| i'm only going to heaven if it tastes like caramel |
[07 Apr 2008|06:25am] |
This autumn’s gotten very frosty all of a sudden and I’ve had to climb into my wardrobe to retrieve some warm clothes. Turns out I don’t have many! But I am digging porridge, crunchy nut cornflakes with warm milk (so good!) and packing presents. Two a week at least! And the new Hot Chip album. Very funny and sometimes Flight of the Conchords-esque.
I've decided to ignore daylight saving and wake up normal time. Which is now 5.30am. There's just way too much to do!
Stay warm and drink hot chocolate! (it’s extra good with soy milk. So delicious.)
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| jitterbug in pinks and greens |
[02 Apr 2008|08:26pm] |
So I think the trick is to make (or keep) everything as colourful as possible.
I love that you can see the spots through the little Walkman window.
So great!
On my way to the library today there was this bright red HB just lying on the dark grey asphalt.
I went back to save it an hour later but someone had beat me to it.
I accidentally had a coffee today and am so incredibly jittery it’s ridiculous.
At first I thought I was anxious or hyperventilating.
Physically struggling to sit still.
It’s kind of a relief to know it’s just the caffeine.
Silly.
But I’ve made some crazy stuff in my hyper state!
Show you soon.
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| broken baskets and stolen eggs |
[24 Mar 2008|01:58pm] |
The morning of Easter Sunday, a small child hovered at my elbow as I prepared by breakfast. How much longer would I be and could I please eat it in my bedroom with the door closed? He escorted me there, mildly agitated, carrying my Sunday morning staples – the morning paper and my fully laden Care Bears breakfast tray.
For the past month or so, the 11 year old has been planning an easter egg hunt for the whole family. Comparing prices of easter eggs, using his Chinese New Years money to buy them well in advance (I was not so lucky and participated in the Easter Saturday egg rampage at the local shopping center. There was nothing left!) There were rules. Between 8-9am no one was to leave their respective bedrooms. From 8.45-9am we were to dress ourselves, ready for the official start at 9am. At 8.56am there was a knock at the door – could I please choose a basket?
At 8.58am my phone rang. ‘I’m gonna kick your assssssss!!!!!!’ So much for a good morning from Derrick. Game on, I stopped decorating my basket and stood ready at my door- hand on the knob. I peeked outside and saw this.
‘UH UH! I CAN HEAR YOU!’ the small boy doesn’t miss a trick.
We were good to go on time – only a voice cried out from the far corner of the house. My father had lost his basket. Typical. Give the man a basket he only had to mind for two minutes and he loses it. Mum, Dad and Zac started searching frantically. I was already in stitches.
And then it started. The pushing, the shrieking, the falling over, the basket breaking, the grabbing. The falling over and basket breaking was all me and the mother, feigning assistance, made a quick grab for my easter eggs spinning on the ground. The boy was fantastically creative in his egg hiding.
Time out fifteen minutes in – could we count our eggs and see who was the winner? Derrick won by one egg, my mother and I tied for second, my Dady, predictably, came last. He won the losers prize – a very special Crunchie freddo. The boy pulled out the calculator – there were still 5 eggs M.I.A.
He's decided that whoever finds them has to donate them to Dad. Pity eggs.
Hope your weekend's going swell.
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| staring at the sun and listening to shells |
[21 Mar 2008|10:20am] |
This Autumn, it's been all about dining alfresco and food so delicious I want to just hug it (though it has been pointed out that this could get rather messy). A couple weeks back Shell took me to the very last session of the Moonlight cinema and we watched Donnie Darko whilst munching on a picnic she'd packed and every Tuesday at 1pm, Em and I have a standing picnic date at uni. We take turns packing each other lunches and pesto seems to be a recurring theme. Anna's also back in town (hurrah!) and I found her clutching a shoebox filled with things from her latest trips. Exactly this time last year she let me sift through her Thailand journals and photos and this time, she lifted the lid to reveal a box carefully divided into sections, each section holding handfuls of shells. We picked out our favourites (I loved the one that looked like a chocolate...) and spent a great deal of time trying to listen for sea sounds. When we could muster the energy to move in this uncharateristically hot autumn, we went upstairs to listen to her buddy play guitar. He performed barefoot, standing on a persian rug. He covered the Bee Gees in a surprisingly calming way. The guy sitting next to us offered us jubes and bubbles floated by outside.
And so it's ironic that on this Good Friday it's raining for the sister and I had planned a picnic and a trip to the beach. It will just have to be indoors. I think I've been quitely stressed - inspired and encouraged by a lot of things - knowing that it's about to manifest itself is something sometime very soon. Can't wait!
Happy Easter!
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[06 Mar 2008|09:16am] |
Markets, zoos and sample sales quickly dissolved back into reality and Sportsgirl reigned once again. It's the end of my grace week and from next week, life as it will be for the next 13 weeks will resume. Meaning I'm back at uni, my beautiful summer job is over and it's time to work work work - on fun stuff and manage to turn up to class.
On Monday I left the patissier which was very sad for me. And not just because I'll be missing out on the autumn season of cakes (which will include a pancake stack thing and a chocolate bomb filled with peanut butter mousse amongst other things). I'll miss the quiet routine of lining the cakes up, carefully and slowly in the morning. I'll miss collecting coloured macaroons and trying to guess what flavour they are. I'll miss showing up on friends doorsteps with an armful of leftover bread. And reading behind the counter and scribbling in my journal.
It's been a week of closure - the up side of which is a website that I've been working on for a while is now live to the world. It was a Jpeg here and there.. maybe one very sleepless night and here it is! These were the mini docos I helped produce last year when I worked at uni.
The most exciting thing at the moment - is the decision to work on creative projects no matter what. It keeps me sane and happy - which is a very good place to be! I've been having a stack of fun trying to organise the first birthday of the Matchbox project complete with contributors and am taking baby steps towards a fashion zine with a new buddy of mine.
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| sunday and the power of suggestion |
[25 Feb 2008|09:53pm] |
I’ve been emailing this girl in the States these past few weeks, she has the most gorgeous FlickR site where she posts pictures of her illustrated books for girls and most fascinating of all – her outfits. An eclectic mix of op-shop finds and her grandmothers clothes she has a very girl and unique style, and I was asking her a few questions for this fashion article I was working on for Vibewire. She told me that she had just found this 1950s pink dress with giraffes on it, which made her daydream about going to the zoo which instantly reminded me of this equally ridiculous dress I own, a strapless white thing with a repeat parrot pattern and a ruffle or two, picked up several years ago at Kirribilli markets. I’ve only ever worn the dress twice, and both times it made me do some very silly things.
So on Saturday I mentioned to Cass that I wanted to go to the zoo. And on Sunday we went. She picked me up a few hours earlier than our said meeting time and we hit Woolies, determined to pack a picnic lunch for our guests. I had offered to loan her some animal related clothing (a pale pink t-shirt with a horse on it? Or a blue leopard print 1950s day dress with a black bow maybe?) but she politely declined.
We stocked up on chicken, rolls, fresh fruit, honey flavoured tiny-teddy biscuits and juiceboxes before heading home to pack lunches. I insisted on drawing animals on all the bags and when our guests arrived I busied myself asking who wanted the bear lunch? Snake anyone?
We rushed to the zoo, Cass was intent on seeing the seal show at 11.20am but sadly we missed it, because the car park was full and we had to hike there from far far away. That and the fact that the seals were in the process of moving to their new home, had to be trained for a new show and were probably busy packing boxes and things.
A 17-year-old German exchange student lives at Cass’s house and he came along. He made fun of me for cheering every animal, saying cute! repeatedly and clapping. Except for the red panda. It was very disappointing. It was small and looked more like a raccoon. My favourite animal was probably the tiger. It was definitely Sunday at the zoo because most of the animals were sound asleep in the shade.
It’s been an animalistic weekend. The day prior I went to the Lover jumble sale with Angie, Nat and Cass. I haven’t been to a warehouse sale for years because I usually find them overwhelming, sweaty and generally not fun at all but there’s something about Lover that made me get out of bed and join the masses in a Surry Hills suite that was severely lacking in ventilation. I think it’s the oversized buttons, the music-inspired collections and their take on girl that makes me, well love Lover.
Anyway, we arrived as close to 9am as we could muster only to find a long line of predominantly Asian girls. Which, admittedly, Angie and I are, but these girls came in packs. Posses even. Clearly I’m not very good at the warehouse sale game because I had no tactics. ‘So what sizes am I grabbing for you?’ Ang asked as we neared the door, the considerate and expert shopper she is. Inside there was practically nothing on the rails and everything in the arms of the small packs of girls who were hoarding and not sharing. I wandered around wide-eyed before realising the game was more about grabbing and thinking later. Despite this realisation, I still wasn’t very good at it.
Maybe it was a waiting game for cast-offs? Not so, the hoarding girls didn’t just leave clothes around, they tried to bargain with you, eyeballing the items you were holding and casually attempting to initiate a swap. ‘Do you need a bigger size?’ one girl said directly to my black Joplin dress, her arm outstretched with the one she had snatched. Apparently a lot of these items will end up on eBay, which I think isn’t very nice.
I did get a few things, which I am very glad about. It sounds silly but I always wanted something gorgeous from Lover in my wardrobe. There was this one girl in my store the other day who was ecstatic about the new season and grabbing armfuls of clothing. She said that Love My Way was her favourite show and that she’d promised herself that when she had money, she’d buy clothes that looked like things the character Frankie would wear. And apparently we were having a very Frankie season. I could empathise completely – and had similar pipe-dreams about being a girl-writer, wandering around the place talking to people and writing stories, ideally in a super cute Lover smock.
I have two stories due on Tuesday (as well as incredibly nerdy plans to digitise my portfolio...) and so I plan to wear this, even though no one will see me, as I type type type, sitting outside on my deck with everyone at work and a gigantic pink mug of tea.
My summer is coming to an end. Well our collective summer is but this is my last week of holidays. I’m sad but had a very relaxing time.
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[19 Feb 2008|08:27am] |
found a whole box of old note-books the other day. it's ridiculous some of the things I've kept, cut-out and transcribed. I'm really glad I have all of those things.
I've been watching the Lagerfeld Chanel doco that came free with Vogue this month. It makes for very interesting viewing. The man is strange. And far too aware of himself as a persona. He talks about himself like he's not there.
Still matchboxing!
After my matchbox related meeting today (not feeling too great about this one..) I'm going op shopping in Surry Hills YAY! Without the weekend crowds. Have a lovely Tuesday.
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| sometimes things don’t always turn out how you’d planned (squish) |
[16 Feb 2008|09:10pm] |
Nicky wanted to visit my cake store, all my gushing about it had made her curious. ‘Wow, it really is a corridor,’ she said as we squeezed our way in late Friday afternoon. She had been in the middle of a very dramatic story but was suddenly silent as she eyeballed the rows of cakes and pastries. She thought everything was beautiful and was keen for advice. She liked custard, and so I ordered a vanilla milliefeuille for her and some fruit sourdough for her mum. My own mother is ecstatic when I return home from work. ‘Oh great! My sourdough has brought my daughter home!!’ she squeals upon hearing the gate.
It had been three days since I’d last worked and a new chocolate had appeared in the window. Fat and log shaped the other countergirl didn’t know what it was. The macaroons too had changed colour – they were now this grey-purple and I hoped they were black sesame. Vanilla, she said, insisting that I try both new items, a kind of on-the-job training thing and into a Perspex bag they went.
Poor Nicky had had a bad week so the only thing to do was to push her gently in the direction of my favourite café, to pick up drinks and picnic rugs and onto the park we went. She was suitably impressed. ‘So this is what you do??’ she squeaked, like it was my occupation or something. But my heart always says cake and a little company never hurts.
It’s been a great week. I had my hair cut alfresco for the first time for free (thanks Lex!), tried this black grass jelly, got given heaps of free stuff from my different jobs and my favourite op shop was having a half price sale. I picked up this awesome circus tent of a shirt, trapeze cut with fat white, yellow and red stripes. Even though I wouldn’t wear it, the sleeve and button details were too crazy to leave behind. I’ve since realised that it’s just Nicky’s thing so I’m going to mail it to her first thing Monday. But best of all, my invoices finally got paid today (I’m a legitimately paid writer!) and so it was straight to the supermarket to stock up on blueberries and expensive yogurt and then onto buy a fat stack of CDs.
So it wasn’t so terrible when I went to retrieve my chocolate bag only to find it supremely squished, with the macaroon actually embedded in the chocolate. It still tasted the same – I figure the chocolate was milk chocolate, coffee and hazelnut. Going to check with the chef on Monday to see if I got it right. I hope there’s a prize.
I'm meeting up with this gallery person on Tuesday to talk about all things matchbox project. Which is very exciting because I think (with the help and creative genius of Shell) that I finally have a strong idea of how it's going to work in an event context. It's going to be a whole lot of fun - even if it doesn't get done at that gallery - it will be done. I think it's what they call a passion-project on Entourage...
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| this is no modern romance |
[13 Feb 2008|09:33pm] |
On Saturday an oversized pink heart appeared in the shopfront window at work, suspended from the ceiling, neon and encrusted with macaroons. The light hearted Christmas display had been replaced by rich red and fuschia satins and perfectly cut-out cardboard hearts in red and white.
Inside, the macaroons themselves (chocolate, rose and raspberry - I wasn't entirely sure and had to do a taste test) were suddenly heartshaped and rows of shiny chocolates appeared in at least six different shapes. I drew a key for the store. Cocoa bean for coconut, the present - this incredible ginger, lime and macadamia concoction, igloo for chili. Big heart meant rose and the smaller heart, raspberry.
At home, a whiney doorbell announced the arrival of a bright red peacock feather, with black speckles and two smaller matching feathers that had been fashioned into rose-like shapes. My brother has been beside himself in anticipation of arrival was more than relieved when I texted him about the delivery. My Dad sat at the computer using word-art to decorate a menu he was making for the special Valentines Day dinner he is organising for the old peoples home. It's going to be a jazz night, he tells me.
And me? I took to making my own Valentines cards, this year not with red cardboard and doileys (which was very two years ago - literally!) but still listening to the Magic Numbers. I altered each message according to the receivers sensitivity to this heart-shaped themed holiday. I read in the paper today that for some it reinforces their perceived inferiority and failure. Which is terrible.
Exactly a year ago, I spent the lead up to Valentines Day wandering around the streets of Seoul, camera in hand, working on this photos essay for the paper I was working at. The highlight was watching this 70 year old Korean man bolt after his wife - who had fled the second she spotted my fat slr. But he was absolutely determined to have his photo taken and took chase, pushing through the crowded subway in an attempt to catch her. She hid behind a bin, quite unsuccessfully but I didn't end up taking their pic. It started snowing on Valentines Day that year as I left the office at 11pm, listening to the Beatles's Michelle and on my way to meet my housemates for drinks.
This year has a lot to live up to.
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[09 Feb 2008|04:19pm] |
The sun came out for (Chinese) New Year’s Eve and I joined the adult family for a mid-morning yum cha. This was a particular novelty as I normally end up sitting on the kids table at extended family dinners – not that there’s anything unfunny about watching the boys have lychee peeling and eating races (and perhaps being the one who started the whole thing…) but it’s nice to have some conversation and not constantly be watching for potential spillages. That said my grandmother is a little hard of hearing and my recollection of my dinner at Carla’s was met with a rather idiosyncratic exclamation – ‘Oh! So you had a blood test!!’ She proceeded to talk at length about green beans – we were all very confused until we realised she meant her green recycling bin.
My family’s not really into superstition but there are some Chinese New Year ones that we do try and observe. Like wearing something fairly new on the day. New Years is always synonymous with bows for me. I distinctly remember being about 8 eight years old and picked up by both of my parents from school of New Years day. With Carla, Derrick and myself squished in the backseat, our parents took us to a department store and said we could have one thing each to wear. Something new for that day. I took forever and ended up selecting this oversized dusty blue bow hair clip. I loved it and wore it only on special occasions before it snapped because my hair got too thick.
And so bows it was this year too. It was a bit of a struggle trying to take a photo of my own outfit. I clearly need to get a boyfriend or learn how to use self-timer. Or take a photo of a reflection. Or try not to be so vain.
I’m meant to be working on a story on Sydney’s Chinatown for a travel magazine and had to find ways to make it look appealing. Mooching around Chinatown trying to take a nice photo was hard and I ended up with many photos of red lanterns, figuring the designer could photoshop it into something passable. Terrible I know. So I did what I knew best, took photos of good looking food. I think I even got a bit of depth of field going - yay for the slightly blurry chilli sauce!
I’ve spent the last few days working – writing, selling cakes, putting clothes on hangers and actively listening to the radio, waiting for this one particular song. Hoping to tape it. So far failing. All the while there has been ample time for thinking, over-thinking and I am truly scared, petrified even, anxious about graduating and maybe not finding a job. Well not just any job but that fabled perfect job. This was incredibly acute last night over dinner, as friends spoke about shopping for houses and settling down and I had absolutely nothing to contribute. It was one of those I’m-about-as-exciting-as-a-chickpea moments and I realised I barely know what I’m doing in the coming week let alone where I want to wake up every day for the rest of my life. And maybe that’s ok. I woke up with a pretty nasty cold and got to leave work early. I'm kinda enjoying all the soup and tea and honey sandwiches while I'm on the mend.
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[06 Feb 2008|04:27pm] |
On Tuesday, my Mum took me on an excursion to Eastwood to visit SuperFresh, home of, well fresh fruit, vegetables, nuts and all the usual suspects. It was more like a barn in both size and layout and I was impressed. I'd tagged along so I might pick up a lemon and some hazelnuts for a cake I was making.
Everything in Eastwood has a Caucasian predecessor. SuperFresh was once a BBC Hardware store, the BBQ restaurant a Maccas and we played in a sizeable variety store that had been a Target in a previous life. We grimaced and laughed incredibly hard at the oversized faux mounted eagle heads, which must have been made out of some kind of plaster and she wantered off as I fussed over kitsch wrapping paper to decorate cakeboxes with. Her shoes made this incredibly distinctive high-pitched squeaking noise which made her easy to find in the never ending maze of useless things.
She was less than patient when I wandered to the nearby op shop and even less than impressed when I returned with yet another 'dead-persons' dress. I apologised half-heartedly - the print was so cute!
I've been re-reading Haruki Murakami's 'Norweigan Wood' these past few days and loving the frequent and evocative descriptions of the main character's meals. I know that my writing sometimes mimics whatever I am reading but I never thought my eating patterns would too. When we got home I fixed us big plates of stir-fried vegetables with noodles and a creamed-corn omlette to share. I told her next week I might try my hand at Japanese cooking, starting with Bento boxes. She just laughed. I was joking right?
I went over to Carla's for dinner and she cooked curried fried rice with huge chunks of lup-chung - my favourite. I brought her a cake (a lemon syrup hazelnut cake I had baked earlier - ha! I sound like a cooking show) in a prototype box I had made and a stash of other things. Like her favourite black skirt that had magically appeared in my wardrobe and a bunch of socks - all striped and none of which matched. She was ecstatic, she was sure she had their pairs.
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| Sunday was fun but it’s back to work on the 6.30am bus tomorrow |
[03 Feb 2008|09:33pm] |
8.28 am – made the bus with 30 seconds to spare. Rainy Sundays are delightfully cliché and I don’t mind skipping a sleep-in if I’m eating breakfast out. For once I didn’t get pancakes or eggs benedict and instead breakfasted on this delicious European style breakfast plate which was just my thing. Cold meats, a hard-boiled egg, cheeses and dips, tangy slices of beer bread.
Michelle, her friends Jay-Dee and Helen and I made for a happy breakfast party. We were getting ready for Michelle’s third and final day at the Hope St markets down the road. And, despite a mild case of anxiety earlier on in the week, she did superbly. Her vintage scrabble pendants and brooches were a hit (and even got featured in the Good Weekend – one for the scrapbook!) and I loved watching people going through her tiny badges and stickers. Watching people select scrabble letters was intriguing. I imagined what peoples names were when they bought them (the girl who bought an E was surely an Ellen) and I thought it was super cute that my brother and his gf got their respective initials and traded.
Earlier on in the week I helped out in Michelle’s studio, which was a riot of inspiration and good-looking things. One of my most favourite things about Shell is that she is a keen appreciator. She not only notices things but documents them and then makes them into beautiful re-usable things. So Thursday, I had a great time hanging out in her creative space, eating cake, drinking coffee, chatting and listening to music all whilst sewing, cutting and folding stuff for her to take to market.
Back at Hope st, Frankie had a cake pet stall which was slow to open but Jay-Dee was quick to spot a lady cradling what looked suspiciously like a patty pan. A quick is-it-or-isn’t-it? debate ended with Jay-Dee making a bee-line for the stall and returning with sweet sweet goodies. What is a weekend without a cupcake??
And brown paper packages?
I went home with Shelbyville paraphernalia along with some fairly ridiculous but completely necessary purchases. Like an oversized cream silk flower pin for my hair, which I intend to wear daily. And a navy bonnet of a hat, ready for those sleepy bus rides home from the city when uni starts up again.
It was still raining by the time I left and I took shelter in the Dymocks super-store as I waited for the hourly bus to take me home. The experience would have been all the more romantic (I picked up my first Virginia Woolf book and some Bach sheet music, determined to get back into the piano this week…) if the counter-girl hadn’t been chewing gum so enthusiastically and being generally surly as she chucked my purchases into a bag. Yay for Chinese New Year funds!
There was a perspex box of freshly baked scones sitting on the dining table when I got home at 5pm, slightly delirious, very starving and borderline evil. It even had multiple gold and burgundy ribbons tied around it. Carla and Geoff were over and she made scones! Yay! As I scraped the last drops of raspberry jam onto the little fluffy creature she appeared and placed a box of freshly whipped cream on the counter.
And then it 6.30 and Rines was sitting outside ready to pick me up for dinner. We ate big fat bowls of creamy pasta (what did I feel like eating? She had asked as I got in the car. Gnocchi I replied straight-away and she laughed, having meant a general cuisine. But she was happy to go along with my very specific craving) followed by huge cups of tea and hot chocolate. It was great to spend time with Rines, she’s incredibly optimistic whilst maintaining a sense of reality. Although she was convinced we wouldn’t get booked that night, because she left a note for the Ranger.
And so it's back to work tomorrow - it's been nearly 2 weeks since I worked at the cake store and I'm looking forward to reading books again behind the counter and pastries. I hope it's still raining!
S
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[01 Feb 2008|09:10am] |
even though the long weekend didn't officially affect me (as a general slacker/casual worker person), I chose to participate in it anyway. And why not? There were drinks to be had, ice-creams to be eaten and TV that desperately needed to be watched. I even spent time with my family.
Starting the week with Tuesday rocked. I wish Monday didn't exist. I woke up realising that it was Good Living day (which I still look forward to even if the GL is a bit boring these days) and that my favourite trashy TV show was on that night. And all I had planned was to finish my book, cook dinner and watch a DVD.
I'd also promised to take the little boy (who grows rapidly, possibly daily and is nearly as tall as me) to the sushi train and then for ice-cream. It was the last day of his school holidays and he needed to do something other than sharpen, line up and count his new HB pencils.
So excited was he that he tried, somewhat unsuccessfully, to burst into my room at 8am. He asked whether he should bring money along (of course not!) and checked the bus time table repeatedly. By 10am we had already agreed that mint choc-chip was the best ice-cream flavour ever. He waited patiently as I went for a run and greeted me upon my return at the front door, clutching a massive glass of water with 3 heart-shaped icecubes floating up top. 'Have you sweated excessively?' he asked, 'Are you incredibly hungry now??' It was 11am.
He needed to be constantly reminded that it was impolite to press his nose right up against the perspex lids of sushi as it glided by. He picked out my favourites but required strong recommendations when selecting his own. I declared that everything was chicken, only about 1/4 actually was but so long as it wasn't sashimi he was happy. The poor boy had a bit of a food poisoning incident the week prior and was petrified of uncooked anything. He mentioned diahorrea frequently, like any 11 year old boy would.
He ate an adult sized ice-cream and I opted for the kids version. Our roles had reversed not just in our ice-creams but in the selection process. Paralysed with indecision at the counter, I flitted between my childhood staple of Spotty Dog (chocolate and vanilla ice-cream with choc chips! It's like a cousin of the Choc-Vanilla surprise pancakes at the Rocks!), cool bananas, chocolate brownie and mint-choc chip. 'Get Cool bananas,' he said matter-of-factly, 'You've been talking about it for the last two hours.'
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| sunday night - labradors and louboutins* |
[28 Jan 2008|11:33am] |
There was a cocktail party on Sunday, hosted by Angie and Nat who somehow manage to throw these amazing parties where everyone dresses up and there's an abundance of delicious food. Their Halloween party is still fairly notorious a good three years later, owing to a very delicious butter cake in the shape of a pumpkin, tree-house shenanigans and early morning sprints down the street.
But this Sunday we were pretending to be grown-ups, well most of my friends are now, with full-time jobs, cars and talk of investment property. Ang was house-sitting a very beautiful house in Drummoyne, which had a very Gatsby sensibility about it, all bright and airy and white - even the bathroom door handle was this faux crystal thing. We helped her prepare the food, figs wrapped in proscuitto, basil, boccocini and tomato skewers and breads covered in goats cheese, honey and walnuts. Nat grumbled as we requested more and more serving platters, didn't we know that if he reached up that high his perfect white shirt might come untucked??
And so we cocktailed, James made us everything from pina coladas to mojitos, toblerones and cosmos before collapsing on the couch and falling asleep. From then on the drinks got greener and a lot stronger, possibly tackier with the discovery of coloured cocktail umbrellas (which I loved).
I felt sorry for Buck the dog. He was nice enough - he didn't bark or jump on anyone and the poor thing had to deal with 30 strangers descending on his turf. Plus Nat yelling at him to go back to his kennel when he just wanted to dance.
I was super excited about wearing my new black dress, a shiny copy of the Galaxy dress which I had found earlier in the week at Vinnies. They were having a 25% off sale so I got it for $6! Yay! So happy Australia day, whatever that entails. I had spent actual Australia day with my other me, my star sister Lex. We joke that whenever we hang out, we do exactly what we would be doing alone, only we have a companion. If that makes any sense. So Saturday day, she made us these wholemeal blueberry pancakes for breakfast (and the queen of condiments laid out honey, apricot and blueberry jams, maple syrup and yoghurt - so every mouthful could be different if you wanted it so) and I kept her company as she painted. Later we would make chocolate chip cookies with sultanas and hazelnuts (and these very cute oversized choc chips that I fell in love with and kept chatting to..) and a blueberry breakfast loaf. As I left she packed me a party bag and so Saturday became Sunday afternoon tea.
It's Nicky's birthday today! And I need to find a party hat for her before I leave... I love knowing that she'll actually wear it, despite being in a public place.
* I'm sad that my photos all turned out so blurry - but it was a cocktail party after all.
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[25 Jan 2008|05:58pm] |
As we filed off the bus, past a barbed wire fence and into a cold and grey warehouse Meg speculated out loud that we may have just been duped into paying our own way into some kind of yuppie genocide. And how ironic. I laughed because it was entirely plausible. It was nearly 9pm and we had each paid $30 (the non-student adult people around us $40), travelled out to Bankstown (which is, with the exception of Cabramatta, the closest Sydney will probably have to a Brooklyn) and boarded buses which were to take us to a secret location. We had been promised entertainment, albeit a provocative kind, in the form of a play.
Nicky declared afterwards that the journey had been worthwhile if not for the set itself. Inside the grey warehouse, a life-sized service station had been replicated. It looked so real that Meg very nearly walked up to the counter to buy lollies and nuts. Cars drove in and out of the set and the play was one of those non-linear kind, which I usually struggle with. There were times when multiple interactions were happening and I wasn't sure where to look... the cat perched right by the neon OPEN sign was always a good alternative, especially because it featured several very graphic rape scenes.
As we walked back to the car, a little stunned and very tired, we couldn't help but laugh at what must be one of the features of Bankstown city center. The arch of Mariah. Between Old Town Plaza and the Bankstown Sports Center there are these two elaborate archways - with bright murals painted on either side and fairy lights that come on after dark. They play Mariah Carey music incredibly loudly in these arches, presumably not to entertain or delight, but to prevent bored teenagers from skulking around in them. Genius.
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| some days are just better looking than others |
[24 Jan 2008|02:55pm] |
and i thought serendipity was the name of an ice-cream company/b-grade movie.
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| nothing says homecoming quite like pie |
[15 Jan 2008|08:59am] |
It rained the day Carla and Geoff came home, which was great cos I had my heart set on making a wholemeal peach and apple pie for dessert.
I woke up at 6am in preparation. There was much to do this day before the pie baking even begun, starting with the dreaded room cleaning. A couple years worth of not putting things away (at all) and a genetic tendency towards hoarding really builds up. In the process of going through the junk shoved under my bed I realised that I was in grave danger of keeping every single birthday card I have ever received and every school note ever written. In 4Mc handwriting and with a fresh pen-licence I found a note that read 'Pedro Alvares Cabrul is credited as being the first European to reach Brazil in the year_____'
Four hours, six garbage bags and packing boxes later I could see the floor again and what a relief. As I returned a few books to Carla's room I spied this on her bed, lying on top of her now redundant wedding dress. So funny even if it is 'To Kill A Mocking Bird'.
Ironically I rushed off like a mad woman so I could get to work early enough to try out the new tea lounge I had spied the day before. I even ran for the bus. And boy was it worth it. A girl with a bright pink hibiscus in her hair greeted me enthusiastically as I eyeballed the piles of macaroons and tiny cakes in the display cabinet. Proof that there is such thing as too much cake, I settled on a tasting plate of sandwiches and a pot of tea. It absolutely beat the pants off the usual Starbucks coffee to go. Sinking into an oversized red velvet lounge chair, my chin nearly hit the table and I got this Alice in Wonderland feeling. It was great. The only anomaly was the tiny beaker of milk that arrived with my teapot. It was very cute but it made me think of Year 10 Science, definitely not in a good way. Still, I think I have a new favourite local cafe (actually I've never had one of these before) and writing spot.
And so I left the dim den-like setting for the bright lights of Sportsgirl, where the music is loud and the clothes change every 4-6 weeks. What once was Frocktober is now apparently Foho and we've traded fuschia silk dresses for burnt orange and indigo cotton smocks and leather headbands.
I couldn't wait to get home and start cooking dinner for the family and newlyweds. As loyal as I am to a Bills cookbook, my 'Apples for Jam' book is on a roll at the moment. So there was a pancetta covered meatloaf surrounded by a riot of rosemary and sage flavoured vegies. And in between courses, Carla loaded her photos onto the computer and we all gathered round for a wedding and honeymoon slide-show. It was really not as boring as it sounds, my sister takes hilarious photographs.
And then there was pie.
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| learning to play nice... milk & honey on wednesday afternoon |
[10 Jan 2008|01:27pm] |
I remember reading in some hideously outdated etiquette guide, that when you have invited friends over, the host should ideally be doing something homely when they arrive. Well there are limits to the level of domesticity - I mean no one wants to happen on their host cleaning the toilet (plus we all know the toilet fairies do that!). So something like icing a cake is ideal. But in the summertime, when room temperature is bound to melt lemon butter icing and people are already feeling very full from the holiday season - icing sugar and freshly picked flowers suffice.
And so we have honey cake ('I baked you a honey cake!', 'It's like the Beatles song,' she said, 'But not a pie'), served with Jalna bush honey yoghurt (the container looks like something Winnie the Pooh would carry). And milk. Later on in the evening after the made-up pudding recipe failed (overconfidence resulted in a pale brown coloured lumpy soup) - we ate apple pie with mugs of milk and honey on hand.
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| just a little bit married |
[06 Jan 2008|07:09am] |
The night before my only sister got married, we sat down to watch ‘Father of the Bride’ together, one of my favourite movies of all time. What better way to calm the nerves than to laugh at Franc, the ‘cak’ and the 80s eyebrows of Annie Banks. Sitting side by side, the bride-to-be and her maid, we painted our nails and tried our best not to be overly sentimental. We both quietly stressed about walking down the aisle, literally, after an abysmal rehearsal on Thursday night. I wobbled between steps and missed me cue repeatedly. Only instead of walking down the aisle, I would just turn around and look shocked. 'WALK!' my sister would say and my Dad would have to give me a little push. But these things are scary. By Friday, I contemplated taking my discman and heels downstairs for a little practice I was that nervous. Our movie vieweing got interrupted as we got called back to the church to practice just one more time. With my Dad continually walking into the doorframe (and consequently getting he and my sister stuck for a bit) and a maid of honour who practically ran down the aisle, the movie had to wait.
And to use cliches, the big day went superbly and without a hitch. Well except for the part when I got locked in the bathroom at the hairdressers but that was kind of funny. We were running very early and after the photographer took photos of us doing absolutely everything at home (she said were a very animated bridal family - she clearly has never seen our Christmas photos), I had time to get changed back into my pjs and mooch around for a few hours. Carla and I just had so much fun the entire day!
Except for when she was just about to walk down the aisle. Then she freaked out. She said she'd never been drunk before but this is what she imagined it would be like. She was shaking uncontrollably at one point and gripping my hand so hard. 'I love you!' she said to me and my Dad as we waited in the foyer, immediately followed by 'I think I'm going to faint!' I told her we loved her too, to remember to breathe and to try not to flap. And that of course she wasn't going to faint (at this stage, I wasn't entirely unconvinced that this could happen but the maid of honour has to lie sometimes...) The moment she saw Geoff she was fine. In tears. It was great.
Being in the bridal party was great fun - we snacked in the car, had a picnic by the water and just messed around a great deal. We convinced the photographers to let us do jumping airbourne shots, cheesy indie band style pics and did smile sensibly for the occasional shot. By the time we reached the reception and touched up our make up for what felt like the hundreth time I had the thought that tomorrow I would wake up and be a normal person again and how sad. Whenever something is going supremely well for me I get that funny feeling - of enjoying it but knowing it's going to end.
I missed Derrick a lot on the actual day. He was around of course but not at my table. Or in the car. Or sitting next to me as I was just about to give my speech. 'You didn't see me as you were walking down the aisle,' he said. But I did. He had coached me for two nights straight and as I beamed down the aisles (no wobbling!) I absolutely saw him, standing upright, also beaming and giving me the two thumbs up. He looked dapper in his new suit. 'Your speech was excellent,' he said. I take great comfort in his reassurances.
Zac stole the show a little. Walk dancing around the reception, he was a time keeper and was in his element. 'You're entering the reception in 2 minutes and 24 seconds,' he would boom. 'You have 33 minutes and 21 seconds before you give a speech.' 'They're cutting the cake in 7 minutes.' He gave a bible reading and cried as Carla walked down the aisle. He snatched my bouquet frequently.
As for my parents - my Dad was his usual ham self. Smiling so hard his entirely lower face crinkled up. Strutting to the wedding car on the way to the church he waved at gawking neighbours like he was famous, accepting their congratulations and wishing them well. 'GET IN THE CAR DAD!!!' Carla and I screamed. So cute but so frustrating. He had spent the entire week stressing over his speech. In the final hours he grabbed anyone who passed by the family computer. What did we think of this sentence? My Mum looked absolutely radiant. She kept it together and was surprisingly calm. And she can't wait to get into the chocolates now she's made her appearance in a very fitted blue dress. Which probably explains this...
And so, my sister is a wife and I have a brother-in-law. When we got home from the wedding I fixed Derrick and I sandwiches and we watched the end of Father of the Bride together. When I woke up this morning and saw Carla's door ajar, I realised she was gone.
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| do they have cupcakes in japan?? |
[28 Dec 2007|08:21pm] |
So I had this very ridiculous thought just now about my Japan pipe-dream. Sure there would be sushi but what about cakes and pastries?? Sounds stupid but it would seriously influence my decision.
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