Daily life begins

Phew, what a week that was!

I've just written my website account of Impact7, here's where I get to be extra-curricular.

I'm sitting in my studio with the far-side rollerdoor up, waiting for my new (old) wooden map drawers to be delivered. They were supposed to come yesterday, then 10:30 today, then 12:00 today... hopefully soon, anyway. I can't do any print work until they come, because all the flat spaces are covered in the stuff that was in my metal map drawers and they're being taken away for sale at the same time. So I'm catching up on my online writing in the meantime.

It's the first day of my new life, the one where I'm only working at the uni one day a week, and the rest of the week is for my studio. A bit scary, and I'm not sure how it will go financially, but for a short time I have the pay from my recent primary school residency and that should keep me going for a little while once I stop fitting out the studio!



Here's Padge, sitting in the shadows of my new/old double glass doors; they're ready to be installed by my friend Mark in front of the existing rollerdoors so that I can have light and air and not wind and leaves.

AH! Finally, at 1:15, the cabinets come. Dammit, they put the more solid one on top of the wobbly one; I'll have to do some argy-bargy with them once Best Beloved comes back from his business trip (the next 3 weeks in this house are like revolving doors, with each of us coming in & out and always missing each other!).

Here they are, being carried in by the two roughnuts hired by the auction-house. I observed that the guy at the back might lose a toe if he wasn't careful, and he said 'yeah, I've got me Taiwanese Working Boots on'. Ah, yes, well.

So now I have lots of drawers! Huzzar, watch me fill them up.

And lots of photos of my Melbourne jaunt, over at Flickr.

I had a lovely conference, helped by the fact that a friend had let me stay in her empty Melbourne flat for the week, and it was only one tram and one train stop from the venue.

Here's the best thing that happened to me during the week (closely followed by dinners and lunches with other friends):



Isn't he gorgeous? This is the little bundle of joy belonging to Laura (Lucy Tartan) and Dorian (Arty Fufkin), Leonard. I skipped a session so that I could cuddle him and he drooled all over my hand, and I treasured that drool all afternoon when I got back to the grind. He's a dear old soul,.



Here's his more serious side.

After the conference I stayed on for a couple of days.



This is the closest I got to the Grand Final: cupcakes in a show window. The whole day I was in denial about the football, which I figured was my birthday prerogative, it being my birthday that Saturday (all the fours, 44. I think my years are finally outnumbering my chin hairs). I went to a meeting of the Print Council of Australia, and after the meeting we drove around to a few exhibitions and had lunch at the gorgeous Abbotsford Convent. The city was eerily quiet; the last gallery was close by the MCG and I could hear the crowds and the whistles. At one point we were trying to find a taxi for someone to get to the airport. We found what we thought was a taxi rank, but it turned out to be a row of parked empty cabs outside a pub!

After all that I caught a tram up Nicholson Street and went to Gerald's Bar in North Carlton to meet up with a few blogging types.* The blogcall was: Elsewhere, Another Outspoken Female, Will Type for Food and Lexicon Harlot. Also joining us was an old lovey I'd lost from my past until we discovered each other on Facebook, which surprised the hell out of me (the FB bit, not the meet-up) because he's not a computery type. He happens to be a friend of WTFF Tim, and this fact pleases the hell out of me in a very Douglas Adams probability factor way. He brought his children along, and a good time was mostly had by all, I hope. Pol and the kidlings couldn't stay for dinner; AOF took us to a fab little Asian place down the road (it being her locale) and true to a foodie, the food was excellent. (Phew, you passed that test, G :) )

The next morning (Sunday) I was determined to go to the Camberwell Markets. Lucky that I was so detemined, because it was the daylight savings changeover, and I would normally stay in bed. I forced myself up, got out to the road, and lo, the trams weren't running for another hour. Bugger it, I thought, I'll walk. So I did. It was the first rain-free day for ages, and it was only 2 km.

The reason why I wanted to go so much is because of Michelle de Kretser and The Lost Dog. The markets are something Michelle would talk about both in the book and in her phonecalls to me. It's been years since then, but I got talking to Deborah Williams at the conference (one of her dog prints is on the cover) and that got me thinking about the book, and the markets, and I really wanted to go.

I wasn't disappointed. They are great markets, and I found all sorts of things. I came away with little funky hair clips, a magnifying glass, some postcards (of Canberra in the 1960s!)... yes, lots of LITTLE things that will slip easily into an already overstuffed bag for the plane. And then I found these.



OOOOHHHHHHHHHHHH. I loved the one on the left, mainly for the liquid-paper splatters all over the top ribbon cover. Then I saw that the right-hand one had a lovely hard case. I walked past them, and five minutes later came back. How much for the right-hand one?

$35.

I went all wobbly. It didn't seem dodgy, just didn't have a ribbon, but that's easily fixed (scroll down that link). So I bought it, gentle reader, and lugged it back on the tram to the flat. And then proceeded to rearrange EVERYTHING so that I could carry it in on with me on the plane. Hold that thought.

On the way out of the market, I stopped and talked to one of the stallkeepers about something and noticed his dog, who is obviously a seasoned vet at these markets:



When I found out his name is Gus, I went all wobbly again. You see, Michelle's dog, who was the inspiration for the story, and who is featured on the cover of the book, was called Gus. And that's why I was at the market. Man, some days are just like novels.

I need to stop, only because I've spent most of the day on this computer and my new drawers are calling out to me... but I just wanted to bring you back to my typewriter. I now have 5 typewriters, all with their own charms. This newest one gave me a big surprise when I got home. I opened the lovely hard case, and in the little pocket inside the top lid, was the ribbon, nicely wrapped in a freezer bag, and THE MANUAL AND THE 1984 RECEIPT OF PURCHASE. I am very fond of 1984, it was a year to remember, not always for good reasons. But I do find that most of my significant objects were made or marked for years that have personal significance for me, and I guess this one joins the club. And was a bargain to boot. I haven't seen a working typewriter under $100 for a couple of years now. Yay! Must have been the birthday germs.









*I have to apologise formally to anyone I didn't contact while I was in Melbourne. It was a very intense week, and energy levels fluctuated. I knew it would be so, which is why I issued such a lame blogmeet callout. I also meant to ring people, that didn't happen. I'm back in February, so let's do something then!

As promised, the bed

I feel like International Wimmins Day has rolled right over me, and left me a bit bruised and exhausted. Today I've (in no particular order) packed and unpacked umpteen boxes, taught a class, bought some shoes, helped a load of students and a senior teacher, ridden my bike across town and back, had lunch with my hubbie, talked my son through his homework plans, amused the cats, attended a committee meeting and written the first draft of a second-round project application.

How's that for a full bloody life, eh? Classic over-'extender', dunno about 'achiever'.

For the record, 'buying shoes' was probably the girliest thing there besides lunching the hubbie (he paid, dammit), but the shoes themselves were NOT girlie, and anyone who knew me in the 80s (I think that's only you, Jo, and maybe Steeve, and possibly Lisa, if you read this) will laugh when they see them:



RIPPLE SOLES! I lived in these for at least ten years, then they disappeared off the shelves until this year. The guy in the shop laughed when I told him this, and said he's been trying to source them for years too. The originals ('Rollers', we both said at the same time, thus establishing our cred with each other, which I pretty much destroyed by saying 'SNAP') used to be made in Poland, but these are made in China and don't quite have the 'roll' as you walk that the Polish ones did. But I love them, and my feet are happy.

So. The bed. A gas-lift bed, for those enquiring minds who enquired, is a storage bed wot with you can store your winter/summer doonas or sex toys or whatever you want to store, and it has a gas-lift hydraulic thingy to help you lift the mattress to get to the storage (thank goodness, because we bought a huge mattress. The cats love it).



The bits, fresh from the flat-packed boxes.


The bits to put the bits together.



Me, putting the bits together. This is the abbreviated, censored, soaped-mouth version.


The gas-lift hydraulics, ready for the mattress.


The final bed, with brand-new linen. We keep looking at the old (Queen, so still big) bed on the low ex-futon base and wondering how we fitted into it. In this bed, sometimes in the night I don't even know there's someone else sleeping with me. BLISS.

Speaking of which, I desperately need a hot bath to relax my screaming muscles before I sleep. So ciao, until the next batch of bad iPhone photos or I get the chance to vent. Still no broadband, no tv, no telephone. Just a dongle. Happy IWD, peoples.

Down tools

Wow, it's my first day since the new year started when I haven't had to pack, patch, paint or clean anything. I'm also child-free till tomorrow. I've spent the morning catching up on some work I had to do, and yesterday I sorted my tax, so I'm toying with the idea of going to the movies. Or going back to bed with my Connie Willis novel (I just finished The Domesday Book, am rereading Blackout because All Clear is winging its way from the Book Depository). Tough call.

Apparently our open house sessions on the weekend were a triumph. I can't say for sure, because we had to be out of the way, and Mr Padge just can't seem to articulate clearly enough for me to make out more than FEED ME.

On Saturday there were 21 groups through, more than any other house in the area. At the dot of 10:30am the empty street was suddenly full of cars; they must have been lurking around the corner. We scarpered, and there was no sign of the cats as we left in the opposite direction. As soon as we disappeared, the cats came out and set up begging stations, one in the back yard (Mr Pooter) and one right inside in front of the front door (Mr Padge, of course), so that people had to step over him to enter. Our agent thought this was marvellous, so didn't shove him out of the way. 'A novelty,' she called him. We have other words to describe him when he uses this very familiar blocking technique.

Yesterday, Sunday, the agent expected around 10 groups. We got 12. The weather was gorgeous each morning, turning grey and ploppy later in the day. Lucky us! Padge stationed himself a bit further from the door, wandering in and out with the people, playing host.

Today he's sprawled near the door, looking outside wistfully, wondering who is going to come today for his pats. Thankfully, no-one. He can suffer in his jocks, spoiled puss.

So now it's in the hands of Ceiling Cat. We have another double-day weekend coming up, but anything could happen in the next few days. In the ACT you only have to get one builder's report, and this gets sent, with the contract, to interested parties to consider if they express interest. A much more sensible way of doing things rather than each group having to commission their own report. Whoever buys the house, pays for the report. So far 5 groups have requested the contract & report from our agent, and there have been a few requests for rental evaluations. Fingers crossed!

On Saturday we went looking at beds and furniture, just cruising the shops. I hate shopping, and so does BB, so we ended up quite cranky. We cheered ourselves up with a Hindi movie (I can't say Bollywood, because it was much more arthouse than that, with no dancing or singing, and only 2 hours long as opposed to the usual 3 or 4) called Dhobi Ghat, or Mumbai Diaries. It was great; if you get a chance to see it, it's very beautiful and quite engaging. We followed that with dinner at our favorite South Indian restaurant, Ruchi in Belconnen, where we treated ourselves to a Thali, Best Beloved's favorite way of eating. He had the meaty version and I had the vegetarian, which is excellent albeit a bit too reliant on coconut flavours throughout the dishes.

Yesterday we went to CanCon at EPIC and had a wander around, marvelling at the separate universe that exists to one side of ours. CanCon is the local gamers' conference, and there were three huge rooms: one devoted to board games, one to card games (like Magic, Pokemon etc) and the last to role-playing and figurine-based games (is that the right way to describe Warhammer?). Lots of amazing merchandise and fun people to watch and very funny t-shirts to read. We didn't play anything, but we did buy a few games to bring home.

I'm hoping to get into my studio over the next few days to do something more than just clean up the mess. I have a few workshops coming up, at Belconnen Arts Centre and at Megalo, so if you want to spend a day or so making stuff, come along!

I think the first thing to do is to go for a walk to my postbox. There's something in it, and it just might be the Connie Willis book, which will determine the rest of the day's trajectory.

Muvvers day

Damn, did it again. Every year I buy my mother a present and every year I forget to send it to her, so every year my Mother's Day morning phone call starts with

I'm sorry, I did it again...

Luckily her response is usually along the lines of

That's ok, you know I don't mind!

I heart my mum.

Luckily BB and his mother don't celebrate the day, or that would just be two lots of things to forget!





Myself, I was woken with a menu that offered me sensible choices like

Eggs Benedict (poached eggs with bacon and hollendaise sauce on a bagel and a side serve of rocket)
Eggs Florentine (the same, but without the bacon)
Eggs Cochrane (a family name): rotten eggs nestled on a fly-poo bagel, layered with rancid bacon fat, and served with chocolate ice-magic, with a side serve of cucumber and orange peel.

Banana pancake served with yogurt and maple syrup
Quince pancake served with quince syrup and cinnamon
Snail pancake served with slug slime speckled with wasp droppings

and for beverages

White wine
Twinings Prince of Wales tea
Peppermint tea
Grapefruit fizz
Cup of cold sick

Ahem. I chose Eggs Florentine and a cup of tea.

Now, if you watched Spicks & Specks on Wednesday night, you will not be surprised to hear that I asked my family to buy me a copy of Bat out of Hell on CD for M's Day, to replace my quite-forgotten, once-well-loved and completely played-to-death adolescent cassette.

What did surprise me was my mother's response to my telling her this:

Oh wow -- can you make me a copy??!!

Heh.



We spent the day today driving to Bundanoon (Bumblebee and I roaring along to Meatloaf at top volume while BB concentratedly listened to ABC RN podcasts on his Blackberry with a stiff face) to visit my darling Sasha, who was visiting from Brisbane, and driving slowly back, popping into whatever Antique and secondhand book shop we passed. Then tonight I'm cooking a very slow-cooked Hoggett stew with preserved lemon-stuffed green olives and lemon-roasted potatoes. Yum!

...and it's ready just in time for Dr Who.

I must be getting better...

I bought a bikini today.

I haven't worn one for years.

I bought boy-leg bottoms, a slightly padded bra top, both in black with coral and pink bits, and a hot pink rash shirt. I love modern mix-and-match swimwear.

I haven't the figure for it, but I've decided not to care, since I usually swim where no-one sees me, and it's very comfortable.

I tried a little bit of other, more Christmassy shopping, using my weird shopping trolley that looks like it's been cobbled together from a supermarket trolley and pram wheels. I dressed smartly to offset the dagginess of it, but still had pensioners coming up to me as I was taking my half-hourly panting breaks to ask me where I got it from.

Golly, I'm unfit. I don't think I'll be doing too much dancing at the Woodford Folk Festival! I was supposed to teach workshops at the festival, but I cancelled once I knew my operation date, worried that I wouldn't be up to it. I'm very glad I did now, I don't think I would have managed.

We're leaving home on Sunday, heading north to Brisbane for a while, and then working our way south via family and friends after the festival. I'm more confident about driving now, which is great because I'm a very bad passenger and BB is not a particularly confident nor relaxed driver. And he's going to be doing all the toting and lifting, so I can pull my weight with the driving. I can't believe how fast the last four or so weeks have gone! I see my surgeon tomorrow, I hope he likes what he sees...

I also bought a very nice orange top. I didn't like orange much a few years ago; I've done a complete turn-around about it, as you've probably noticed. Now I love the energy it gives me.

Energy not present now. Time for bed.