Sorry business

You know that you're heading into Senior Moment territory when you realise, in a wave of cold sweat, that you've not only double-booked yourself, in a way that you just can't rectify, but the people you've stood up ARE YOUR PARENTS. Mind you, if it was a true SM, my parents would be dead or horribly old, but it was close enough.

I have been holding two separate events happily in my mental calendar, not bothering to write either in my iPhone calendar because I was so confident that I was not going to forget them... and I didn't. I just hadn't realised that they were happening at the same time.

So. I'd made a date with Lady Duck to go to the Fred Williams exhibition at the NGA today, because it was her birthday just before mine, and she's been in love with FW forever and forever. I'd bought her the catalogue, and Colonel Duck was going to do something else for a while as we immersed ourselves.

I also enrolled in a screenprinting class this weekend at Megalo with Minigraff, partly to encourage my friend Jezza to come along & use his awesome design skills in a more physical way, and partly because screenprinting fell through the cracks of my printmaking education, and I've always wanted to try it.

It wasn't until I turned up this morning, bang on time (because Mini runs a TIGHT SHIP AND WOE BETIDE ANYONE WHO COMES LATE (unless they've made a cake)), when I thought to myself 'I'm so loving this. Just think, next Sunday I'll be looking at art with mum... or was it this Sunday? Which means it would be... oh shit... TODAY!'. I dashed outside and rang them, and sure enough, I was between a rock and a hard place.

Bugger. Buggery bugger.

They were in Canberra for another reason, which is good, and to his credit, CD took mum to see the show anyway, because if she'd missed it, she'd always regret it. But I feel like a heel. When I rang up tonight to apologise AGAIN, Colonel Duck answered the phone and said to my meek 'hi', 'Who's that? Our daughter? We don't have a daughter anymore...' and then thankfully burst out laughing.

Phew. If it's any consolation, the class was really, really good. Here's what I made:



Balloon Day, © Ampersand Duck 2011

I thought I might do a run on tea-towels later in the year, along with a few other cat designs. I like how well black cats work with screenprinting!


When I got home, the house was empty. The boys have gone to Kyogle for a week to visit our new {cough} great-nephew. I'm cat-sitting and catching up on various things, including sleep. Best holiday ever!

I started with some gardening. They (the boys) gave me a magnolia tree for my birthday, something I've always wanted to have in the garden. We went down to the nursery and I found a variety called:



STAHWAZ!! How could I resist? I've planted it where it will eventually cast shade on the studio in summer, allow sun in winter, and will look stunning in spring. *happy*

The garden is delightful.



I did a tour of the garden with the cats and took some photos.



Check out my dogwood tree!

I've got the rest of the photos as a flickr set, but here's a couple more:







Time to make a simple dinner and watch Mme Ramostwe do her thang. So nice not to have to get all fancypants with the food, etc.

Poo bum

I thought, since I've packed up all our internetty connection thingies* at home, that I'd be able to download some of my documentary snaps at work & show you yesterday's massive bedmaking effort.

But poo bum, no. My work computer has been overhauled since I last worked here (6 months) and all the useful things have been removed, and no software has been updated. All I can use is the internet. I can't even download photos. Sigh. Getting that all fixed will take a lot of time and phone-based earache and energy that I just can't spare right now.

As I type (quicky between chores), Best Beloved and byrd are packing all our furniture into a hired truck and hauling them one kilometre up the road to the new house. I'm best at work, out of the way, we both agreed when we decided, late yesterday, to go ahead with the move even though our dratted house buyers HAVEN'T exchanged yet. We figure, since they have requested permission to move in before Settlement and pay us rent etc, that they are serious and won't fall through.

So. Today, after work, I ride my bike to the new abode! I saw hot air balloons this morning on the way back from driving BB to Fyshwick to pick up the truck. Good-o, I thought: it's a Balloon Day. Excellent omen.

Yesterday our new beds were delivered. We borrowed enough money to buy a couple of new things, like beds and a BBQ (things that are better bought new, not secondhand) and the rest of our purchases will be secondhand, like couches and dining chairs -- Zoe is lending us a lovely cedar dining table that is sculking in the corner of her house, aching to entertain. Colonel and Lady Duck bought us an outdoor table setting as a house gift, bless them. It arrives today too, flatpacked and ready to assemble.

Bumblebee's new bed is a King Single, and only needed its little feet screwed on to the base (which is also a bed in its own right, so the two halves can be pulled apart for sleep-overs). Our bed, however, was delivered flat-packed (apart from the mattress) and needed to be assembled. So that was yesterday's task for me.

I will insert before and after photos here when I can upload them. Suffice to say that there is a special circle in Hell for people who write construct assemblage instruction sheets. All the bits were there, but the instructions were supremely unhelpful, and in fact quite obstructive. I eventually just glanced at it to make sure I wasn't doing anything downright dangerous, and worked it out for myself. I like assembling things; I have friends who ring me up to build their Ikea whatevers etc for them, but I do get very cranky with bad instruction design.

I now have a magnificent (and solid) King Size gas-lift storage bed, fully made up and ready for us to fall into, exhausted, tonight. I feel righteous. The flat-packed outdoor setting will be a lot easier, I'm hoping!

So the cats are nervous, sticking together in worry and not sure whether we're abandoning them, or if we'll be taking them to the vet later or something. I can't wait for them to be prowling around the new rooms. Every window sill is wide enough for them to laze upon! Kitty heaven. As the nice man who came yesterday to install the catflap said: 'you don't find houses like this anymore.'

SQUUEEEEEE!



* I've been the resident amateur IT person at every workplace I've worked since the introduction of the Mac Classic. I put it down to my use of simple and accessible technical vocabulary.

Biggest balloon day EVA

Ok, here I am, lying in bed, writing to you. One small step for those with laptops, one giant step for me. Fun!

It's our pseudo-Christmas morning, and it feels like Christmas day. I was woken early this morning by a loud WOOOSSHHH noise and rushed outside to discover a hot air balloon over our house... talk about Balloon Days!

It's also packing day as we leave tomorrow and I'm determined to take my time and pack the right stuff and remember odd things that I always forget but would make the Woodford experience much more comfortable, like a parasol.

The cats are prowling, time to feed them.

-- Post From My iPhone

Blues song day

There are many different ways to start the day, aren't there? There are two distinct ways among the many that I always take note of:

1. Balloon Days
You wake with no sense of anything special, just a normal day, and on the way to school/work/the shops you see a hot air balloon in the sky. The sight of it is so uplifting (see what I did?), that you just know the day is going to be a good one. This only works if you live in a city that has hot air balloon freaks in it. I suppose the balloon can be substituted by a special bird or car or something personally symbolic.

2. Blues Song days
This name is a bit misleading; it sounds as though the day is going to be miserable and bluesy. But no! It just means that you 'woke up this morning' (classic start to a blues song) knowing that it's a special day, for good or bad or indifferent reasons.

Today I had a Blues Song start to the day. I woke up this morning from a bad weird dream; just before I woke I was sitting in a weird little Datsun-type car, full of honey cornflake biscuits, with bamboo blinds on every window. A lot had happened before that point. I opened my eyes, and couldn't close them again.

Sunday is sleep-in day, sacred in the house, because there's no work, no school, and no markets. I love sleeping in, because all other days I am woken before 6.30am to eat breakfast with an early-waking man. To wake before seven on a day when you don't have to is tragic. So I lay there, thinking, trying not to think, trying to get dozy, but in such a weird wistful mood from the dream that I couldn't remember, I knew I had to just get up and do something meaningful with the day.

I spent an hour sorting out photos on my computer, which has too much stuff on it and not enough free memory to compete with the cat hair stuffing it has acquired over the years. When I got to the images of our Tasmanian holiday, I knew what the day was going to be for: writing the post I'd been meaning to write all year, about reading whilst travelling and how that affects your travel.

So I did.



And now I feel better.

Lest we lose sight of this

Dear RSL,

As much as I respect and honour the efforts and sacrifices made by our soldiers and nurses during the various conflicts our governments have wantonly entered us into, I do wish you'd get your hand off it regarding what is and isn't appropriate on ANZAC Day.

The idea of hot air balloons being offensive to the memory of Our Dead Boys is ripsnortingly absurd. Surely it is a perfect metaphor for the amount of hot air that arises when debating matters of war?

I popped down to the shops today to use an ATM machine and noticed that while many shops were closed, all the cafes and fast food outlets are open. Surely the idea of being able to buy fries with your poppy is more offensive?

And while we're at it, surely the pubs should stay closed. I can't think of anything more offensive to the memory of the Revered Dead than a bunch of people getting completely whacked on such a sacred day, can you? Especially now that the government is clamping down on binge drinking.

I personally think that many things are appropriate on ANZAC Day, since surely being joyously alive and enjoying yourself freely is a fitter tribute to a large amount of people who tragically lost their ability to do so so that we could do so...

Yours respectfully,

Duckie

Balloon days are here again

When I woke up yesterday, I had my full complement of braincells. Today, sadly, not so, thanks to the cocktail party I attended last night. Flung by one of BB's public service mates, there was a bench covered in jugs of exotic and potent liquids of all colours. It made me think of Snape's potions class.

Since I knew no-one, and couldn't partake of much of the acronym-laden conversations about how busy everyone has been since January, I resolved to have one of each cocktail and enjoy myself. I did so, and now can't remember much of the convoluted bus ride home from the outer reaches of Gunghalin to our humble abode in Downer, and I'm amazed at how well I feel today, apart from the urge to drink water every ten minutes and a slight fuzziness which I'm sure is my brain trying to pull its tatty bits together.

I do remember cats. She has four cats, none of whom are related to each other. They were very hot, poor dears, and spent a lot of time flopping just out of arm's reach. We were very hot too, but a lot of crushed ice and alcohol can do wonders for that. I wasn't as bad as the mob who ended up lying on a mat on the front lawn slobbering and moaning as they reeled under the stars, but I was pretty jolly.

And I remember seeing balloons in the sky yesterday morning on the way back from the Farmer's Market. Hot air balloons in the sky in Canberra are a wonderful sign of autumn (although they're usually accompanied by frosty mornings), and always mean that I'm going to have a good day, probably because I feel so uplifted by the sight of them. Maybe I feel good today because the Balloon Day magic worked, and I was protected by all the hot air around me last night :)

Still batching my books, a bit slower today, but getting a respectable pile together. Must put some images up to show you. [Makes mental note to do so, and it goes skipping through the lacy holes in my brain patterns.]

Duck types

Mindless Munkey sent me a nice email today alerting me to the following clip and hoping I liked it:


Via: VideoSift

I do, MM, I do. It's very cute.

Actually, it was mucking around with letters like this (but in the more static form of prints) that led me to the creation of the Ampersand Duck:



I was designing a children's book for the Noma Concours Book Illustration competition, something we were encouraged to do every two years as students in the Graphic Investigations Workshop.

Here's another duck, this time with a balloon:



I printed these (and other things like birds and fish and aliens and circus performers) onto very bright monoprinted backgrounds, so no two prints were the same. Monoprinting is something I love to do, because it makes each print unique. One day I'll have time to play with it again.

Anyhoo, those little ducks stuck in my head, flapping about a bit for a few years until I had to make up a blog name, and then they quacked as loud as they could to be remembered. And here we are.

Thanks for thinking of me, MM. Much appreciated.

I did but see her passing by...

There I was, standing outside my favorite noodle-box restaurant in Dickson, feeling like crap, buying takeaway because it's been a big week and I'm still sick and Best Beloved is coming down with it as well -- another week in hell, guaranteed, gotta hate sick men -- and about to head over to the bottl-o to buy another bottle of whiskey to kill the germs, when a car came past me in the laneway between me and Chucky Fried, and sitting in the passenger seat was the glamorous Miss Fits.

I was pretty sure it was her, having seen her on the ABC an' all, so to test my theory I yelled out 'Miss Fits!' at the car, at which she popped her head out and said 'Yes?!'. 'Ampersand Duck!' I yelled happily back whilst waving, and then ducked away as I am wont to do when I am shy and happy and looking like poo on a plate. I heard her interested squeal as they turned a corner, and it made my night.

Then I came home and checked, and yes, she is meant to be in Canberra tonight. I know she's here for something really exciting that I'd love to witness (but probably not this or this, god Canberra rawks), but I'm too sick to find out what, and I'm leaving town tomorrow for a night so that my parents can throw the birthday party for Bumblebee that I'm too tired to organise.

Snaps to Bernice Balconey, who whipped into town last night and not only took Bumblebee to the movies with her excellent and laconic 10-y-old son but woke up at dawn's crack this morning and took them both to the Canberra Balloon Festival Fiesta and the Castle while I went to school and hard-bound a batch of artist's books without. making. a. single. mistake. Go me. :)

So tonight turned out to be way more exciting than I expected, spotting blog royalty like that. Hooray!