tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39756099895781844552024-02-07T18:15:47.869-08:00Ptolemy and meCalliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373387538376990873noreply@blogger.comBlogger25125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3975609989578184455.post-31221384445116116032010-09-07T18:46:00.001-07:002010-09-07T18:54:35.748-07:00My three favourite conversations about the Election1- On election day, at about 4pm in the afternoon.<div><br /></div><div> A- "Man, anything but Abbott, anything but Abbott, I'm moving to Canada if he gets in!"<div><br /></div><div>Me- "So where did you vote before work, cos I need to get somewhere in the next hour?"</div><div><br /></div><div>A-" Uh, I'm not actually on the electoral role. I'm an anarchist, actually. Not many people know that."</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>2- At 3.45 yesterday after the Independents press conference.</div><div><br /></div><div>Me- "Did you hear, Labour got back in? Are you excited?"</div><div><br /></div><div>D-" It doesn't make an iota of difference to me."</div><div><br /></div><div>Me-" How come? You don't vote?"</div><div><br /></div><div>D-" No, because, no one can stop the music."</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>3- Yesterday, during the presser, Windsor has announced and Oakeshott is banging on.</div><div><br /></div><div>Me-" Eeps, Windsor has announced! We're just waiting for Oakeshott now! "</div><div><br /></div><div>R- " Wait, which one is Oakeshott? Is he the hotter one?"</div><div>Pause. </div><div>Me-" Yeah." </div></div>Calliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373387538376990873noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3975609989578184455.post-89695524723620995922010-09-06T04:21:00.000-07:002010-09-06T05:00:04.654-07:00Much tired, Hungry caterpillars and too many needles.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doobybrain.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/03/hungry-caterpillar-cupcake.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 600px; height: 400px;" src="http://www.doobybrain.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/03/hungry-caterpillar-cupcake.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Can I have this now please?</div><div><br /></div><div>Reason number <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">54</span> why I love my life: I spend all day on mondays at work emailing Holly from the Malvern store. We totally pretend it's really work related but it tends to dissolve into me calling her doofus and her writing IN CAPITALS. And the today she only emailed me once so I spent the whole day worrying about her, thinking she may have fallen under her desk and hit her head and was spinning into a fantasy land, in which she is a burlesque star/hired assassin and then she'll come out of her coma in about a hundred years, thinking she's still in 2010. WAKE UP DOOFUS, COME BACK TO THE LIGHT, CONTACT US!</div><div><br /></div><div>Reason number <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">7</span> that I'm not such a fan: I have had about 6 blood tests lately, all for something quite serious and yucky and I really am a bit scared. And this week I get to have three 3!!!! more needles in about three hours. I is so going shopping inbetween. </div><div><br /></div><div>Reason <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">213</span> why I really like the way my life is going: Just when you've spent the last month or so a bit sick and hovering in test land and you're really a bit fragile and not sleeping. You head off to work and someone greets you with a high-five, then you get to hire a life-sized Spot costume for a launch including Paul Kelly and then you get home and lovely peeps are arranging to go see possibly the FILM OF THE CENTURY! </div><div><br /></div><div>Reason <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">1</span> why Reason <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">7</span> of the bad things isn't so bad: I is getting skinny and my Mum keeps buying me sympathy clothes, including hot high-waisted jeans! </div><div><br /></div><div>And also <a href="http://www.jayjays.com.au/products.aspx#/598608/very-hungry-caterpillartee">this</a> which I am going to pur-chase in between the blood-letting on wed. Oh yeah! I am so hot-right-now with the under fives!</div><div><br /></div><div>Yours in health,</div><div>Moi.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>P.S- I'm not infectious and it doesn't have anything to do with toes, so breathe normally now.</div><div>P.P.S- Also on the happy pants list, I am now the primary children's book reviewer for Readings, oo, la la. I have a whole page! Goshity!</div><div><br /></div>Calliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373387538376990873noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3975609989578184455.post-25849972182896399532010-07-22T05:33:00.000-07:002010-07-22T06:28:52.586-07:00In which I moan about moving house and secretly wish for Lego<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.fwi.co.uk/blogs/rural-life/moose-1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 450px; height: 338px;" src="http://www.fwi.co.uk/blogs/rural-life/moose-1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Moose.<div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Moving house is much like childbirth. </div><div style="text-align: center;">(I knowingly proclaim never having given birth to a child or indeed a <a href="http://www.megrosoff.co.uk/books/vamoose/extract/">moose</a>) But I have quite the imagination, to the extent I can no longer watch anything even vaguely frightening or involving Sarah Michelle Geller. So much like I HOPE with childbirth, once you have moved house you completely forget the sheer horror of packing and the sorting and the calling of the utility companies. And then once you have excitedly signed the lease for a new fancy pad, the memories start flooding back in. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Blerg.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I only packed up the dvd's today ( 6 boxes, please don't judge us) and then I had to go and have a nap with the cats as I was so devastated by how hideous the process is. Unfortunately I napped right through dinner cooking time, so then my boy had to take me out to dinner which involved naan (my favorite kind of dinner) and then I had to be bought ice cream as I had eaten too much dinner (perverted logic I know) </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Its all been quite a rude awakening from the delightful mandarin scented cocoon of holiday world I was in up until four days ago. Work and packing? Eeps, sounds far too much like real life for my liking. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">So instead of focusing on the reality of the situation ( you thought I had some DVD's, you should see the sheer volume of books) I am going to pretend I'm moving into a house made of Lego, because I'd quite like that.</div><div style="text-align: center;">(I do quite like our new flat but not quite as much as I like Lego)</div><div style="text-align: center;">I also heard a rumour that there is a huge toy sale on somewhere in the capitalist ether and perhaps instead of using my money on, oh, useful things like bills and moving costs, I best just buy some Lego.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">If you hadn't noticed this post is quite nonsense but <a href="http://cricketdiane.files.wordpress.com/2009/08/z2008-2009-231.jpg">look</a>! <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(85, 26, 139); text-decoration: underline;"><a href="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/40/80619546_4faacaaba2.jpg">Houses</a></span> <a href="http://blog.lafraise.com/en/wp-content/uploads/2009/09/james-may-lego-house-01_rect540.jpg">made</a> of <a href="http://dreemzology.files.wordpress.com/2010/02/james_may_lego_house_demolish.jpg">Lego</a>. Much more interesting that thinking about <a href="http://montanaonthemarket.com/_old/images/med/small07.jpg">packing</a></div><div style="text-align: center;">(That last house, not Lego, but I would live there if necessary, although I might have to take up cooking children in the oven)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Calliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373387538376990873noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3975609989578184455.post-66638847933159742962010-06-30T03:24:00.000-07:002010-06-30T04:04:29.264-07:00Holidays<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2-bYu1T0JZkj_wQgWOUTr2lGqJjkGPoNfvUoAX44zU9dFsqmENVXGVX2UVgS_k8Yug9-qOYzbcR-3B4Ei_wcDLN9Fnfc33KxmL9haaqcdYdCZUCRi_4LSUHGVPTS9Xa_Vv1h1wnc2FmE/s1600/photo-1.jpg"><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 200px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2-bYu1T0JZkj_wQgWOUTr2lGqJjkGPoNfvUoAX44zU9dFsqmENVXGVX2UVgS_k8Yug9-qOYzbcR-3B4Ei_wcDLN9Fnfc33KxmL9haaqcdYdCZUCRi_4LSUHGVPTS9Xa_Vv1h1wnc2FmE/s200/photo-1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488512883618830306" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Shall I tell you about my holidays? I don't want to make you feel sad but I'm very excited for MANY MANY reasons. Reason 1 is that I am on holidays, reason 2 is that my workplace is under renovation and its horrid (no heating, ugh), reason 3 is somewhere between needing a good nap and sheer bewildering fatigue.<div><br /></div><div>But you needn't be too jealous, I'm not off to Morocco or London or even... Perth. No, no, I'm having a holiday just around the corner and in my local cinema and at that new restaurant on Victoria St and at my Parent's house and for most of the time, on my couch. </div><div><br /></div><div>Yesterday I went to a bookshop and ate mandarins, the day before I went shopping and bought seasons 2 AND 3 of Mad Men. Today I went to another bookshop and bought a cardigan, then I bought some special chocolates and ate most of them. Sunday was the official first day of the holiday and I went for a one and half hour walk to the Botanical Gardens. (That was the exercise allotment for the holiday) </div><div><br /></div><div>Tomorrow I'm having lunch with my boyfriends brother and his wife and son and semi-son (stillcooking) and my boyfriends sister and her husband at the very specific time of 12.30, where we shall have a strangely large amount of time before going to see Karate Kid. My semi-demi nephew chose this, being 9 and VERY interested in kicking and as I once accidently, ACCIDENTLY, smashed his head into a glass ice cream case, I have to do anything he tells me or else he brings up the INCIDENT and everyone laughs at me for hours. </div><div><br /></div><div>What else am I doing? I'm off to the zoo and to see Shrek and read a lot of books. I'm going to go to the farmers market and drink cocktails. I'm going to Bendigo to one set of parents and Samaria to house sit for the others. I'm going to sleep for extended periods of time and figure out what I want to study next year. The final days of my holiday will be at 50 year old's party and I will be dancing like a crazy lady and I MAY even drink rum and cokes, cos I haven't ever done that before. </div><div><br /></div><div>I will also, in no particular order, write a children's book, have a business meeting with the awesomest gal called Holly, throw out half of the shitty furniture that clutters my house, make two skirts, get my friend to fix two skirts I just made, drink cider, pash my boy, cook brownies and go to work for one day because I am irreplaceable. Gosh, I am busy on these holidays. </div><div><br /></div><div>Did you want to know all that? I'm sorry if you didn't but here's some </div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3ktWKjMhLG4jLcYZgieISNOiG8Pf8_uzT59ucMV1R7QYMESIojECIRck9-FFe5P8Dnc9nYmpKGs5705_oK3FY4BFQ4YAEKYojHPtFX3atl132DCLYIGUxmZKUVJZN_3JUvTXOd97iFcM/s200/photo-2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488518798469985810" />photos of my cats if they were hipsters to make you feel better. Yes. <div>This is Ally, she likes to wake me up by climbing on my tummy.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHy3IkiFhbrmeNxdDAdmB1yAbAO3ZFlbABYlSadlr9yUj8JS77bAtN4hk7ii5-99qJbMtdgD3vjZaGh8wf2itAx8i30guZ-x_L2rmKv2hSI6DVVbZVdfrthUvkSqioJ4CnRMefeZ3ziQs/s200/photo.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488519230085247746" /></div><div>And this is Ptolemy, she is the other half of the 'and me'. She is such a hipster kitty she is too cool for photography and she is quietly angry with all of us. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I hope you are on holidays too or if not, you can share mine. Can you sew at all?</div><div><br /></div>Calliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373387538376990873noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3975609989578184455.post-28063796390047335182010-06-23T19:24:00.000-07:002010-06-23T19:28:30.621-07:00Yes, it is true.<div style="text-align: center;">If you couldn't tell, I kinda like this lady and I like it when the world changes and I like today. There is so much time tomorrow to be cynical and suspicious and face reality but today I get to like the world and its shiny red-haired people.</div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTBzGqI5Ryei3ZWUFmRqEsA59iJouzYWAlEr6xjNX4fTbmRd5k5y1vNBac3emELNxSMbZ9Bp_R_v3veAaJeQNdYV0-gmFi3lsC-PcNyFKrloj5BKnB5GhfD8KPQ-wCBvemw3xcvwMJ5ic/s1600/980037-julia-gillard.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 195px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTBzGqI5Ryei3ZWUFmRqEsA59iJouzYWAlEr6xjNX4fTbmRd5k5y1vNBac3emELNxSMbZ9Bp_R_v3veAaJeQNdYV0-gmFi3lsC-PcNyFKrloj5BKnB5GhfD8KPQ-wCBvemw3xcvwMJ5ic/s200/980037-julia-gillard.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486160692202832546" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Calliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373387538376990873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3975609989578184455.post-40284312144883690672010-05-11T19:09:00.000-07:002010-05-11T21:23:54.034-07:00Living dangerously or not at all or maybe living soft and comfy<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJj_tpMIm2XE_IZ37pkLcOiK6ky-saL7L1k6D0733frXZsOp0DBfSWXMClaoXCPhd2Xyp8x2dffAK_dPaqhXNd-GxlaZDasdPqGnR7PtCIIt3yB_7bL9njSHxN5TC1qhErC5_fAPFTO8c/s1600/205732441_174fa4300b_m.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 142px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJj_tpMIm2XE_IZ37pkLcOiK6ky-saL7L1k6D0733frXZsOp0DBfSWXMClaoXCPhd2Xyp8x2dffAK_dPaqhXNd-GxlaZDasdPqGnR7PtCIIt3yB_7bL9njSHxN5TC1qhErC5_fAPFTO8c/s200/205732441_174fa4300b_m.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470203169254630386" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Does anyone else get whizzy-brain syndrome? The kind of fullness that comes from trying to absorb too much or maybe do too much thinking or maybe the kind of itchy brain fever that you get when you read too many blogs that make you feel...well, like you're doing it wrong.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I got the whizzy fever bad today.</div><div><br /></div><div>Today on the whizzy-brain front, I wanna new job, I wanna new house, I have decided that all the things I thought were important were really silly surface things and now I just want more real. More real relationships with people, more real connections, a real job/career/direction that means I can do something useful with this strange thing called lifespan. And I want to try and get some of this done before my desire for kidlets actually kills me! ( Damn you biological urge)</div><div><br /></div><div>So we all search for guidance outside of ourselves. I read lots of books and read interesting blogs and seek out wise people. And then I feel really ick. Cos I'm doing it all wrong you see. I'm not enough of a rebel, I like comfort too much, I don't want to go to India and meditate in an ashram for 2 months. I like drinking cider and watching silly Hollywood movies, I like dyeing my hair and turning on the heater all the time in winter. I don't put myself out there ( A statement I never understood but I believe it to be something like prostitution if your single and quite like prostitution if you're trying to find an interesting job) </div><div><br /></div><div>What is it like wanting to fly far away and try new things all the time and constantly push yourself out of your comfort zone? Cos as far as I can tell that's what I'm supposed to want if I want a 'real' life. The kind of life rebels have. I'm supposed to be more of everything as far as I can tell.</div><div><br /></div><div>Just thinking about it makes me want some cake and a lie down. I think I'll pass actually. I think I'll have the fake life that means I don't do the things right. That mean I get to lounge around with my kitties and NOT be brilliant at craft and watch the right films and read the right books and eat at the right places.</div><div><br /></div><div>In fact I'm going to start a society. An appreciation society. Perhaps we can call it 'Infinite Wednesday Club' and we can get together and do nothing, and be very dull and rebel against everything with our passivity. </div><div><br /></div><div>Let's bake cakes and not know where the latest bar is. Let's read books we love again and again, in fact let's have a book club where we only read books that we've read before. Let's never see unhappy german films by that director who made Funny Games. Let's wear lots of clothes because we're cold. Let's grow our hair because we want to put it up in a ponytail, not because all the Frankie girls are wearing it long. Let's not ride cute vintage bikes and let's not buy oversized non-prescription glasses. Let's never talk to people like we're waiting for someone cooler to arrive. Let's ask questions about each other and really want to know the answer. Let's not just communicate using Twitter. Let's have pets and stay in the one house for years and years. Let's travel to the places we want to go too, rather than the ones on Lonely Planet's Blue list. Let's build tree-houses and let's not go thrift shopping. ( Maybe op-shopping...) </div><div><br /></div><div>Let's just be. Usually on a wednesday. </div>Calliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373387538376990873noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3975609989578184455.post-81817957058474933982010-01-05T19:48:00.000-08:002010-01-05T20:21:51.060-08:00Ten things in Twenty-Ten<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi31davv7ZzrM0YgVvPlwaMiCUTFuzvXKsaWZBvpyJBGC_aakpLFCa-0asFVwglftdfibA0B5QFnmmv5nV1cedOOyKd79Gn467AkNwtRbRJtT5ATtQlMCHOar6uL0qxv-Xdzefx75XzP5I/s1600-h/180802158_7eddc3c4d9_m.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi31davv7ZzrM0YgVvPlwaMiCUTFuzvXKsaWZBvpyJBGC_aakpLFCa-0asFVwglftdfibA0B5QFnmmv5nV1cedOOyKd79Gn467AkNwtRbRJtT5ATtQlMCHOar6uL0qxv-Xdzefx75XzP5I/s200/180802158_7eddc3c4d9_m.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423468923960695698" /></a><br /><div>Resolutions are for suckers. Let's all get that straight, resolutions are the drunken promises you make to stop smoking, run a marathon or in the immortal words of my friend a few years ago, I'm going to get a tattoo of a moose head butting another moose over who is a better dancer. I've yet to see such emotion captured in a tattoo but I live in hope.</div><div><br /></div><div>So anti-resolutions we are. Most decidedly. But I do love a plan, oh yes, plan city here in Miss kitty land. Perhaps a leetle problematically, there may be cold-sweats, awake at 3 am, massive heart palpitations if there is no plan. I don't do well free forming, I am geeky, specific and quite like clean feet. ( Actually I've noticed something about myself lately, if i get a text that uses abbreviations, C U L8er, etc, I feel the need to wash my hands. Travesty of language.)</div><div><br /></div><div>So this is in the theme of plans ( not resolutions ) and lists, which are a really marvelous way to disguise plans, plus you get to check things off. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Ten things in Twenty-Ten</span>, a plannish List by Miss Kitty that freely welcomes failure and disgrace.</div><div><br /></div><div>1- <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Dance</span>. Oh, yeah. I love dancing. It makes me feel spesh. So I think 20-10 is the year of dancing. 3 different kinds by the end. Yes, sir.</div><div><br /></div><div>2- <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Get through master's confirmation.</span> Without the nervous breakdown I am imagining for my pretty little self.</div><div><br /></div><div>3- <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Get my License.</span> I am tragically old and unable to drive. I am very scared of cars and am convinced that I will end up in a fiery spectacle on the news one day.</div><div><br /></div><div>4- <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Eat like a healthy ninja.</span> I figure ninjas must have fairly good diets with all the sneaking and killing they do, so I'm on board.</div><div><br /></div><div>5- <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Read some PG Wodehouse.</span> Small goals are highly important too.</div><div><br /></div><div>6- <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Floss my freaking teeth.</span> Small box of floss, $3.50. Root canal, $1700.00. Kay?</div><div><br /></div><div>7- <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Write book for the children.</span> Grown-up books suck. I'd rather write stories for little people with dragons and ninjas and chocolate cake for tea.</div><div><br /></div><div>8- <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Love my self.</span> I'm just so lovely and darned good looking. Must become more self-absorbed.</div><div><br /></div><div>9- <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">More with the cooking.</span> Must expand cooking repertoire. First on the list, pizza's grilled on the bbq, all smoky and delicious. </div><div><br /></div><div>10- <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Be calm, be mindful, be here.</span> I need to practice this. I want to spend the year living more and worrying less. Breathing and appreciating these moments for what they are. (And if anyone has figured out how to do that yet, can you let me know? Or the Dali Llamas phone number?)</div><div><br /></div><div>Sounds delightful to me. I've already got a list for 2011 too, which is full of excitement. Yippee.</div><div>Oh and I forgot...</div><div>(11- Keep more lists!)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Calliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373387538376990873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3975609989578184455.post-55018285671374861572009-11-07T14:55:00.000-08:002010-04-13T19:14:53.007-07:00No-Whenber?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ2BX6Fit37FdKu8v84_c8sJKDyk1NLjY2m8wO11vToNLGibaHceLHlX96RfEXgL3MhdmUkuoQ-27fP3Iq8M50gk9sfeRoAT2wGKBA-BHzAzdJHE3QtrJUZH2xbbzssKYBmLo0_briiUk/s1600-h/3631183831_958d34471a_m.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ2BX6Fit37FdKu8v84_c8sJKDyk1NLjY2m8wO11vToNLGibaHceLHlX96RfEXgL3MhdmUkuoQ-27fP3Iq8M50gk9sfeRoAT2wGKBA-BHzAzdJHE3QtrJUZH2xbbzssKYBmLo0_briiUk/s200/3631183831_958d34471a_m.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401507864474582034" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">from <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/14612958@N07/3631183831/">here</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: normal; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Hello world, I know its November and all that but really a whole week of 30+ and nights not getting below a 17? What is that about? Are you on Al Gore's side, is that it? Are you just trying to put Andrew Bolt in his place ( Actually I'm all for that, vapid little human) </span><br /></div></span><div style="text-align: center;">I'm just not ready for summer. Although my Moo-Ma is coming to visit today to get me a skirt sewing lesson and I just bought a pair of Luvees ( On <a href="http://frocksandfroufrou.blogspot.com/2008/09/most-important-evah.html">Lili's</a> recom) which are heaven in pink lacey frothiness. And I'm having large lusting for <a href="http://www.drmartens.com/ProductDetail.asp?PID=13091001">these</a> sandals that tick both cuteness and most comfortable shoes ever for work and walking around.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>But still, I'm a winter gal. How I love the coats and the boots and heater and the snuggling under the doona. Heaven.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">P.S- That photo at the top is by my beautiful Mother. Don't tell her but she and her husb are having a 120th birthday party next year and my pressie to them is going to be two weeks gallery space for a photographic exhibition. It may be the best present ever and I may never be able to give them anything else, ever. Alas.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Calliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373387538376990873noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3975609989578184455.post-24953857411304267182009-10-25T02:01:00.000-07:002009-10-25T02:27:18.230-07:00Grumpy and I<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://agentgenius.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/02/grumpy.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 316px;" src="http://agentgenius.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/02/grumpy.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Got my grumpy face on today.</div><div style="text-align: center;">So has poor Miss Ptolemy, kitty divine. It's Spring, you see, and she has lost all her Winter fur but it's not quite warm enough for kitty skinny dipping.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I really should post pictures here of her furry divinity but she's so black I can never seem to catch her in a good light.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Project for another time.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm just on the come-down from wedding number three. Three family weddings in as many months. Ouch my poor self.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Normal weddings ( read, other people that are not in any way related to my boy or myself ) are delightful. There's dressing up, drinking, eating and awkward small talk, lovely.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Family weddings, sheesh. That champagne isn't celebratory, its medicinal!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I shouldn't whinge, they've all been lovely and touching but you know, everything in moderation. So much planning and stressing and money. Hand me that medicine again, barkeep.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Yesterday was my older step-sister, who is such a doll and I love her husband so much, he's even more of a doll. I got sucker punched by my step-dad Murray getting all sooky walking his girl down the aisle, so sweet from the old bushranger.</div><div style="text-align: center;">But now I'm sitting with my feet up ( new heels ) and keep napping ( the dangers of the infinite glass of champagne ) and wishing somewhere in the madness there was a little time for me to have some me-fun too, please?</div><div style="text-align: center;">'Cos I work in retail and it's the last week of October, which means only two months until Santa comes a knockin'. And I have large chunks of thesis that refuse to write themselves. And a strange pain in my left ear I'm trying not to think about. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Damn, damn, damn, what a year it has been and no slow in sight!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm thinking of starting a club, a slow-down-me club. Each month someone picks an activity they really want to do but never seem to get time. And we do it in a group 'cos that will make us feel less guilty about spending all that time on ourselves.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I wanna have a Famous Five picnic in the Botanical Gardens. We can have cherry cake and lashings of Ginger Beer. And then we can lie on the picnic rugs and look up at the sky and stop.</div><div style="text-align: center;">That'd wash the grumpy away.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Calliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373387538376990873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3975609989578184455.post-33976275784383809382009-09-17T17:52:00.000-07:002009-09-17T18:02:56.355-07:00Context<div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://repairstemcell.files.wordpress.com/2009/03/president-bush-eats-kitten-1259.jpg"><img src="http://repairstemcell.files.wordpress.com/2009/03/president-bush-eats-kitten-1259.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 450px; height: 348px; " /></a><div style="text-align: center; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: center; ">Hello again, yes, its me, the one who owns/writes/runs this blog. </div><div style="text-align: center; ">And where have I been?</div><div style="text-align: center; ">Ah, nowhere?</div><div style="text-align: center; ">Seriously, I have spent years scoffing at those older type peeps who always say "How fast is this year going? Oh, you just wait until you're older and then...Wooh, time really flies"</div><div style="text-align: center; ">Or some such to that effect. But OMG where does time go? </div><div style="text-align: center; ">I blinked sometime in August and now its mid September and I HAVE NOTHING TO SHOW FOR THE LAST MONTH. Not even new shoes.</div><div style="text-align: center; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: center; ">It has been weddings a go-go here at land of Misskit. My boyf's brother just got married 2/mebbe 3 weeks ago and in a week his sister is getting married.</div><div style="text-align: center; ">No, dearest ( She says through gritted teeth) I love spending every waking moment with you family, talking about your family, planning wedding things, worrying if the dress I bought 2 months ago will fit. ( It does, its just a little tight if I try to breathe)</div><div style="text-align: center; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: center; ">But wedding number 2 is almost over. I'm doing the brides make-up and the bridesmaids and the mother-o-the-brides, probably too! Which is fun cos its like painting and colouring, only more tense! I'm not really a make-up genius, I don't wear too much nowadays but its all a matter of comparison. And I'm cooking masses of cupcakes for the day after wedding brunch! And then I'm going to hop in the bath with a gin, or a bath of gin, its unclear.</div><div style="text-align: center; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: center; ">I'm trying to plan life post-Weddings. There may be less high heels but hopefully more Picnics, bbq's, playing with my nephew, caramel, finding that perfect pair of summer shoes that are both comfortable to walk all day in yet stylish and adorable.</div><div style="text-align: center; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: center; ">I also have hopes for belly dancing classes, actual free-time, publishing my article on Twilight, wearing my new maxi-dress ( its so pretty and swirly and bright, I'll post a pic soon) and growing my hair all long and romantic-like.</div><div style="text-align: center; ">And salsa-dancing classes.</div><div style="text-align: center; ">Really, any classes that require new shoes, I'm pretty much interested in.</div><div style="text-align: center; "> </div></div>Calliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373387538376990873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3975609989578184455.post-80491845905748015192009-08-16T19:59:00.000-07:002009-08-16T20:17:17.526-07:00Under strict orders<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Natalie from <a href="http://www.definatalie.com/">Definatlie</a> has given us strict orders to keep on with this loving thyself theme. And seeing as my week of self-esteem posts died a sudden and terrible death ( illness and the week from hell) I'm snapping too Cap'n and listing away!<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>What I love about myself:</div><div><br /></div><div>I love my strength of character. Even when I'm misery and convinced everything is awful and always will be, there is a tiny spark that knows I'll get through this because I always do.</div><div><br /></div><div>I love my compassion, while sometimes it makes me hide away from the cruelty of the world, it's the constant drive in me to be a better person.</div><div><br /></div><div>I love my hands, they are graceful and white and expressive.</div><div><br /></div><div>I love my foolishness. I have the gift of play, I can tease and giggle and get up to mischief without being self-conscious ( sometimes)</div><div><br /></div><div>I love my mind, it is fast and flexible and meaty. It will take me somewhere beyond the everyday if I just trust my instincts.</div><div><br /></div><div>I love my cocoon that I have built around my beloved and me. It is a safe, warm space of love and trust. I love that I know how fragile it can be and how every day I am thankful for it.</div><div><br /></div><div>I love my smile, it is wide and genuine. It is offered freely and often to strangers, friends and even people who MAY not deserve it.</div><div><br /></div><div>I love my sheer joy and semi-inability at baking. It brings me such pleasure and I'm really not that good at it.</div><div><br /></div><div>I love that I can dance. Like really dance. Like I'm the annoying person at beginners dance class who gets it in five seconds and becomes the teachers pet. But I love how it makes me feel and I love that at least I am instinctively fabulous at something.</div><div><br /></div><div>I really like my butt!</div><div>And my kissable lips and grey eyes and red hair and pale, vampire like skin!</div><div>Ooo, I think deep down I might really like me.</div>Calliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373387538376990873noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3975609989578184455.post-87682050601189603332009-08-08T17:17:00.000-07:002009-08-08T18:04:00.598-07:00I'm Bitchin'<div style="text-align: center;">Seriously why is this post so freaking hard? I'm playing along with Sally from <a href="http://georgielove.blogspot.com/">GeorgieLove</a> and making a week of posts about the marvelousness of me!<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">So this is day 3.... and this is post 1.... it's going well.</div><div style="text-align: center;">What makes it so hard to give yourself props? Yet when I go to write something about myself I have to temper it, i.e.- I'm pretty awesome, I'm kinda cool, I sorta rock! Why is it so hard to write the bald statements? I am awesome, I am cool, I definitely rock. I'm bitchin! </div><div style="text-align: center;">Con-un-drum.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Who actually likes themselves? In a 'I don't spend my precious and finite time beating myself up internally every single day for not being smart enough, pretty enough, cool enough, enough enough' kind of way. Oh, none of us? Well, then this must be normal.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Normal is for losers.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I don't want to be normal if that means having to feel crap about myself any longer. Dammit.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I want normal to be no anxiety about what I'm wearing, what size I am, if I'm funny and witty in conversation. I want to stop thinking about how much better life could be if only I was thinner, spoke french, was outgoing and had Megan Fox-like charms.*</div><div style="text-align: center;">I want to stop and breathe and appreciate what I have in my life instead of chasing my tail wanting something, anything! </div><div style="text-align: center;">So today I'm starting an adventure! Wanna come? I'll bring cookies</div><div style="text-align: center;"> <br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 199px;" src="http://www.overthehill.info/Womensart/Derstine.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm gonna find me a beautiful pea green ( sea green?) boat and set off to find my self-esteem. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Here's what I'm taking:</div><div style="text-align: center;">Me- 28, red of hair, size 16-18 of build, shy of temperament, intellectual of brain, kind of nature, loving of mischief, deep streak of sarcasm, good taste in shoes, ability to love loyally, excellent baking skills, no ability to stop eating the chocolate and a smile as wide as the sea.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Lots of honey and a little bit of money.</div><div style="text-align: center;">No map or compass.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Why? Cos I'm bitchin'. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">*Disclaimer- While Miss Fox is possibly one of the finest looking women alive I will admit to being quite concerned that she may not notice if she walked into a wall. But she is awesome and power to you, sister.</div>Calliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373387538376990873noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3975609989578184455.post-84080218558321508472009-08-01T05:41:00.001-07:002009-08-01T05:53:03.536-07:00Mumsy's coming to town<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYiKv5KuQxDqquPe8TUmdUGYe5iq4_O3dG_7lTE9l7fPjhy1F_Q2SATXT2WlkQdTRVPnZO4Fis0-VKgE_ZpLUNKkwrweEYWRjVqFZ5llcUJLrU5QIhTRyUC0PQGMsFoCCe9uaLObJMnpk/s1600-h/633374069_9db086eb21_m.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYiKv5KuQxDqquPe8TUmdUGYe5iq4_O3dG_7lTE9l7fPjhy1F_Q2SATXT2WlkQdTRVPnZO4Fis0-VKgE_ZpLUNKkwrweEYWRjVqFZ5llcUJLrU5QIhTRyUC0PQGMsFoCCe9uaLObJMnpk/s200/633374069_9db086eb21_m.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364975853216079362" /></a>Ah, the Mothership is arriving tomorrow! Its silly to be excited when I saw her a couple of months ago but really if a late twenties gal can't be excited about her Mumsy then there is something wrong with the world. <div>See for my last two years of High School it was just Mumsy and me. My beloved Papa had just died and my big brother moved to Melbourne, so it was just us. We spent the first 6 months after Dad died sitting on the couch watching old episodes of Star Trek and holding hands. </div><div>Now I live three hours away from her and shamefully don't visit enough ( cos I'm naughty) But also she got married again and got a life! Retired from work and now spends all her time traveling with her husband the bushranger! Shocking! Mothers with lives! </div><div>She's coming down tomorrow to play for a couple of days. OOoooo, lovely. Also, she likes to buy me things. </div><div>Mothers rock, its true.<br /><div><br /></div></div>Calliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373387538376990873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3975609989578184455.post-7767670643317179822009-07-14T21:23:00.000-07:002009-07-15T00:06:42.240-07:00Oh, just wake me when it's August<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://static.howstuffworks.com/gif/dog-time-perception-1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 308px;" src="http://static.howstuffworks.com/gif/dog-time-perception-1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; ">July is turning out to be quite complex. For starters, I still didn't have the hang of June and now its quite chilly outside and I once again have only my THREE QUARTER SLEEVED COAT to keep me warm. ( How, how, how did I not notice this in the shop?) </p><p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; ">Then there is the small problem of my Master's, which everyone assumes I have under control but really I'm agreeing with them so I don't look stupid. You know when you just nod because your brain has stopped taking things in and then once its finally caught up you realise you don't know what that actually was but ITS TOO LATE NOW, you can't go back and ask them to explain. What WILL they think of you? That is my life!</p><p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "> </p><p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; ">Then I had to tell people about my brilliant idea of a Children's Lit reading group that is combined with knitting and they all want to join so I'm going ahead and organising it. Found a lovely place and got some ideas for discussion topics and hum, am I forgetting something...something vaguely important? Oh yes that's right, I CAN'T ACTUALLY KNIT.</p><p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; ">Only one thing for it, slurp some gin and back to bed until August. Failing that plan I may have to break out the EMERGENCY AUSTEN adaptations. Mmmm, Captain Wentworth, such reassuring thighs.</p><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "><br /></p>Calliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373387538376990873noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3975609989578184455.post-38402773454729237532009-07-07T20:55:00.000-07:002009-07-07T21:56:39.723-07:00Head adjustment = Hair adjustment<div><br /></div>Firstly, Hair stalking. Not good but in my defense it was really mostly unintentional hair stalking. More a confluence of events resulting in hair stalking.<div>I returned from my trip to Vietnam desperate for new hair ( it was all ratty and icky) and for a new hairdresser. <a href="http://frocksandfroufrou.blogspot.com/">Lili</a> just had a new haircut and seriously, could there be a better advertisement for a <a href="http://www.toniandguy.com.au/georges.html">salon</a>? Long story short, went to the same salon, accidently got the same hairdresser and came out with this...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWvZ4DBEwCxnm-h2zxS73z4nLI6z-i4a4DA2ITvW6KZ9zr8R1SDIdq-4AV0mBdIKQwhrGMLlJNf7UIg0E8yTL7NFnUHT4i-6G92WMMpnSmXwbBhsne__6ilxzB15jMi5l4TSyG4HvgA0w/s200/DSCF1345.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355935814203879826" /><div>(Yes that's me, all innocent and cute!)</div><div>Which is a leetle (well, rather) close to Lili's hair! But, but, but. See it wasn't intentional and really a black bob looks so much sleeker and better than mine! Mine kinda looks as if Grug gave birth to my head!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://weheartbooks.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2009/03/grug0011.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 336px; height: 355px;" src="http://weheartbooks.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2009/03/grug0011.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">That's Grug</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2dv18nFas8hmIb3IpqkVoMGSgjkZ9GTt9zc6tkj8vdC-qYeGNkwnKHlJCy5heaxScwWdB3nMfY80WSMjG5TFpS_L0DcF_glg24kJvp5L3hVQRnN-V8BnGg0VPO3Rv-FUrw9_VFwgdSp4/s1600-h/DSCF1346.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2dv18nFas8hmIb3IpqkVoMGSgjkZ9GTt9zc6tkj8vdC-qYeGNkwnKHlJCy5heaxScwWdB3nMfY80WSMjG5TFpS_L0DcF_glg24kJvp5L3hVQRnN-V8BnGg0VPO3Rv-FUrw9_VFwgdSp4/s200/DSCF1346.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355936571447291682" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">That's me feeling naughty with Grug Hair!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">But see I needed a new 'do. I'm going through one of those adjustment periods in life when its all whizzy brain syndrome (WBS) and crazy highs and even crazier lows. When you feel like you just grew up 10 years in about four minutes. </div><div style="text-align: left;">It all started with the Lecturing, damn that job heroin, it gave me such a boost of confidence and such a feeling of certainty that now I'm re-examining all the other facets of my life and wondering why do I keep doing them if they don't make me happy?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">My trip to Vietnam was a massive example. You may have noticed no specific posts here about said trip...That's cos it was a bit awful. A really expensive object lesson. So why did I go?</div><div style="text-align: left;">I have had a best friend for about the last 7 years who is amazing and cool and very much an awesome Frankie type chic. But for about the last year and a half every time I see her I leave feeling so crap about myself, so very unimportant and uncool and just bland. To try and change this feeling I tried to change myself, become cooler and more carefree, book crazy trips to Vietnam ( we were supposed to go with her and boyfriend) and generally be more like the person I thought she would like to hang out with.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">As I write this I cringe because seriously, when does changing to fit with others work out? Cos I'm not cool at all. I like reading more than anything else. My Masters is the most exciting thing in my life. I don't music unless its classical. I really don't like staying out after midnight. Sunday night is date night with ABC television. I hate fancy restaurants and I can't stand Music festivals. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">So I'm standing on a balcony ( having an illicit cig) in Vietnam. The day has been 39 degrees and I get pretty sick in the heat. All I want to do is go home. I'm sooking cos all I can think is 'Why the hell am I even here?' And right then I make the decision to never, ever, ever again do something that I don't want to do ( within reason, cos you know, I still gotta go to work and the dentist)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Its so funny, I thought I loved to travel. But that was through England and France. Both of which had meaning for me. The books I read as a child, the films I've watched, the history, those are the places I get meaning from. So when I got back from Vietnam I found myself wanting to find that girl again. The girl who was so happy because she had been to libraries in Cambridge and seen first editions of Blake's poems. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ5JHb3PGhWGP0oPqqLlAopVM4Fzmcf7WWjA5pvAwmj8-ZxpmXJTxJTgZjIrwNZXGH9YS9ybd73sYwv7ZNeO4XtU58Czgj0bjTvB53g1nhpECrU6CF1m0OKuL3ee5OSJHzPtimQk6yKZI/s200/DSCF1012.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355945834133167570" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px; " /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://weheartbooks.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2009/03/grug0011.jpg"></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://weheartbooks.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2009/03/grug0011.jpg"></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">Here she is and strange, what a similar haircut to the one I have now.</div><div style="text-align: left;">xx</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">P.S- But sorry Lili for hair stalking, if you weren't so damn stylish and lovely! Don't they say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery? Please feel flattered! </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Calliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373387538376990873noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3975609989578184455.post-89990915011679975332009-07-03T03:39:00.000-07:002009-07-03T03:46:44.384-07:00Home again, jiggity jigHello Internet World,<div>Oh, I missed you and you look so pretty, is that new? Swoon.</div><div>Ah, home from Vietnam. Home from the 38 degree heat and the 70% humidity. Home from the non-stopping noise and the crazy traffic. Home from the beautiful, most intense, fantastic, horrible trip I have ever taken.</div><div>Home.</div><div>I may have loudly exclaimed on landing in Melbourne that I WAS NEVER LEAVING AGAIN! Which is a pretty bold statement as the V&A Museum is on the other side of the world and I have a real thing for that Museum. </div><div>But for now I am so glad to be in my leetle house with a sympathy kitty and some hoodie boots. I think I'll stick around and appreciate the loveliness here for a while...at least until the jet lag wears off. </div>Calliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373387538376990873noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3975609989578184455.post-4225641471321075552009-06-09T21:25:00.000-07:002009-06-11T04:21:35.787-07:00Am wearing the tanty-pants!Ooo, I am one angry kitten. All hissing and very ineffective claws. And why you ask? Because of this.<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 100px; height: 152px;" src="http://www.readings.com.au/covers/thumb/1921520876.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></div><div>This is the cover for Nick Cave's latest book, The Death of Bunny Munro and its a charmer! That is the disembodied crotch of a female ( adult I hope) and oh, has it got under my skin. I work at a bookshop which will buy an absolute truckload of these ( cos they're oh-so-cool) and I will have to sell them whilst biting back a feminist diatribe about the appropriateness of using this image to sell a book.</div><div>I really hoped we were moving away form objectifying women's bodies, naive I know. But I though, yeah, the book industry is a progressive one, we just don't see misogynistic imagery like this anymore.</div><div>And here it is, on the cover of a book that will sell truckloads regardless of the image on its front.</div><div>So, I've been trying to pinpoint the exact problems with this cover and I've defined it down to these.</div><div>1- That it is the image of a disembodied vagina. Passive and confronting. It taps into the distillation of the female body to a series of penetrable parts.</div><div>And if that is all a woman is, why would she get any equal rights or be treated with respect or expect that she might treated as more than an object.</div><div>2- That an image of the female genitalia is both shocking and taboo. Cave, obviously, has been associated with the kind of rock'n'roll subversity that this image hopes to tap into. The crotch shot is meant to titillate and confront the Australian literati. </div><div>Oh well, women's sexual self esteem will have to wait until white, middle-class men have finished using the vagina as an image that is both dirty and forbidden!</div><div>3- Text Publishing have just championed Bill Henson over the allegations that his work is pornographic and now use this image to sell a book. Sure, Text, this is art too!</div><div>It screams to me "Oh we need a stunt to distract people from how crap this book actually is!"</div><div>( I know as soon as I publish these I will come up with better ways of expressing the problems but this is the jist.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Oo, I love a good rant! I joined in the discussion on the Meanjin website too, here's the <a href="http://meanjin.com.au/spike-the-meanjin-blog/post/the-australian-cover-of-the-death-of-bunny-munro/">link</a> if you're interested.</div><div>And now, Tanty-pants are removed. I promise my next post will be entirely frivolous. Am now going to find cookies.</div><div><div><br /></div></div>Calliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373387538376990873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3975609989578184455.post-40038845580240089632009-06-04T02:31:00.000-07:002009-06-04T02:44:52.745-07:00Less Cookies, more Walkies<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://thehealthblogger.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/07/cookie.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 460px;" src="http://thehealthblogger.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/07/cookie.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Winter and cookies are best friends. <div>It's true, they go together like chocolate and mint...ice-cream.</div><div>Or chocolate and additional chocolate.</div><div>But the problem all these besties have in common is that they attach themselves to my body in interesting ways, primarily in a pants-don't-fit kind of interesting.</div><div>So option a) Less Cookies.</div><div>( But the pants don't fit that badly do they?)</div><div>Or option b) Join Pip from <a href="http://meetmeatmikes.blogspot.com">Meet me at Mike's</a> walking challenge!</div><div>Hoorah! Option b for me. </div><div>(Is it very wrong to eat cookies whilst walking? Must check with Pip on specific rules...or maybe, I'll just go with my gut on that one)</div>Calliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373387538376990873noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3975609989578184455.post-62172931544373494092009-05-23T17:17:00.000-07:002009-05-23T18:04:27.235-07:00And what happens now?Ah, sunday. 11 am. Still in bed. Snuggly black cat. Laptop humming quietly. Parental units fresh off a plane from NZ coming for lunch. Pot-roast and roast vegetable salad waiting to be cooked for dinner. Maybe also an apple and raspberry crumble with vanilla bean ice-cream from Jocks.<div><br /></div><div>Plans for Vietnam to be settled, clothes to made by lovely Vietnamese seamstresses to be chosen. (Is five dresses too many?) Birthday presents to be figured out ( for difficult bestie who has awesome taste) </div><div>Weekends, oh how I missed you.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I am so freakin happy that I have finished the ill-advised and yet ultimately successful lecturing a whole semester in Children's Literature. At the best times, it was actually like I was a bee dusting the pollen of knowledge onto the shiny happy flower faces of the monkeys. At the worst, it was quite like that scene in Saw, with the leg and the chain and the inevitability! But I just kept sawing away, oh yes, You will learn monkeys, even if it kills me.</div><div>Didn't kill me, just gave me a bejesus of a head cold and a strange craving for bacon....hmmm. </div><div><br /></div><div>So what now? As I am terrible at staying still for any period of time, I am currently looking for the new shiny thing to distract me. Here's my possibilities:</div><div>Craft- The meet me at mikes book is calling my name and I would fulfill all my mothers dreams if I could learn to sew. ( Yes, dear, that PhD you're planning is lovely but patchwork, that's a keeper!)</div><div>Water sports- I could maybe find out what these are to start with.</div><div>Revolutionise the world with my Library Board Game!- Librarians everywhere would bow down to me as their leader. (Finally a board game based on the dewey decimal system, why did it take the world so long?)</div><div>Sleep- Worthwhile occupation that I have neglected of late.</div><div>Actually do some of my Masters- Ah, yes, the old Master's. Not that I've been neglecting it whilst I Lectured but I have been going through more of a thinking phase, rather than a constructive doing phase. </div><div>Bake cupcakes to distract Master's supervisor from lack of constructive work on said Master's- I think chocolate with mint buttercream icing. Nothing says whoops like Mint buttercream.</div><div><br /></div><div>Right, now if you will excuse me to clean my house before the Parental units descend at least forty minutes before they said they would and also to find the peppermint essence, I think that may become necessary...quite soon.</div><div><div><div><br /></div></div></div>Calliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373387538376990873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3975609989578184455.post-73263500750915977512009-05-01T01:11:00.000-07:002009-06-11T04:22:26.223-07:00Love, love, love, blah, blah, blah<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJtFXB1ildgRQD087QQeAmR2aJlk7xY5ehhQ0RjE808rlAaRsl6g8V04256c2vziaU3wvLofIWxsZN5oxXhdR9j26LBikH6q6SOqILdCrQoFOkBWupZcKlIghDLSOUGrPa9NfHDzKRD2k/s1600-h/3330139413_02c494d795_m.jpg"></a><br /><div>Misskit loves:<br /></div><div>Her new Hoodie boots! They're grey and black stripes (as seemingly most of her wardrobe at the moment...hmmm.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Being three weeks away from a day off otherwise known as the end of semester!</div><div><br /></div><div>Being six weeks away from flying to Vietnam and all the clothes she plans to have made!</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Verdana;font-size:11px;"><img src="http://www.allenandunwin.com/BookCovers/resized_9781741758498_224_297_FitSquare.jpg" title="Screw Inner Beauty" alt="Screw Inner Beauty" /></span></div><div>Kate Harding's book Screw Inner Beauty. Making me laugh and changing the way I think</div><div><br /></div><div>Making plans for my Ruddy bucks which just arrived in my account yesterday.</div><div>Does Miskit be fiscally responsible and spend that money where it counts, i.e.- New pants and or dress at Queen thus supporting local designers?<br /></div><div>Or does Miskit offer her lovely money to Britain by purchasing a heavenly pair of green Suede boots via DuoBoots that will make her feel oh-so-like Robin Hood (Miskit hasn't discussed her dream to become a champion Archer here has she?) <br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJtFXB1ildgRQD087QQeAmR2aJlk7xY5ehhQ0RjE808rlAaRsl6g8V04256c2vziaU3wvLofIWxsZN5oxXhdR9j26LBikH6q6SOqILdCrQoFOkBWupZcKlIghDLSOUGrPa9NfHDzKRD2k/s320/3330139413_02c494d795_m.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330768881470064562" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 193px; " /></span></div><div>Taylor Kitsch who plays Gambit in the new Wolverine movie, which lets be clear, was my delightful but comic book obsessed boyfriends choice. There was however perks for me also... </div><div>Want. To. Pash. His. Pretty. Face. Please.</div><div><br /></div><div>But one thing on Miskit's Blah list...</div><div>Giving up the Children's Book buying at her bookshop. Sigh. Miskit has been lecturing in Children's Literature which is beyond all expectations and rather lovely but also time-consuming and pays much better than her buying position. So its heave-ho to my buying job, which sucks cos now she won't get to play with Lili anymore. </div><div>Miskit feels on the whole the love bunnies win over the blah bunnies this week. Tally-ho</div>Calliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373387538376990873noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3975609989578184455.post-8964767401089075082009-04-14T20:18:00.001-07:002009-04-14T20:23:17.903-07:00Go Outside!In the winter months my cat has taken to living in the towel cupboard, which is cute.<div>Aw...kitteh-towel.<div>But then you jump out of the shower, need to get a new towel, grab the juicy, brand-spanky-new emerald Bathsheet and then spend the next hour trying to remove all the fine, fine black fur from your white white, highly sensitive skin.</div><div>Kitteh, I love you but please please, go outside!</div></div>Calliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373387538376990873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3975609989578184455.post-52330739509423267632009-04-06T20:09:00.000-07:002009-04-10T05:46:56.972-07:00Like Whole Days off and stuff!Its easter break for the monkeys ( uni students who I teach) and I am sooo happy. As much as I enjoy having no time off and being vague and crazy all the time, a little bit of time off is sounding rather peachy to me! <div>My brother and I were planning to descend upon my mama and step-papa for easter-luv but then I realised that with my brother comes the excitable package of Nephewness, that, let me make clear, I love and adore. </div><div>But Easter is a time for laziness, especially with my life hurtling along at its current semi-destructive pace. Its a time for relaxation, for quiet contemplation and for eating too much chocolate and then the drinking of the fizzy-good!</div><div>Chocolate and relaxation, kittens, that is what its all about!</div><div>And what could be more relaxing than a six year old jumped up on chocolate for three days straight! </div><div>'Cos its like crack to my nephew, he can't help himself and then the cravings kick in and the tantrums, Easter is the danger zone! Its the gateway!</div><div>So in Melbourne I shall stay...but actually, I did buy the whole family easter eggs the other day. And the boy is out on Sunday morn...and I'll be all alone with the chocolate...just a taste, man, thats all I need...just one more taste!</div>Calliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373387538376990873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3975609989578184455.post-22687752757631714592009-03-28T19:16:00.000-07:002009-03-28T19:23:50.537-07:00Sunday, lovely SundayAh, my one day of weekend!<div>Working in retail, which I misguidedly do.</div><div>And teaching on one of my weekend days, which I do under protest,</div><div>means that <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">sunday</span>, that day of sweet laziness, is all I get at the moment.</div><div>And even though I'm usually finishing off a lecture to give the next day or eek, beginning said lecture, I still have the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Sunday</span> love.</div><div>Today I love,</div><div>My boyfriend getting confirmation that he has got his new, highly desired, job.</div><div>Ptolemy trying to get into the world in the mirrors, again.</div><div>Sleeping in after wine induced coma-like status.</div><div>The sunshine, oh, lovely last rays of summer sunshine.</div><div>The roast I plan to cook for dinner.</div><div>And eat in front of my favourite <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Sunday</span> activity, Sunday ABC television, which is new Poirot! (I heart Agatha Cristie, way too much.)</div><div>Going to bed feeling like I had a weekend, despite the awful Yum <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Cha</span> last night, despite me writing a lecture for a good chunk of the day, despite the feeling like I'll never stop being busy again.</div><div>Ah <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Sunday</span>, you day of magical powers and brownies and all.</div>Calliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373387538376990873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3975609989578184455.post-37936777543938658092009-03-21T15:57:00.000-07:002009-03-21T16:09:51.309-07:00Lectures and Tantrums and Autumn, oh myI am currently embroiled in my first ever Lecturing position in Children's Lit and, wow, is it a giant leap for MissKit-kind. I think I've been saying how much I wanted to be a professor since I was about twelve. I have no idea why but its always been there.<div>And now I'm walking down that road.</div><div>What a thing to spend your life dreaming and then have your dreams come colliding with reality. It is both exhilarating and terrifying. I am either bursting into tears at the sheer size of the wall I must scale or else I am the most triumphant I have ever been. </div><div>But today I have decided that no more tears and tantrums are necessary ( though some may be inevitable) I am going to be positivity itself.</div><div>Its Autumn, my favourite season. I have everything ahead of me. I am loved. Life is beautiful and I will carve out a pocket of happiness in the exact shape I desire.</div><div>It will be the shape of afternoon tea.</div><div>Of bowls of flowers.</div><div>Of the Botanical Gardens.</div><div>Of sweetness and contentment.</div><div>Of Yoga and walking everyday.</div><div>Of stopping and breathing and thanking.</div><div>And it will be the shape of me, all the inches of imperfect, lovely me.</div>Calliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373387538376990873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3975609989578184455.post-49976624240782604042009-03-06T22:51:00.000-08:002009-03-07T20:57:09.126-08:00In the beginning...In a time that feels like miles ago there was just me and my black cat. <div>We liked it that way. Lots of time for mischief and just being.</div><div>And then you seem to hit some age, some time that means there is no more perfect silence, perfect contentment. </div><div>Now there is noise and busy and crazy.</div><div>There is difficult jobs with difficult people.</div><div>There is trying to decide who we are.</div><div>There is the beginning of Master's and careers where we want them.</div><div>There is tired and scared and full-up.</div><div>There is also love though, with a brilliant, beautiful boy.</div><div>There are rainy days and Jane Austen.</div><div>There is chocolate and expensive shoes.</div><div>And there is still my cat. <br /></div><div>So welcome to my blog.</div><div>Which is all about a silky black cat called Ptolemy and, me.</div>Calliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373387538376990873noreply@blogger.com1