Lucky, productive, chef

Stunning sunset tonight 

I got into bed for a few hours this afternoon and finished reading Selfish, Shallow and Self-Absorbed: Sixteen Writers on the Decision Not to Have Kids. I was surprised, perhaps naively, by how many of the writers (almost all women) had unhappy childhoods. They aren't a representative slice of society, but it's made me wonder if happy childhoods aren't as common as I assumed. I didn't have a privileged upbringing - we didn't have a lot, but we never lacked love and attention. I should probably consider myself lucky!

I had another productive day today. Kind of boring, yes, but it's nice to get to Sunday night and feel like you got shit done. 

I made Reuben sandwiches for lunch today. Yum. Now I have a chicken bake in the oven for dinner and it smells delicious.  

Button tin, making room

I made a start on a big clean up this afternoon. I do love a declutter, as many of you will know.  I cleared out a fair bit of junk, and I haven't even started on my wardrobe yet. I found about 300 of those tiny snaplock plastic bags with a spare button that you seem to get with every new item of buttonable clothing.

I put all the spare buttons into a biscuit tin, so I'm the way to having a button tin like my mum had when I was a kid. Mum's button tin was an old-fashioned oval chocolate tin with a posh lady on the lid, and it had a lot of fancy buttons in it. I used to love sifting through them and sorting all the matching buttons into piles. Unfortunately, the majority of my buttons are black, which is a bit dull for sifting and sorting, but very handy if I do ever need a button.

I have been decluttering to make some room because I have a new flatmate. A special flatmate. Luke has moved in with me. Yay.

A glee-packed weekend

I am in bed, weary but happy after a weekend of gleeful fun and sunshine.

* I met a friend in the city on Saturday afternoon and we walked to Johnston Street, Fitzroy for bagels at Bean and Bagel (we loves the bagels, we do). While sitting in the window munching my sesame bagel with cream cheese, I looked up and spotted a faded sign on a building on Brunswick Street. Moran & Cato, it said. But then I walked off and forgot to take a photo. Dang.

* We walked down Johnston Street to Smith Street and poked about in a couple of second hand stores (where we tried on dorky glasses and top hats, and sat in old vinyl chairs discussing sex robots...as you do).  He found an ashtray with his Dad's name on it (apparently his namesake is a whisky distiller). We also looked in the vegan shoe store, where I mostly sat and patted the resident cat while my friend looked at the shoes.

* We then headed back to my place, stopping for a few minutes in the Fitzroy Gardens to admire the city bathed in hazy late afternoon sunshine.

* I spotted several other old signs as we wandered about.

* Just before we got to my place, we made a detour into the Botanic Gardens to see if we could see the eels in the Ornamental Lake. We've been several times in the past few weeks so that my friend could see the eels for the first time, but we've been out of luck. I even emailed the Botanic Gardens administration asking if the eels are still there and I got a quick response saying the eels are mysterious creatures - they suspect most have left the lake to make their way to their spawning grounds. What the?  Left the lake?

Turns out the eels (which are Short-finned Eels) LEAVE THE WATER AND TRAVEL OVERLAND! ON THE GROUND! LIKE SNAKES! THEY'RE FISH! FISH!!!!!!! They can breathe through their skin (as well as gills) and they have mucous-coated bodies which help them slither over the ground. They slither to the nearest river, the Yarra in this case, which means crossing a fairly busy road.

If that's not amazing enough, the eels travel downstream to the ocean and then swim 4000 km north to the spawning grounds in the South Coral Sea (off the coast of Queensland). AND THEY SWIM ALL THAT WAY WITHOUT EATING!  They survive on their fat stores.

Between one and three years old, the baby eels (elvers) float southward on ocean currents and eventually make their way upstream in rivers in Victoria. Isn't that bizarre and amazing? I have a newfound respect for the eels now. I still think they're creepy, but at least they're interesting.

I also learnt from the Botanic Gardens website that the gardens are home to a frog called the Easten Common Froglet (hee), small bats called microbats (as well as 'megabats' like the commonly seen Grey-headed Flying Foxes) and (non-flying) foxes. Foxes! I now want to see an eel slithering across the ground and a fox going abouts its foxy business. Just when I think I can't love the gardens any more than I already do...

Anyway, did we see an eel this time? Yes, we did! Yay! Just the one, but that was enough. My friend now knows I wasn't making them up and photoshopping pictures of them, so we're both happy. While in the gardens, I rescued a European wasp from the lake using a bird feather (then watched it rubbing its proboscis with its front legs as I lined it up for a macro shot), and then I scared a fairly large spider by twanging its web. It ran off like a big sookie pants. Pffft.

* I finished my New York jigsaw  puzzle! Wooo! I did most of it, but my friend helped me finish off the hardest part, which I left til last. He let me put the last piece in place. It was very satisfying.

* After that we went up the street for dinner and admired the supermoon, shining big and bright over Richmond. On the way back we lay on the grass in Gosch's Paddock, full of noodles, looking up at the supermoon. It reminded me of lying on the front lawn on hot nights as a kid with my parents and brother, stargazing and looking for satellites and shooting stars, with a stinky mozzie repelling coil glowing and disintegrating slowly nearby.

* I got an unexpected invitation to attend Barry Morgan's World of Organs at the Spiegeltent tonight with a friend I haven't seen in many months. I can't say I was busting to see the show, but it was such a lovely warm night, and I really like seeing shows at the Spiegeltent, so I eagerly accepted. It was silly, but lots of fun. The man gets a lot of mileage out a few double entendres and goofy expressions.

We had dinner afterwards and a good catch up. And now I'm home in bed, ready for sleep. Goodnight.

Birthday eve

It's my birthday tomorrow and I've taken the day off work.  It means I miss out on a fancy cake from David Jones (which they'd probably begrudge buying since I'm leaving in a week), but I'm having a cake made for me with love by my friend D instead, and it will be accompanied by cuddles from my gorgeous quasi-nephews. Yay.

YouTubing

I'm probably very behind the times with this, but I only discovered the playlist function on YouTube the other day while attempting to stave off boredom at work by watching White Stripes' videos. If you haven't checked it out, it puts together a playlist of music videos in a similar vein to the music you've searched for.

Thanks to YouTube, I've now discovered - speaking of behind the times - The Blasters, Mr Airplane Man and the Gun Club, and have now got them on my iPod.  I've also added The Black Keys, who I'd heard of, but whose awesomeness was not fully apparent to me until now. Yay for new music!

Here's a Gun Club video for you:

Daisy chains, new growth and biscuits

I love these little daises. They're growing everywhere along the banks of the Yarra at the moment. I know they're only weeds, but they remind me of when I was a kid, sitting in the paddock behind our house with friends making daisy chains.

I was also pleased to see, on my walk into the city this afternoon, that the trees along the north side of the river are starting to get their leaves back. For some reason, they take longer to recover from winter than the trees on the other side, but I was a little worried that they weren't going to recover from the scorching heat of last summer at all. I think they'll be OK. For now...another hot summer is forecast. Yikes.

I just made some Anzac biscuits and the kitchen smells yummy. The biscuits are tasty too. Better than my last effort! I'm six days into another attempt at completing an allergy elimination diet, so it will be nice to have a tasty treat for morning tea this week. I just have to try not to eat them all tonight. Not my strong suit.

Wagons West Birthday Extravaganza - Part 2

The screechy correllas out the back of our cabin

Day two of my Wagons West Birthday Extravaganza Road Trip Down Memory Lane ensues...


Dunkeld to Warrnambool

After a bad night's sleep (for me, anyway), Anthony and I hit the road towards the coast at 9.00 on Sunday morning. Nothing was open for breakfast, so we pressed on with empty bellies.

We saw another purdy full rainbow as we approached Penshurst, even though it wasn't raining, despite there being some fantastic fat clouds about.

We stopped off at the tiny town of Hawkesdale, where I completed my final three years of high school (that school looked pretty much as I remembered) and then continued on to the charming town of Koroit where we hoped we might find a cafe serving breakfast, but we were out of luck. Maybe we were too early, or perhaps breakfasting outside the home hasn't really caught on in small towns yet.

I had also hoped that the signage on the outskirts of town would still read: "Koroit - a green and pleasant land" as it did when I was a kid and which I always read with an Irish accent (the area has a strong Irish heritage), but alas, it was gone. I was quite taken with the old red phone box in front of the bluestone post office though (below). Koroit's main street has a nice old world feel to it, with old buildings and footpaths shaded by old shop verandahs.

As we headed towards Warrnambool, the ocean came into view. I said, "I see the sea!", which is what my brother and I always used to say as kids when we spotted the ocean. I couldn't help it.

We also passed the little house where my nanna used to live, just near what used to be the Nestle factory. I still remember the stench of coffee from when I stayed there as a kid.

Warrnambool is a large regional centre and popular tourist destination with a population of about 30,000. It's best known for the southern right whales who visit every year to give birth and its maritime history.

Anthony and I were both feeling pretty hungry by the time we arrived so we were pleased to find a few places serving breakfast in Warrnambool. I had a big cooked breakfast. Yum.

From there we headed to Logan's Beach, which is the "whale nursery". As we got out of the car, a man told us there were no whales there, but there was one near the mouth of the Hopkins River. Thanks for ruining the anticipation, Mister... although, to be honest, I wasn't really expecting to see any. And we didn't - at Logan's Beach or the river mouth, but we didn't really have time to linger, waiting, because we had a long road ahead of us.

Whale spotting...

Warrnambool onwards

From there we hit the Great Ocean Road. Wheeee! It's been about five years since I've travelled the GOR and I was really looking forward to it, not least because I'd get to cross it off my 101/40 list once the trip was complete.

There's a reason why the GOR is one of Australia's top tourist destinations, with 7 million visitors a year. There's rugged coastline with spectacular rock formations, lush temperate rainforest, lovely little seaside villages and towns, rivers and creeks flowing to the sea, and farms with rolling green hills studded with livestock.

London Arch was known as London Bridge until 1990 when the rock arch joining those two bits together collapsed into the sea, stranding a few people in the process.

Loch Ard Gorge is a nice little cove with a narrow mouth (at the right of the picture above). It was named after the Loch Ard which was shipwrecked nearby in 1878 on a voyage from England. There were two survivors, who came ashore at the gorge. When I was in Grade 6 I won a story writing competition in which we had to imagine we were one of the survivors. My story was published in the local paper, The Standard, and I got a book voucher for my efforts.

The most recognisable of the formations is the Twelve Apostles (although there's only 8 left now). The view was complimented by more fabulous clouds. There was ace cloudage all day, in fact. I was pleased. It was the cherry on top.

From the 12 Apostles we headed inland through forest and farmland, with the Hawthorn v North Melbourne (AFL) game on the radio. Anthony's an enthusiastic Hawks fan while I'm a half-hearted North supporter. North was leading as we approoched Apollo Bay and I felt conflicted. I wanted them to win, but I didn't back them in the tipping competition at work (I'm in third place).

Outside Apollo Bay, yet another rainbow appeared, and this one hung around for ages. It was there when we stopped in the town for coffee and cake and it was still there when we emerged from the cafe. North Melbourne was no longer in front in the footy though. The Hawks had come from behind to score a win. Anthony was very happy.

Apollo Bay foreshore

We hit the road again and didn't stop until Anthony dropped me off at my place, tired but happy.

Split Point Lighthouse near Lorne (taken from the moving car)

So...that's it! The weekend lived up to - no, exceeded - my expectations. The gig was great and it was wonderful - in a bittersweet way - to revisit places from my childhood. It still feels a little bit like home. I feel a new sense of fondness for it.

South-west Victoria is lovely in the cooler months when everything is lush and green. It always makes me think of the closing lines of the poem Binsey Poplars by Gerard Manly Hopkins:

Rural scene, a rural scene,

Sweet especial rural scene.

A ginormous thank you to Anthony for helping me to make my whim a reality. I couldn't be more grateful if I tried.

Wagons and cows and farm girls. Yeehaw!

Henry 's autograph

I went to see my current fave band, Wagons, play instore at Basement Discs in the city on my lunch break today.

Not only did I enjoy listening to them belt out a few songs, I got the autograph of the lead singer, Henry Wagons, who, you might remember, I have a little crush on. I know, that sounds embarrassing, a nearly 37-year-old clamouring for an autograph of a guy in a band who she has a thing for. I felt a little sheepish, although I was only clamouring on the inside. I'm too cool (or more likely to reserved) to clamour visibly. I stood quietly in line but I was pretty chuffed to speak to him.

As I had already bought their new album and didn't have it with me, I got him to sign one of the tickets I had bought for their upcoming gig at the Corner Hotel, which I did happen to have in my bag. He seemed pretty chuffed that I had already bought tickets. He signed his name and wrote "loves you" after it. Teehee. (OK, he signed that for everyone).

Hope his scribbling over the barcode doesn't deny me entrance....

Creeeeeamy

I am having a love affair with full cream dairy products at the moment. I've been buying Gippsland Dairy's full cream plain yogurt (it's plain apart from a little sugar) and it's scrumptious. I eat it straight from the tub all on its own. So rich and thick and creamy. Yum.

And as I couldn't get the light version of my preferred brand of milk on the weekend, I bought the full cream product instead. The difference is amazing. It makes my porridge even creamier (strangely enough) and more delicious.

I feel slightly silly rhapsodising about full cream milk after having grown up on a farm where we got our milk straight from the cow, although Dad was the only one who could drink it while it was still warm. We used to separate the cream from the milk, but even then it was much creamier than commercial skimmed milk. DIY skimming involved the use of a contraption called a separator which consisted of about 320 stainless steel parts and rubber rings and all sorts of doodads. From what I recall, you put the milk in a big bowl at the top and wound a handle or something and cream came out one tube and skimmed milk out another. It had to be pulled apart and washed after every use (which was every day).

After we left the farm, it took some time for us to adjust to homogenised, pasteurised store-bought milk. I'm not sure I will go back to skim again.

Anyway, enough reveries of my rural upbringing. Full cream milk is ace.