will recognise some of the moves (the animators had lessons in different styles so they could get a real feel for the moves). If you are already a fan - check out some of the chibi style special episodes. What I particularly like about Avatar is that the writers actually care about their characters (even the "bit" characters like Momo and Appa).

3. Peruse the Allison Janney back catalogue.

I *love* her. I suspect I may even want to be her (Gorgeous 6ft glamazon - why not?)

Obviously West Wing is top priority. But when the erudite but sassy dialogue gets to much (155 episodes!) time out with some Juno or even the cute cameo in 10 Things I hate about you. The Hours is a great film - but obviously suffers for Allison's lack of lines (lol).

4. Studio Ghibli movies. Any. I am yet to see one I don't like. Howl's Moving Castle is my favourite (but only just). I have just a little bit of a crush on Christian Bale (the voice of Howl in the Disney/English release).

Excuse a slight digression here - but he has such an interesting film pedigree. Empire of the Sun to Little Women, The Machinist, The Prestige and American Psycho (can't say I can bring myself to watch that one). And personally, I think his Batman is the best.

(Non-comic book folk feel free to switch off here)

Don't get me wrong, I have enjoyed all the Batman movies - and they have truly laid to rest the Adam West TV series "Boof! Thwacko!" style (that indeed has its own camp appeal). It's just that as the wife of a comic book geek I got to side step the cheese of Batman comics and was given Dark Knight Returns and Killing Joke to cut my teeth on. Tim Burton's Gotham is stunning, but Batman Begins gives the character of Bruce Wayne a provenance and realism more cogent with vigilante justice.

Obviously wrapped lovingly in the escapist veil of fastasy and superherodom and with tongue planted firmly in cheek.

Where was I?

5. After all the colourful eye candy, stretch the intellectual muscle with a book - for me its been Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. This was required reading back in English Lit class. Unsurprisingly my 18 y.o. mind found it tedious and self indulgent. At Jms' behest I gave it a second go and I am enjoying it immensely. I guess some books find you when you are ready.

6. Zen can be pretty hard going in places so for a moments cerebral pause try "Small Graces" by Kent Nerburn - a surprising little book I found on my Dad's "Toilet" bookshelf amongst the Jackie French collection. Beautifully written, pithy passages that don't preach or have that "Hallmark" saccharine smugness. Genuine and heartfelt (and nice textured paper).

7. Back to the junk food. Mulan. Yes there might be an Anime theme here. My absolute favourite Disney. I know the score by heart (Jms knows the score of Aladdin by heart - we were made for each other). And yes I have a soft spot for Asian aesthetics. Some incredible animation. The cheesy final song is the only sour note.

8. Watch shadows dance across the wall as the sun plays tag with the rain. Consider it wise you did not attempt to hang out the washing. Reward yourself with a snooze - preferably under a dog and/or several cats (extra warmth - saves turning on heater).

9. Realise you are trapped under said dog/cats and legs have gone to sleep rendering self unable to move.

10. Stare at the ceiling rose and contemplate its striking similarity to Takashi Murakami's flowers, though it predates him by about 50 years (and I don't think he ever lived in this suburb).

How to grow a pair...

2008-05-08T11:56:00.004+10:00

I lol'd so much I had to follow the link ...

"how to grow a pear"

It's such a cute idea. Definitely a must do when I have an orchard of my own
(looks wistfully into the distance)

High Country Holiday

2008-05-05T16:46:00.014+10:00

Had a wonderous break from the couch this weekend.

My step sister A got married to a wonderful man I'm proud to now call family.
A was bitten by the horse bug at a very young age and has spent her personal and professional life working with horses all around the world. Upon meeting her beau she remarked to her Mum "I've met this bloke AND he's got a horse truck!"

Dad graciously chauffeured Jms and I up to Beechworth for the happy event (Driving still out of bounds esp after a painful "test" trip down to the supermarket - two weeks living off the pantry was getting a bit grim)

It was a beautiful county wedding (albeit frightfully cold) filled with horsey folk and gregarious kids. Having now organised one of those - I am keenly appreciative of all the effort it takes (and very glad to not be in the hot seat). Beechworth turned on the colour and was a great backdrop for the picture prefect bridal party replete with horse and carriage. As per usual Jms acquired a gaggle of girls climbing all over him and putting clips in his hair.

I tried my best to keep up with talk of Thoroughbreds versus Warm bloods and laughed (I believe appropriately) when the best man declared the groom used to ride an Appaloosa (apparently not a serious choice for a horseman). My only equine contribution being "I'm a Clydesdale type myself" - without mentioning it's because they have moccasins. Bravely, I think, the bride and groom held a family dinner the night before the big event at Tanswell's Commercial Hotel. It was a really nice way to meet our new extended family and enjoy a great pub meal (with tasty beers from the Bridge Road Micro brewery - Oh how WE love a good porter). We stayed in a villa opposite the reception centre - which was really cool having most of the family under one roof again (my teenage self would be scowling at this obviously middle aged reminiscence)

On the journey back we detoured via Milawa where we picked up some gourmet supplies - Milawa Cheese Factory (all vegetarian - yay!), the Olive shop (the Italian herb infused Manzanillo are SO yummy) and Milawa Mustards (I'd never have guessed how much fun a mustard tasting could be!) to name a few.

Then cementing it as our new Hume Highway family tradition, we stopped at the Avenel truck stop (where they have surprisingly good coffee) and consumed our cheese and olive booty in the sunshine.

It may not have done my cholesterol levels any good but it certainly lifted my heart.

6 unimportant things about me that involve celebrities

2008-05-05T13:54:00.003+10:00

Thanks Claire for this little meme into the random and often goofy encounters we have with stardom (which for some strange reason we can't wait to tell everyone we know - regardless of how mundane the story is).

I didn't think I could come up with 6 (I live in an uneventful suburb) but here goes, in all their banality:

I once sold lipstick to Marina Prior - she was a pleasure to serve (and very petite for such a big voice).

I went to law school with Karen Knowles. She was completely gorgeous and friendly - quite an odd thing in the ego world that it was.

Got in Tim Minchin's way as I stepped out of a shop doorway without looking on Brunswick Street. I was quite mortified because this is one of my pet hates (he is surprisingly tall - or perhaps I am just very short)

Tex Perkins commented on how cute our dog was whilst breakfasting at Borsch on Chapel st. Obviously he has excellent taste.

I once fell asleep/passed out on Dave Hughes' couch (it was a share house so couch ownership may be in dispute). I have also witnessed Dave get heckled by random passing traffic. To me this adds to his hapless charm.

Not mine, but Jms (we are married therefore I am entitled to half credit) sent geek boy MTG cards to Delta Goodrem and she very sweetly signed them for him.

I know Jms meets a few celebs through work - but because of confidentiality can't even acknowledge their stardom, let alone talk about it later. Sadly our bragging cachet at dinner parties has been seriously hampered.

Rainbows and Unicorn chasing

2008-04-27T19:03:00.005+10:00

The good news is I haven't been to work in over a week. Yay!

So why haven't I been posting every 5 minutes?

The bad news is I have RSI of my right arm.

So no cutting, crafting, cooking, cleaning or computing (accept perhaps for maybe a 5 minute session once a day - consisting of pathetic left-handed mousing and painfully slow one finger typing). This missive is in fact brought to you courtesy of several days of strained and dogmatic attempts to post.

I can't surf the net, hold a book or even hold a pen. And yoga is only to be undertaken within very strict parameters.

I certainly didn't appreciate how much I would yearn for something as simple as downward dog. And how my heart almost broke when class this morning finished off with handstands (while I lay in a sad puddle on the floor).

I am sick of watching TV and being house bound (oh yes - no driving either). Even supposedly "low impact" walking can be quite painful as every jolt seems zero in on my inflamed joints.

So blah blah blah - woe is me.

Feeling more than a little glum (and just a tad bored) last week I was reminded of the concept of unicorn chasing. I haven't googled it - but the premise as explained to me by my bestest beloved is that whenever you see or read something awful - the need to replace this ugliness in your mind's eye with something pleasant or cute is known as "unicorn chasing". So for example, after reading a news post about war atrocities one might recover by having a quick perusal of the Cute Overload archives. Or doing an image search for Unicorns (if that's your thing) - hence the name.

Well in dire need of supplanting the idea of being out of action (or at considerably reduced capacity) for some time, and the usual kitten /puppy route not antidote enough - I thought instead of the serendipitous joy of finding a random rainbow amongst the flotsam and jetsam of everyday objects.

The refraction of light off a glass. A cluster of shiny colouring pencils. A stash of fabrics assorted by colour. Showers of rain coupled with sunshine haven't cornered the market on spontaneous gratification as far as I am concerned.

I love rainbows. How could you not?

I am sure, in the great encyclopaedia of life, its listed under the entry "to be human".

I recall a moment in high school - whilst rehearsing for our production of the Wizard of Oz.

The stage crew were assembling the set whilst around was general mayhem. School bags, scripts and instruments strewn from one end of the Alexander theater to the other. The cacophany of students, outnumbered teachers trying in vain to quell the storm. All reduced to a silent awe as the 20 meter silk rainbow was lifted to the apex of the stage.

Mesmerised. Speechless.

Pretty powerful stuff.

If I can't go back to my current job, I am seriously considering the possibility of Unicorn Chasing as career.

Poivron, Courgette and le petite Aubergine are good friends

2008-03-30T16:37:00.012+11:00

There I was cursing the hot weather - and now its gone!

Today it feels like we've skipped Autumn altogether and Winter is sneaking in the back door and quietly stealing the bed covers.

I'd planned to make Ratatouille a la Ratatouille (big ups to Smitten Kitchen for ideas) during summer when all those provencale vegies were in abundance. But what with the general hotness and my general cooking malaise (as a bride-to-be I refrained from going on a "dress diet" unless of course takeaway pizza 4 nights a week is considered a viable weight loss program). So indeed I had neglected to make hay while the sun shone.

But its seems I have been given a last minute reprieve. I stopped in at Macro on the way home from Yoghurt and there were lots of perfect wee eggplant and good looking zucchini at not crazy off-season prices - so with thyme fingered hands I present dinner. (I did take a photo pre-cooking in all its multi-coloured glory but alas the light was a bit wrong and the resulting picture rather sickly - not exactly a drawcard when food blogging. So I redirect you to Smitten, again).

Pretty yummy - and not that watery mush ratatouille often can be. I did a slow roasted version some time back - but this is better (and far less oily). The moghrabieh though is still a little undercooked. Damn you wacky ingredients!

It makes me want to watch the movie again. "Little chef" is now a term of endearment for the dog when he tries to help when I am cooking (ie. be under foot) or when the cats are making biscuits on my pillow at night. I love Pixar. Their partnerships have brought out the best in Disney. And put those Crappy Sheet penguins to shame.

PS. Happy Birthday Dr Jimothy - hope the skiiing was good!

Goldfish, Lincoln Logs and the Misanthropic Prophet

2008-03-23T16:56:00.007+11:00

Don't get me wrong I think Easter is great (even with the flu - 5 days and counting!)

But it always reminds me of this - one of my many favourite Bill Hicks routines.

WARNING: Some of us Hick's fans can be a little overzealous and some a little "Metal" - so try to look past the power chords and over use of bad visuals. Oh that and the extreme language, absolute adoration of pornography and illicit drugs.

But his words always remain true.

There was a time when I was offended by the blatant sexism and drug use (as a feminist teetotaller should). But I have since learned to get over myself and listen to the beauty (YES beauty) within his monologues. Yes there is rage and bitter despair, but there is also profound wisdom and love.

A soul unfortunately too sensitive to survive in this demanding world.

We miss you Bill. May your weed be sticky and your women big breasted.

Peace Out.

What time is is?

2008-03-21T15:57:00.004+11:00

That last post was a biaatch to edit - too many photos/blogger preview not actually "wysiwyg". I should have split it in to two - but alas my Flu addled breen could not compute anything that logical. I should have just snoozed on the couch and watched Scrubs DVDs like a good unproductive sick person.

Note also my timely case of the flu - 1 week before the work sponsored flu vaccination day. I am SO clever.

Speaking of timely - I present my latest craft offering.

Necessity is the mother of invention.

My work was taken over by a much larger company and although all our patternmaking will eventually go computerised our team still does it manually. This is not usually a problem, but we have also moved offices and instead of having large patternmaking tables each and a separate cutting table, I have been reduced to sharing a table with the senior patternmaker (and both our computers) and still expected to make patterns and cut samples manually. Very ho-hum and not very "worksafe".

Sooking aside, to make my work systems run more smoothly with less space I though it high time I made my pin cushion ergonomic, and reduce the need for bending and twisting every time I needed a pin. Not exactly rocket science. Wristband pincushions have probably existed longer than I've been alive (I refer you to my cleverness as stated above).

A girl I went to RMIT had a watch shaped one that her Nana crocheted for her that was too cute. I was impressed beyond measure and thought from then on that this should be the only form they take.

Given that now I work in an office filled with real live Anna-Wintour-wannabe fashionistas, even entertaining the thought of trying to keep up is preposterous. (Initially I proclaimed I would wear make up and high heels everyday - the heels didn't make it out of the house on day one, the lipstick lasted 3 days). My penchant for wearing jersey dresses and flat boots belies my deep love of high fashion and avante-garde design. And who knows, one day I just might slouch around in Junta Watanabe jersey dresses and Sergio Rossi boots. Till the day I obviously have more money than sense, I figure the best course of action is to run in the opposite direction and wear my hand-quilted, vintage fabric heart on my sleeve, or wrist as the case may be. So geeky, overstuffed and silly Gucci pincushion it is.

And quite frankly I'm glad I was too lazy to change the white thread on my machine. The seam "grin" looks like perfect minute marks.

And Cartier would have been my brand of choice (with a blue button winder) but again laziness overcame the desire to hand stitch in cursive. Call it my first project in the up-and coming companion book called "Cutting-corners Sewing" for the can't be arsed crafter. Probably not in a bookstore anytime soon.

Russian Tidbits

2008-03-17T22:34:00.003+11:00

There is a shop near my house by the same name - that has all manner of interesting yumbly things. Walking past always reminds me of the smell of my Granpa's kitchen - strange smelly socks cheese and cured meats.

After Grandma passed away and her Swiss-german style weiner schnitzel reign that my brother and I enjoyed for so long, came to a healthy close, our traditional family meal became simple rye bread (always with carraway seeds) served with cheeses and a variety of cold sliced meats or sausage.

Oh the sausage! Usually an amazing heart stopping variety that was a smoky concoction of unknown animal variety, spices and garlic that would repeat on you for hours and no doubt be "enjoyed" by all you encountered for the rest of the day.

Granpa was Polish, but he was international in his tastes, so I am yet to identify what kind particular sausage this was. But every time I go to Russian Tidbits I can smell it in the air. Unfortunately I don't speak a scrap of Russian and the place can get pretty jam packed with short but large folk who can be a little intimidating (especially when it seems their only method of communication is yelling at the top of their hoary voices). So I am yet to overcome my crippling shyness to ask for help in selecting and preparing my smallgoods. I usually get completely overwhelmed by the smells and noise (its all a little too close to home) and snatch some cherry jam before I escape out the door and seek refuge on a park bench where I can have quiet sit down to recover.

Anyway. This, by way of random segue, is a little tribute to some of my favourite russian tidbits, in no particular order. None of which are actually edible.

Of course topping the list is my Matryoska pictured above. I had a little a set of three growing up (that was I think was actually Swiss) Unfortunately one of the dogs got a hold of it and destroyed all but the littlest one. My repressed mourning lead me to collect a few "lost" individuals at garage sales and markets along the way (but they are buried in a box somewhere that will not be located). I remember also being obsessed with this clip from Sesame Street. To me the idea of 10 nesting dolls was the ultimate, so I was pretty thrilled when I finally got this set of seven.

And I've had to fight my virgo nature and refrain from pulling the sticker off the bottom.

Next are some great children's books I've also collected over time. I love folk art, and these in particular have such great illustrations.

The first is based on the 1835 poem by Aleksandr Pushkin, published in 1969.

The story is a tale of woe with a simple moral of those who are greedy end up with nothing. The nagging, never satisfied wife really encapsulates the "fish-wife" stereotype. Therefore, not necessarily a book I'd recommend to read to impressionable minds wanting positive role models.

But the water colour art is beautiful, and the palette timeless.

Second is the classic Peter and the Wolf.

The illustrations are by an English artist Alan Howard, of whom I can find little information on the interwebs. But I guess we can't all be famous.

Nevertheless his art is peppered with sweet folky motifs and a wolf who seems more hapless than big and bad. Petulant Peter gets his wolf - with due acknowledgment to the little bird who helps. Grandfather is suitably worried and gnome like. Although the hunters arrive at the last minute the fate of the wolf is relegated to being taken to the zoo - which though unlikely, I must remind myself is a classic childrens' tale (therefore generally completely unsuitable for modern children a la Brothers Grimm). So no room for a sensitive yet realistic denouemont here.

And staying on the petulant theme is this little gem:

Essentially a Russian version of the classic gingerbread man story. He gets made, he escapes (several times) he get's all obnoxious about it and pays the ultimate sacrifice for pride and gets eaten. But the art is very nice. My favourites are the down-and-out hippie wolf (who reminds me of this guy) and the honey stealing bear (who could have stepped out of a Maurice Sendak book). Copyright info here.

And last but not least is Vinni Puh. I adore Winnie the Pooh (or Winnie ther Pooh as Christopher Robin would stipulate). But it has to be "naked pooh" ie. E.H. Shepard - not the awful Disney stuff that makes him to be a pathetic idiot (The difference between simple and simplistic seems to be completely missed by some folk). Anyway, that is a tirade for another day.

Ample people before me have espoused the supreme merits of the Russian animated version and I would just like to include my voice amongst theirs. Quite apart from the exquisite and emotive art, Vinni himself is alive with vim and verve. Again very different from A.A Milne's subtle bear of very little brain, but delightful nevertheless. His machine-gun patois is a little astonishing at first, but soon enough natural and charming (even without subtitles). And the voice of Piglet is perfect.

29th February 2008, approximately 5.03 pm AEST

2008-03-08T20:00:00.018+11:00

I got married!

Its been 8 years in the making. And it was worth the wait.

All the handsewing, the 7am dress fittings, the breakneck visits to Chadstone to buy last minute items (sushi, chicken fillets, suits, sushi, pashminas, shirts, sushi, sandals, lipstick, ever more sushi)

Sleepless nights worrying about having enough fabric, enough time, enough food and enough friends. Preparing for monsoonal rains and antartic winds.

Not caring about any of these things in the end because I got to marry the most incredible man in the whole world.

Witnessed by a small but stellar group of wonderful people - whose mere presence made it the most amazing day of my life.

Smiling, crying, laughing and thinking I'd burst with all the love.

Being blessed with sunshine, sunshine and more sunshine.

Proud to be upstaged by the cutest flower girls ever.

AND the tiniest flower girl ever.

And the furriest page boy ever.

My heart overflows with love and gratitude to all who made it possible.

Thank you.

Regular programming will return shortly

2008-02-23T21:04:00.005+11:00

Without posting about apologising for not posting - I would just like to say one little thing.

Something awesome is happening - I just can't tell. Because it's a secret.

No hints, no blow by blow WIP pictures, no palaver or ringing of bells and whistles.

Not long now. We're almost there.

Just be patient, sit tight, and all will be revealed.

(Followed by a return to regular posting - I promise)

Got girt?

2008-01-26T14:10:00.000+11:00

Beneath our radiant Southern Cross,

We'll toil with hearts and hands,

To make this Commonwealth of ours

Renowned of all the lands,

For those who've come across the seas

We've boundless plains to share,

With courage let us all combine

To advance Australia fair!

In joyful strains then let us sing,

Advance Australia fair!

What do they call Brazil Nuts in Brazil?

2008-01-20T18:24:00.000+11:00

just nuts?

(I know they're not called almonds - that jar just happened to be empty. As will it be again soon. So yummy. So expensive - damn you certified organic produce and your infinite betterness)

Take that pin and shove it

2008-01-20T16:42:00.000+11:00

Euugh. I have just had an uninspiring dress fitting and my self esteem is having what economists call a "correction".

I know there is a complete and whole block of chocolate in the pantry. I'm hoping that my will is strong - after all it has been there almost a week already (which is a miracle around jms) but sadly there is a definite possibility that the little "glass and a half" it may not live to see the days end.

What's worse - I'd just had a really good yoga class and my teacher complemented my practice.

Unfortunately having someone point out every single one of your body's aesthetic faults can be a little soul destroying. It probably doesn't help that I've come home and started listening to this song on repeat. Perhaps I ought to put on something a bit more "$#@& you" perhaps some Tool, Nine Inch Nails or Rammstein. They're not very girl power though, which I feel is my feminist duty in this situation. I don't really have any "get your war on" music. Maybe I'll just put on some techno and let the high bpm stimulate my serotonin levels.

Or I could just eat the chocolate.

I may look like a dogs breakfast

2008-01-17T21:12:00.001+11:00

But I assure you I am delicious.

Indeed I am the answer to the question of what to do with a surfeit of plums (but its too late in the evening to bake a cake or you can't be bothered getting the mixer out to make some pastry for a tart)

Why yes, I am Plum Clafoutis. Pleased to meet you.

Recipe shamelessly lifted from here - accompanied by a delightful poem to boot. In fact their photos are supremely better too.

I might be a tad jealous but fortunately I have bowl full of oozy fragrant joy to console my ego.

(Post Script - without a lie, the left overs ARE excellent for breakfast)

Sweet & Sour

2008-01-14T19:59:00.000+11:00

The best thing about enduring the inevitable streak of 40 degree days in January - is the delicious tropical booty to be found at your local market. Peaches, plums, nectarines, and mangoes - by the arm load and all those wacky ones that from the outside suggest there could not possibly be anything delicious contained within.

I could seriously become a fruitarian. But only in summer. Obviously.

My only sour note is the recent passing of a wee friend. Manuel "Fatty" Sanchez was a little golden ball of joy who greeted me every morning with a pert little shuffle and a voracious appetite. Such a happy little soul who had nothing but joy to give. Tireless tank companion to Bernard the grumpy.

Rest in peace little friend.

(Forgive the poxy photo but - he wasn't much of a poser)

New leaf resolutions

2008-01-01T16:05:00.000+11:00

Welcome 2008 - I'm glad to see you!

The past few years of my life have been pretty challenging - they have been for all of us, everywhere. The irony is that challenge is actually what makes it a life.

I don't usually do New Year's resolutions - why wait for an arbitrary date to reassess and make changes? But this time I want to vocalise and set it out like a contract that I am sure to revisit on Jan 1 2009, and no doubt throughout the next year as homework.

The 31st of December 2007 felt like the closing of a chapter of my life. I finally feel like I am in charge and behind the wheel. As much as we ever can. I have some wonderful things to look forward to in the near future - and they seem like a perfect opportunity to cast off the skin of my past. Let go of the bitterness that plagues my head and my heart. To accept who I am, the great and the grim.
It is a simple list:

1. Watch less TV. I love it and it feeds my mind. It is a happy distraction when I am desolate and overwhelmed. But it is the thief of time. I don't drink, I don't smoke, and I don't do drugs, yet it is my soma. And I am in denial. I can't count the number of times I've said "I don't watch much TV but...". Just because it is HBO or some other high quality production, it is still a creative block.

2. Stop carrying around that chip on my shoulder. It's heavy. Even if I can just leave it at home sometimes for parties. My friends know I have had some crap cards dealt my way. I have taken active steps to protect myself from those that can hurt me. I am more resilient than I give myself credit for. Accepting my past and how it has made me who I am does not equate with playing the victim card. I have also been well enough, for long enough, to know I can actually choose to be positive.

3. Be honest about my illness. Not "Hi my name is Cate and I have depression", But take the ego out of the equation and use the doors that acceptance opens rather than bemoan the ones it closes. Announcing this on my blog is hardly keeping a secret. And I am afraid of the consequences - what if my boss decides to Google me as she has joked? Well screw it. Its true to say that the people that count, don't care, and that the people who care, don't count. Instinct tells me I am strong enough to deal with any fall out. Not to say I'm not scared of what this honesty might bring. Not enough people understand depression to release it from its stigma. Hell most days I don't understand it and I've been living with it for probably 20 years. But life experience has shown me that dishonesty not only creates conflict and unhappiness around you, it also fractures your soul. Confessing each horrible detail of my secrets: the violence, emotional and sexual abuse I have endured were diabolically painful. Each memory working its way to the surface like a splinter. But it has also been the most liberating thing. With each telling my voice gets less choked and it feels less like I am cutting myself open and exposing my my core to harm. Confessing my illness is my last secret to tell. It is part of me so why hide it? It is what makes me my best as well as my worst.

We all endeavour to present the best of ourselves in our on-line persona. Its not necessarily ego - its pragmatic. No one wants to post about having nothing to post. But it doesn't always have to be about sunshine and lollipops. The best writers, they ones we constantly return to, balance the rough with the smooth. It is this honestly that creates the personal connection, represents the whole. The perfectness of imperfection - the wabi sabi if you will.

Oh yeah...

4. Eat less junk food.

Kris Kringle

2007-12-28T10:48:00.001+11:00

What do you give a woman who has everything?

I don't actually know, so in the absence of a great idea I made her a pillow.

I suspect history is about to repeat. Crafty things as presents echoes of my maternal grandmothers penchant for "china painting". Actually very sweet and well intended. For the first 10 years. Then it started to be a bit wearisome. All things considered though, I have never suffered the indignantly of being short of a bud vase or lacking a small decorative plate. And with my surfeit of doilies and crocheted hankies, I have never known a decorating crisis nor an unladylike attack of the sniffles.

I was actually quite chuffed with my magpies - until I realised my understudies were of the northern hemisphere variety and it was too late to change (Yay last minute crafting).

Now that I've realised, I can't seem to notice anything other than that at the very least their beaks should be white. Aargh. Perhaps I'll sneak into her house one day and make some ninja style modifications.

This was also my first attempt at binding. I forgot to get cord (one trip to Spotlight on Christmas eve was more than enough for me). So I used some wool yarn instead. Here's hoping it doesn't get put through the machine on hot. It turned out pretty well I think - I only had to unpick once when I forgot to put the binding on before the invisible zip. Yes I AM a professional.

Its hard to see in the photo, but the birds are actually a deep navy - which really pops against the natural linen colour (without being as severe as black would have been). The "glint" is of course my favourite acid yellow. The binding, which I really wish I'd taken a shot of, is a nice indigo and cream fabric reminiscent of the Eames dot pattern. And yes, it was the perfect excuse to lash out on some yummy Japanese linen. Even though I block fused the applique, it still distorted. There really is a lot of give in the weave of this fabric. But that is the nature of linen, which if it weren't for the pin stripe, none would be any the wiser.

Season's Greetings from the southern hemisphere!

2007-12-23T19:12:00.000+11:00

Christmas is always the best excuse to do some serious baking.

Unfortunately its usually stinkingly hot in Melbourne at this time of year - so sweating it out over a hot stove on top of the usual Christmas time over achieving is a little more arduous than fun.

But with plentiful rain being the bestest-ever possible early Christmas present for our drought ridden land, I am seriously enjoying some quality time with my oven.

The last month I have barely stepped foot in the kitchen (except to sneak past the gargantuan pile of dishes and quickly grab the stash of home delivery menus). We have eaten so much pizza lately I'm ashamed to call myself a foodie. However this has been nicely juxtaposed with quite a few "nice" restaurant visits including the work Christmas party at Rockpool - encrusted with enough lobster and wagyu beef to fund a small military operation.

Nice as it was, my heart yearned for the simple pleasure of rubbing butter into flour, adding a bit of this, a touch of that and a few minutes in the oven followed by the heady sweet smell of baked goodness wafting throughout the house. And best of all - I am officially on holiday and can indulge in the fiddly biscuit department to my heart's content.

Now I can't claim any of the credit for these cuties. Instead all kudos goes to an unnamed and probably completely under valued staff chef at Nestle.

To be completely honest, they aren't the best biscuit flavour wise - but they are so much fun to make and the squeals and ahs a plate of these will generate is definitely worth it. They truly do look amazing and are remarkably good at restoring one's Christmas spirit. I am also tickled by the ironic use of a "Star of David" style cutter too.

Christmas Star Biscuits

Preparation time: 50 mins (including chilling time)

Makes approx 20

250g butter
1 tsp vanilla
1/3 cup caster sugar
2 cups plain flour
1/2 cup rice flour
1/4 cup cocoa
1/2 cup clear boiled lollies, chopped

Cream butter, vanilla and sugar in a mixing bowl. Sift flours and cocoa together. Combine with butter mixture, mixing well.

Turn out to a clean surface and knead until dough comes together. Cut in half. Place each half between two sheets of baking paper and roll out to approx 8mm thickness. Refrigerate until firm.

Pre-heat oven to 150 degrees Celsius.

Remove top sheet of paper, cut out shapes using a 7cm star cutter. Place onto a tray lined with paper. Cut out inner star with a 3 1/2 cm cutter and remove. (Collect the "waste" re-roll, chill and repeat for more biscuits)

Bake for 8 minutes, remove from the oven and fill the center with a few chunks of the chopped lollies. Turn up the oven to 180 degrees and bake for a further 8-10 minutes or until the lollies have melted and the biscuits have cooked. Allow to cool on trays.

Notes:
Boiled lollies are often hard to find. Don't use the milky ones because they won't melt properly or give the glass effect. This year the only "boiled style" lollies I could find were Starburst lollipops. They worked fine but were pretty strongly flavoured. Also, don't overfill the middles - otherwise you will break your teeth trying to eat them!