Yesterday I discovered that if you go to the farmers market with a friend you haven't seen for ages, you spend a lot longer shopping than on normal weeks. But it was a lot of fun giving her a conducted tour; at one point I was showing her one stallholder's exquisite gypsy ham and explaining that it was ok to buy a big lump all at once because you could cut it up and freeze chunks, when the woman next to me thanked me for the tip and bought a nice big chunk for herself. Public service in Canberra is so much more than being in KRudd's employ.
It was such a beautiful Autumn weekend, one of those times when it's positively criminal to stay indoors... but I had a book to make, and I've been putting it aside in favour of other tasks for so long that I just had to get in there and do it. Luckily the first stage of making meant that I had to go to the Book Stud at the Art School, and that meant that I could see the trees and the sky from its wonderful large windows, and even in the inking slab.
I was making monoprints. I was making monoprints all weekend, editions of them, which is a strange thing do really. I talk more about it here, and I also explain why I'm editioning them. However, right here, right now I've got other things to share before dragging myself off to bed.
I love working at the art school, for many reasons, not in the least that strange things happen at random times. On Wednesday, I looked out of the window and saw the usual view down to the Sculpture workshop:
Except... except. Something was different, and I went down to investigate further. This is what I found, instead of the usual OH&S signage:
Installation piece? Protest? Prank? I have no idea. It had a companion piece:
All I know is that the next day, they weren't there.
Anyhoo, last night I cooked a stupendous yummy:
This is my pasta sauce just before I poured it onto hot spiral pasta: home-smoked chicken (BB's latest craze is home smoking), mushrooms, Russian garlic, leeks, baby spinach, white wine and thick cream (cleaning out the fridge, normally we'd have used plain yoghurt). It was sooooo nice that I thought I should share the thought of it with you.
Anyhoo anyhoo, as I rode my bike home from the art school in the dark tonight (without a front light! Naughty! Note to self: batteries for bike light. My back red flashy thing still works fine), the thermometer outside the ABC showed that it was my all-time favorite temperature: 13 degrees. Cold enough to need a jumper or jacket but not cold enough to make your teeth chatter or to need gloves on the hands. Lovely. Ah, Autumn, how I love thee so.
BB bought the first series of Six Feet Underground while he was in Melbourne, so we started watching it. I'm such a late starter on everything, it means that when I want to rave about something, everyone else is just so over it. Sigh. Luckily I don't care too much, it's still pretty fun.
What about the hipster daleks on Dr Who tonight? Bumblebee went nuts, was so excited, and all I could think was how clever they were to produce 5 or 6 separate collectibles rather than one. How can I get mistily excited about a tree in my front yard that drops its golden-yellow leaves to reveal the nattiest little brown baskets full of black berries, and yet feel so cynical towards a bit of redesigned cult product?
I'll ponder this in bed. Might get me to sleep faster.