Japanese Story

Because my life is a giddy whirl of social engagements, I need a lot of ethereal frocks, right? I thought not. As my friend Jane said when I fessed up 'But I've never seen you in a dress'.

I went into The City today for a couple of client meetings then lunch with people I used to work with. Unfortunately there was a gap between meetings, and I found myself in Akira's shop in the Strand Arcade.


This dress looks quite different with a cream silk slip under it rather than this floral number. (I tend not to wear that sort of makeup or headwear, either, you may be relieved to know.) And because I am SHORT it is longer on me also. The stuff on the top (see, I know all the design words) are these amazing tiny square wooden sequins in red and cream. Maybe I will photograph them close up. After all, chances of me wearing the damn thing anywhere are slim. But I will get hours of joy from examining the incredible construction ...

Someone had better bloody well have a good party this summer and invite me, or my favourite 'pay per wear' justification will not apply.

The Birds

Hitchcock was right.

I just walked up to my studio from the house, and got swooped by a bloody huge magpie (Australian magpies aren't really magpies at all, of course, they are big scary things). I'm assuming this means that there are some baby birds up in one of our trees, which is all very lovely ... but. Once I'd got into the studio, the damn bird still wasn't happy. It flew to the closest branch and shouted at me (honestly, this bird was shouting), then jumped into the doorway of the studio. At this point I started to imagine it pecking at my eyes or something equally hideous, so I shut the studio door on it.

So now I'm trapped in the studio. Maybe this is a message from the universe, telling me to do some work.

The Brother from Another Planet

My little brother does come from another planet - Planet Tall. And he likes to show off. Here he is on the night of Muppet's birthday, a nephling on each shoulder. (Nephling is his gender neutral word for niece/nephew.)


Can you tell that Phoebe was happy? We had pasta and gelato for dinner; in Phoebe's case, mostly gelato. That's what birthdays are for.

The Truth About Cats and Dogs

We still only have one of each. Phoebe got a little overwhelmed and we left the Cat Protection Society sans kitten. Of course, once we got home, she decided she wanted the ginger & white one (that Holden and I had already taken a shine to). We are going back on Wednesday for her to meet some more kittens and decide if she wants one.

Run Fatboy Run

Last Sunday I hauled myself out of bed at 6.30am to watch Andrew run past our street (well, close enough) in the Half Marathon. I almost didn't make it. He saw me before I saw him and all I managed was these happy snaps. Is it just me, or is it unnatural to look this cheerful when you're running 21km before breakfast?

Hol did the 9km Bridge Run the same morning and was 8th in his age category.

Freaks, the pair of them. Phoebe stayed in bed like the sensible girl she is.

Reservoir Dogs

So there's this blog-person who does AMAZING things with baking. I shamelessly stole her idea from here. But because I am not equipped with a) patience, b) time or c) fancy stuff like food writing pens and special candy melts and mini M&Ms, my versions turned out rather more, um, rustic? Or, as Phoebe would say, 'wonkertated'.

So 24 of these Wonky Dogs went up to school this morning.

Phoebe opened her stack of presents (mostly DVDs and CDs) in bed (the marital bed, not her bed) and then had breakfast in same bed.

By a stroke of serendipity it is the last day of term and a mufti day, so she went off to school resplendent in a red dress, new knitted cardie, cowboy boots and baseball cap. Must take photo.

At 1pm we (myself and Holden) are picking Phoebe up from school and taking her (drum roll) to choose her new birthday KITTEN! Expect plenty of cheesy photos of said kitten in due course.

Seven

This is what seven looks like for the last time. Tommorrow she will look like eight.

(She's also modelling a cardie I finished, believe it or not, less than two weeks after finishing Andrew's jumper. Can't say the colours go with her school uniform, but then what DOES goes with that ghastly yellow?)

Cheese

Yeah, try finding a movie title with 'cheese' in it that doesn't involve Tom & Jerry. This one is apparently in production, due for release next year.

After (somewhat over)catering for school's 125-year anniversary cocktail party on Friday night, I came home with, you guessed it, lots of cheese. About 2kg of fresh ricotta, in fact. On Saturday night I made a ricotta and asparagus tart. Then I avoided the ricotta for two days. Today, feeling desperately guilty that I'd have to throw it out if I hadn't used it, and also wishing to create some space in the fridge, I made a sweet baked ricotta. I will be the only person in this house to eat it, of course, but I plan to have it for breakfast every day with raspberry coulis. Because I can. Then I made a few dozen ricotta gnocchi to go in the freezer. And tonight Andrew and I will eat pasta stirred through with ricotta, smoked salmon and peas (I forgot to get broad beans, which was what I really fancied). The smoked salmon was also left over, but it's not exactly difficult to get rid of ...

Ben Hur

As in bigger than. Planning Phoebe's party, I sensibly took into account: 1. That it's on a long weekend; and 2. some of the invitees are children with allergies (whose parents might be expected not to let them out of their sight).

Serves me right for thinking I'm clever, doesn't it? THREE of the invitees are bringing Mum, Dad AND junior sibling. I booked for 15 - we now have 26. As Phoebe herself rightly pointed out 'It's not really MY party anymore, is it?'. Sigh.

So, let's look on the bright side. It means everyone thinks camping is a swell idea. It means I don't have to take any responsbility for the children who've brought their own entourage. It probably also means that the entire birthday cake will get eaten, for once (barring allergic children, OF COURSE).

Truly, I am trying to regain my enthusiasm for the whole concept.

Factory Girl

It's been one of those ridiculously busy weekends. On Friday night an old friend of Andrew's who lives in Europe was in town, so we went down to the Rowers for an early dinner, and then Andrew and Hendrik kicked on, while the kids and I watched telly and got a reasonably early night.

Just as well, because Phoebe's baseball game started at 8am Saturday, so we were down at the Oval at 7.45 ... I am happy to report that Phoebe was first batter up and managed to get home!

Then there was Phoebe's audition for the National Institute of Youth Performing Arts, which was a bizarre experience. On the way back we were sucked in by the warm weather and had to buy some plants, so we spent some time gardening. We wandered up to school to vote, then I made 125 meatballs while supervising Phoebe and a friend making peppermint creams. Later in the afternoon, a neighbour came over for a glass of champagne (as you do) and then I made my favourite Italian seafood soup for dinner. The boys watched the rugby and I fell asleep ...

Sunday began with baking and cooking bol for someone who currently needs a bit of backup, then we shopped, I helped my brother buy a couch and finally we cranked out the other 500 meatballs ...

A productive but not very relaxing weekend.

How to be a Domestic Goddess

This title does double duty, being not only a snide reference to a certain recipe appearing in the school cookbook (which apparently required the person who obtained it to attend 'luncheons'), but also to my upcoming gig as a 'homecook hero' (eeewwwww, what a dreadful phrase) in the glossy mag of a certain shopping centre. Hilariously enough, I have to cook chilli crab and allow my photo to be taken (and published). No, I'm not doing it for the fame, I'm doing it for the free food.

Lord, if only I had the bosom to match.

The Swiss Family Robinson

So I finally managed to do Phoebe's birthday party invitations, in between editing and laying out the school's 125th anniversary cookbook, the usual domestic drudgery and that funny old thing called WORK.

But I can't seem to take a decent photo of them.

We took them up to school this morning, where they had to be carefully handed to parents so that those children who aren't invited (which is most) won't get upset.

The Year of Living Dangerously

As the papers say, it's been a bloodbath in NSW politics over the weekend. And of course it's not just the ministers who lose their jobs, it's their staff as well. Bye bye Andrew's job. Not the best possible Fathers Day ...

Sweet Bird of Youth

A close friend of mine is expecting a baby any day now. Someone else I know is dying. For all our art and technology, that's it, isn't it?

T, who is now in a hospice, is not someone I am close to personally. But she has been like an adoptive mother to one of my best friends. In fact, in the 15 years I've known her, she's taken in anyone who needs a family. I remember having Thanksgiving dinner at her house once and thinking 'yes, where else would we celebrate Thanksgiving'. She has extraordinary generosity of spirit.

And here's the thing. I want to go and see her and say 'Thank you, I have been lucky to know you'. Can you say that to someone who is dying? I think I would want people to come and say that to me, but how can I know? Didn't Elisabeth Kubler-Ross famously have all these (seminal) theories on dying and then turn to bunkum spirituality when it came to her turn?

Trading Places

I've been feeling slightly miffed because my routine has been changed, but not at my instigation. Due to tedious bureaucratic inflexibilities at The Bank, I can no longer go and use a desk in there two days a week. This is miffing (if you can be miffed, surely something can be miffing?) because 1. I quite like grown-up company a couple of days a week. 2. I like buying books at lunchtime. 3. I get to jam a lot of work into my 8am-4.30pm days (more than a 9-3 school day). 4. It's an excuse to buy articles of clothing that aren't jeans. 5. I like to eat Chinese noodle soup at lunch.

So I've been sulking a bit about being stuck in MY office five days a week (or is that seven?), but I've decided to look on the bright side. 1. Spring has really sprung today, and it's nice to be somewhere where I can see the garden and hear the birds. 2. There is a teachers' stop-work tomorrow so Phoebe can't go to school until 11am and it doesn't matter. 3. I will save money on before school care. 4. I don't have to look at myself in the bathroom mirror at 7am to apply makeup.

The Cable Guy

I don't blog about knitting for two reasons. 1. I am so slack that it takes me months to finish anything, not because I am a slow knitter, but because I lose interest and start doing something else. 2. Lots of other people have fascinating knitblogs on which they somehow manage to knit millions of things and take lovely photos. Yup.

Anyway, I've been knitting this jumper (in black, minus zip) for Andrew since early winter, after a number of false starts. Yesterday being - as he so ungratefully pointed out - the last day of winter, I finally finished it. This was a satisfying conclusion to a wet Sunday, I must say. The weather also took the hint and today it is positively spring-ish.

And no, there are no cables. I want to knit an aran for him, but somehow they look so, um, daggy, even though the knitting itself is beautiful.