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On Saturday I went to the farmers markets and was seduced by rows and rows of pink and purple petunias going for 12 pots for $10. I bought a stack and filled a few planters on the front verandahs. I'm a lazy gardener, but these will only last a season and I think they've going to cheer me up a lot when the weather turns hot. I spent most of the afternoon fixing the front garden tap which broke as soon as I used it to water the flowers. Of course, I didn't take the broken bit with me to the hardware store, so I bought the wrong size replacement, and had to drive back and do it all again. There are no hardware stores in north Canberra anymore, so this was very frustrating. Mind you, there's no substitution for the buzz a bit of DYI gives once it's done.
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Reason I like Best Beloved #1364
Sitting in the dark watching the end of Julie & Julia, where it says (and this is NOT a spoiler):
Julie Powell is now a writer.
Her book was made into a movie.
Best Beloved leaned in and said into my ear:
They should have said Her book was made into half of a movie.
Indeed. BB didn't like the Julie bits of the movie much, but he fell in love with Julia (and her kitchen), so I guess I've got a bit of French eating ahead of me. It's lucky I love butter.
A lot of people laughed at the moment that Julie got her first comment, so I'm guessing there were a few bloggers in the audience.
I liked that movie, but I didn't love it as much as I did Moon. I went into the cinema expecting to spend much of the time with my eyes shut (I'm so bad with suspense) but came out completely exhilarated and energetic. Onya Duncan Jones! I love you as much as I love your father. If you don't know what I'm talking about, go and see the movie.
I'm trying very hard to write up my Common Press experience. I should be finished soon; I'm just trying to do it justice. I'm sure my braincells will kick in soon. I haven't had alcohol since my birthday, but when I stop rushing around, it takes a while to make my brain work again.
1 comment:
I didn't much like the Julie bits either. She was annoying. But I loved Julia. And I wondered: did they choose a really tiny cast of 1950s people so that Merryl Streep looked taller, or is Merryl actually quite tall?
Frankly, I could handle having a pleasantly padded Stanley Tucci tell me watching me cook was the hottest thing he could imagine. I really could.
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