Babies of Murrumbateman 2008
November 28, 2008
November 24, 2008
The Long Wait for a Nice Cuppa
One thing I wouldn't recommend buying on the cheap is teabags. Since coffee has somehow found its way into top position as The Drink, a decent cup of tea has become a largely under-rated thing, and I am part of this worrisome trend, having purchased teabags for as long as I have been doing the grocery shopping. It wasn't until I had a decent cup of tea that I realised how stagnant my own offerings really were. To remedy the situation I purchased some tea leaves, before remembering I am no longer in possession of a teapot. The problem with buying teapots is that you can't tell how well they pour until you've paid for them, taken them home and tried them out. After first 'losing' the teapot, I eventually found it 'hidden' in the pantry, tested it out by watering the plants (hey, it's still a drought) and today, at long last, I made a proper brew. As for pouring ability, I would give this one, from Big W, a 7 out of 10. But it looks nice. It looks just how a teapot should look - like it came out of your great grandmother's kitchen. Though I bet our great grandmothers paid more than the currency equivalent of fifteen bucks for their centrepieces, such is devaluation. And I bet they wouldn't give you a thank you for some of the coffee we're expected to enjoy nowadays. It's about time tea came back into fashion, don't you think?
How will we know that tea has made a comeback? Sadly, my blogging about it isn't evidence in itself. (Piffle Drivel and Fluff is not exactly the Zeitgeist.) No, we'll know all right.
Business dealers will say 'Let's discuss it over tea.'
Mothers groups will 'meet for tea next Tuesday'.
Single people will 'go upstairs for tea'.
Eco-warriors will buy 'fair trade tea'.
Cafe owners will prepare four page menus, each item being a slightly different type of tea.
When the tea arrives it will be adorned with swirls shaped like hearts, fashioned by complete strangers (but presumably brewed with love.)
An American entrepreneur will open a phenomenally successful store called Moonbucks or Stardollars or something, and open a tea shop on every street corner. There, they will serve tea the price of a meal, justified of course by the added sugar and fat, which turns a hot drink into a meal in itself.
Tasseography 101
Just because it ends in -ography, don't expect it to be offered as a university course anytime soon. Nope, the art of tasseography refers to the reading of tea leaves.
With my newfound hobby of tea making, I decided to school myself up on this fine art, and found myself wondering what the tea leaves mean for my life ahead. Aah, the wonders of the internet. With the click of a button a whole new world was opened up to me.
Apparently, you drink as much of the liquid as you can, hold the cup in your left hand and swirl the cup clockwise three times. (Have you noticed how superstitions often involve the magic number Three?)
To the untrained eye, my leaves look like someone riding a bicycle. The person has just run over a chicken, and not surprisingly, the chicken's feathers are all over the place. The chicken is now running after the cyclist.
Finding out how to interpret a chicken made of tealeaves is no easy task, because the internet is far more interested in the art of reading chickens themselves, or their entrails, at least. But I did find out about the significance of both the chook and the bicycle, thanks to this blog:
BICYCLE = individuality; choose your own path.
CHICKEN = happy homelife and childhood comfort.
So thank god for that. But then I advanced further in my online self-guided course of tasseography and I discover that the bottom of the cup isn't that useful because that refers to the PAST. The top of the cup is far more important in finding out about the future. So I re-examine my cup and find what looks suspiciously like a lump. Unfortunately, lumps aren't covered, even the very useful Red Bubble blog. So I look at it again, and lo, I see a cannon, with four bullets flying out of it. (Is that what goes into a canon? I dunno, I'm not a boy.) Anyway, I'm not too happy to see a cannon. Surely it means war or violence or general evil. But no, it means 'good fortune'.
What a relief! Of course, none of this means anything at all, because I don't think the true Tasseographers would count the leaves of someone who forgot it wasn't a bag, found herself with a mouthful of leaves and spat them into the cup in disgust.
Oooh What A Little Photoshop Can Do For You
The outgoing Prime Minister of New Zealand
Before
and After.
Back in the day we couldn't afford to be so fussy. If there were one grown woman of childbearing age with all her teeth in the entire village, you were lucky. Nowadays we're surrounded by attractive specimens, not just because general health has improved but because the cream of the crop are plucked out, photographed under the best lighting and plastered all over magazines, TV and billboards.
Not only are these attractive humans wearing the most expensive clothes, spoiled with the most expensive haircuts and the most expensive makeup artists, but they are then imported into a photo editing program and fixed up even more.
Surely most people know this. Sure, we know this. But do we KNOW this, when we look with disappointment in the full-length SFX (puckering) mirror you always find in the dressing room of a harshly-lit chain store? Do we know this when we look at a photo of ourselves and say, 'OMG, you have to rip that up!' Do young women (in particular) know this when they look at a reflection of themselves and say, 'My thighs are too fat.'
Stephanie Rice, multiple gold medalist in swimming, has recently admitted that published images of her have been photoshopped. Indeed, she requested it. This super-swimming machine, the proven best in the world, is dissatisfied with the body she's in.
What a shame this role model is not also modeling a healthy mindset to her younger compatriots. But as I always conclude, sports people are picked for their sporting talent, not their overall role model suitability.
Just look at that AFL tosser, Todd Carney.
More Fun With Photoshop
Dan: "Why have you got a file saved as 'Dan Puckered' and 'Dan Big Nose' on your desktop?"
Here's why, Dan.
Andrew Denton Eyes
Okay, this is the real Andrew Denton, but something tells me he's been Photoshopped too.
November 23, 2008
Watching Playschool
I remember I used to love Playschool. Later, I hated it. For years I could hardly bear to watch fully grown adults making such fools of themselves. Of course, now I can re-appreciate their talent. Because little kids love them.
The Look
Published photographs these days all have that grey, gritty look to them. Have you noticed? All it takes is about eight steps in Photoshop (!). No, it's not just a filter, as I'd hoped.
The Latest Weekend Waster
Wading through online tutorials and creating cool black and white portraits on Photoshop.
November 21, 2008
Illustration Friday: Opinion
A cryptic one this week, because I seriously can't think of a pictorial representation for Opinion. But the word Opinion is an anagram of Onion Pi. Hence the red onion in the background, which I painted a while back and hadn't found a use for.
November 20, 2008
Attack of the Mosquitoes
Hannah slept under a net last night but I can only conclude a mozzie or seven was trapped underneath it with her.
The Gossip Girls
Yellow: actual brand names
Green: description about appearance/image
Red: A distinctive feature of the Gossip Girls series is the side commentary.
Green: description about appearance/image
Red: A distinctive feature of the Gossip Girls series is the side commentary.
In an attempt to keep up with What's Hot in teen fiction, I briefly dipped into a Gossip Girl novel. I don't think I'll ever get past page fifty three, so I may as well call it done. Especially since the dog pissed on the carpet last night (after drinking watered down Pan Juice) and some of it splattered onto the pages.
The dog knows more than one might think. The Gossip Girls book he pissed on is total mind-numbing trash. Which is exactly what I knew it was - I'm not that naive. But I expected it to be a little more like Desperate Housewives - an obvious spoof of the rich and beautiful. Instead, this series is less of a spoof and more one long product placement.
How do I know this series is cool? First there's the position on the NYT Bestseller List. Then there are the masses of adoring fans all over the internet. (Tween and teen girls, largely.) Then follows the TV series, which has now replaced Beverly Hills 9o210 as the cool thing to watch. With the ratings sliding in Australia for the latest 90210 revival, newspaper reviewers are suggesting the networks purchase Gossip Girls instead.
This from a 14 year old reviewer on the Commonsense Media website:
Well some social behavior is questionable, etc, but overall, good series. Well written, and very addicting*. And on common sense, people always say that there is too much materialism making us want what the characters have, but some of us actually have that stuff, so do not assume we do not own designer brands, good electronics, etc. Anyways, good books. I recommend them for ages 13 and up...
*What's with the word 'addicting'? I keep hearing it. Don't we already have an adjectival form? It's called 'addictive'.
And another aged 16:
...it's exciting to read about these rich teens who go on these weekend get aways to St. Barts(which by the way is an excellent place to vacation). And also when it's talking about designers like Ralph Lauren, DKNY, or Marc Jacobs it's only informing teens of fashion, 17 magazine does the exact same thing, i promise. So in conclusion these books rock, and I hope von Ziegesar keeps em coming!=DAnd from a 13 year old girl:
Some of the story lines are quite realistic anyway, like loosing your virginity and things like that so i think that maybe some of the gossip girls books help these issues. I really love these books and finish them in up to a week at the most, It's my favourite series and whatever ther eason is - i don't care! It's just fun too read lol.
These books will no doubt continue to surge in popularity. Because the marketing machine isn't complaining, and our teenage girls want more confirmation that they're not pretty enough, skinny enough, drunk enough or skanky enough. Bleeeuh!
November 18, 2008
The Curse of the Were-Rabbit
The creators of Wallace and Gromit have added a new phrase to my vocabulary. If someone has a wide grin and a certain quality to the arrangement of their teeth, I think they have a Wallace-and-Gromit-Mouth. These plasticine mouths create much comic value in and of themselves, particularly when the full cast of Chicken Run were blessed with the same set of teeth. Then there's the added slapstick jokes involving dentures flying out, and the way the end of the tongue pokes through the teeth whenever the character says a word with 'th' in it.
Now that I've watched The Curse of the Were-Rabbit I know that a Were-Rabbit is much like a Werewolf, only a rabbit.
The name werewolf most likely derives from Old English wer (or were) and wulf. The first part, wer, translates as "man" (in the sense of male human, not the race of humanity).
Like the other claymations by Aardman, this movie can be enjoyed on one level by the very young but also by the much older. There are puns at every turn, both linguistic and visual. Wallace's rabbit capture company is called Anti-Pesto. Before his dog puts him on a diet we see him scoopingMiddle Age Spread out of a large jar to put onto his toast.
Perhaps what impresses me most about the Wallace and Gromit series is the ability of the animators to take an abstract concept that few really understand and present it in a really basic way, much the same as a pro Pictionary player is able to do. The films are set in 1950s England, when policemen in tall, blue hats whistled as they walked around villages at dusk. Of course, when such policemen take their hats off we see that they do in fact have large conically shaped heads. Big red buttons are plastered to the sides of ludicrous contraptions, just like you might expect to be adorning the outside wall of the Large Hadron Collider. (FYI, the Large Hadron Collider is controlled by computer, and dependent entirely upon hitting a rather boring Return key.)
Like the other creations by Aardman Animations, much mileage is to be had from strange, unlikely flying contraptions, cute fluffy animals on the verge of being harmed, an ensemble of characters divided cleanly into good and evil and, of course, the love story subplot.
I recommend watching this movie on a large screen in order to catch all the details in the backgrounds. I'm sure I could watch it again and catch more and more each time.
November 15, 2008
Hands
For the past few months Hannah has been fascinated by hands, her own and other people's. She's likely to bite your thumb if you wave it anywhere near her mouth, before making a face as much to say, 'What the hell is that thing you just tried to feed me?'
During the past few weeks she has learnt to pick things up that she actually MEANS to pick up. She can now hold things, shake things and fling them too. Yesterday at McDonalds I found seats and waited for Dan to ordder our hot cakes and bring the jar of baby food. While Hannah and I were waiting she picked up the spoon and poked it into her mouth, before screaming loudly because the spoon had no food on it.
Waiting.
I think Flicker would have spent most of his time alone sitting in the front yard waiting. (Interspersed with an occasional dig, of course.)
Welcomed Home
Flicker is always glad to see someone home. I'm even sure he'd be keen to see a robber. But when Hannah and I arrived home after two weeks' absence, we were licked like we'd never been licked before. Hannah even got licked all over her legs.
I see that Flicker has been amusing himself during his long, lonely days by continuing work on his hole to China. At least a robber may be foiled by sticking his foot down the thing and breaking an ankle. This is probably a more effective trap than a snarling fluffy dog anyway.
Gangsta
This weekend Mum and Dad go to an Italian themed birthday party. Here he is in his gangster hat. I have yet to see the entire outfit, though he offered to drop me off at the airport in full regalia (two dollar shop guns and hand grenade included). I declined.
Mum, on the other hand, is going to the party as a venetian blind. She found a broken one in the cheap bins at Spotlight. Not exactly the most comfortable of outfits, but I very much doubt she'll find another woman dressed in exactly the same outfit.
Dan's New Subaru
Dan picked us up from the airport in his new car. During the trip I was introduced to all of its gadgets, buttons and switches. I still haven't driven it because I don't like the idea of parking a much larger vehicle. It's good to be a passenger anyway. After sitting cramped in cattle class on the flight home (even though with a baby we were given a whole aisle to ourselves) it was great to be able to stretch out my legs. One of the benefits of being a shortie, I guess.
November 14, 2008
Illustration Friday: Pretend
Like many American traditions, Halloween is slowly catching on Down Under, but I remember as a kid WANTING to go trick or treating, yet facing the opposition of parents who considered the practice a thinly disguised form of begging for food. However, we must have celebrated Halloween in some shape or form, because here is a picture of my brothers. And I don't recall this was their usual get up.
Back in the USSA! (Auss)
After snowing, hailing, blowing and cold encountered in my hometown of ChCh, I arrived on a stinking hot day in Murrumbateman, greeted by inland flies, oppressive heat, hayfever which started within five minutes and, eventually, a thunderstorm. Well, you can't have everything.
In NZ I was asked by numerous people which country was better to live in. To me, the divide between NZ and Australia is more political than social, with minor differences therein. Mind you, now that the governments have swapped, with NZ now led by a National Govt and Australia led by a Labour one, the political differences are likely to become more miniscule.
Once again, after arriving home in Christchurch from Australia, the first thing I noticed was the Kiwi accent. (Do I really sound like that?) But once again, I stopped noticing it after a few days, and instead, the Australian accent struck me as different upon my return.
GOOD THINGS ABOUT NEW ZEALAND
1. Nice gardens and lawns. Everyone seems to have a nice lawn. It helps when you can leave your sprinkler on all night without paying for water. Here in Canberra we have what can best be described as mown paddock grass.
2. The best drinking water in the world is in Christchurch. (That's not just my personal opinion - it was tested.) Although there is need to be careful about the Canterbury water supply, however much New Zealanders complain about drought, the drought in NZ just doesn't compare.
3. The food. Especially fresh fruit and veg. The NZ climate will always make for nicer grapes, apples and, for some reason, sausages.
4. Absence of annoying wildlife. I.e. flies. Oh, yes NZ has flies. But not the kind that try to crawl into every orifice. Nor does NZ have those little biting ants that crawl up the leg of your pants and scare the hell out of you until you realise it wasn't a redback. No fear of brown snakes either when you frolick in the hay. Okay, so I'm not usually struck with the fancy of frolicking in hay myself, but kids are...
GOOD THINGS ABOUT AUSTRALIA
1. Higher wages.
2. Higher dollar. Better for travel. This, of course, is to do with a larger population and a resources boom. No amount of government shuffling in NZ will compete with that.
3. Cheaper stuff. Fuel is heaps cheaper. So are electronic goods and anything imported such as clothing and food. This is to do with the higher dollar, of course. Of course, cars themselves are cheaper in NZ. So is diesel. And you don't tend to drive such long distances. But we drive on petrol, so Australia is a better place in which to own a family car.
4. Plenty of work, and more opportunity in narrow fielded jobs. Bigger population brings more opportunity.
So there you go! If you ask me which country is better, it's much of a muchness really! I think the ideal is to be educated in NZ, work in Australia and retire to NZ. Of course, if everyone did that, NZ would be stuffed.
November 13, 2008
Admiring the Baby
Before she is taken home to Australia.
It was noted that Hannah likes to cross her legs in the same way my grandmother used to cross her legs. This, apparently, means she is bound to be a chatterbox.
Bubble Bath in the Sink
Like dogs, babies like to eat bubbles. Mum even tried some of the bubbles to see what they tasted like. They taste like nothing, apparently. I guess the makers of babies' bubble baths know this as a universal truth.
Louis
Louis licks the jelly off jellymeat and leaves the meat. He refuses to go anywhere near raw meat. I'm even suspecting he's vegan, as he wasn't the slightest bit interested in the cream I gave him this morning from Mum's birthday sponge cake. Weird.
Fleur on the Couch
This cat spends part of her day stretched out in the sun room, and the rest of the day hunting for birds. She lurks among the flowers in the garden and darts out whenever she sees a bird. She has even caught a few.
November 12, 2008
November 10, 2008
Misty Morning in Suburban Christchurch
Mist opened up to a beautiful Christchurch day. It may have been snowing and hailing last week for the beginning of November, but there is the odd patch of blue.
On the Nice NZ Grass
No biting ants, no dog poo, no risk of poisonous creatures or sheep diseases. Bweuti.
The Hothouse at the Christchurch Botanical Gardens
On the single hot day in Christchurch something told us that visiting the tropical hothouse in the city gardens would be a fine idea. I only lasted a few minutes in there. It was steaming.
Rawleigh's Medicated Ointment
I grew up with this white ointment, created by a doctor in what seems like about the eighteen hundreds. I don't know if it does EVERTHING it's supposed to, but it smells nice. And the retro tin is pretty cool. These days, now that Dr Rawleigh is dead and gone, you have to look around for a distributor. There's one at the Riccarton Market (a smart ass - but perhaps that's because I'm a 'young female' and therefore attract them). He has a stall most weekends so I got a new tin from him for twenty bucks. This is the first time I have bought one myself, because Dad always gives me Rawleighs as a farewell present whenever I'm going overseas. The curent tin, half gone and losing its aroma, has been to the other side of the world and back several times. There's also a spray can which you spray into the steam of a hot shower when you've got a cold, and that smells good too except it's got one of those highly flammable red labels stuck to it and I don't like my chances getting it on the plane, despite every reassurance that it can go into the main baggage compartment.
Hannah's Christmas Stocking
I had a sneaky suspicion Hannah's Nana may have prepared a Christmas stocking in time for her first Christmas. But I didn't expect it to be a work of art of about a hundred hours' labour. Nana is thinking of doing another one for the 'next grandchild' before her eyes give up on her.
November 09, 2008
Second Cousin Bridget
Hannah loves Bridget, four years old, who probably seems like a huge big girl. Of course, someone in the room who's singing and prancing around and playing with toys is far more interesting than the rest of us codgers, sitting around sipping out of cups.
New Sunnies
Hannah got some sunglasses at the Riccarton Market. Now she looks like a mini Paris Hilton.
November 08, 2008
Dad's Gnomes
Dad is of the opinion that these gnomes are more high class than the common garden variety. They're a fairly new acquisition - he didn't have them when I was a kid. If he had, they'd probably have been smashed by a wayward ball or something. He did have a very small pair of leather boots, however, which he suspended by the boot lace from the choker in his car. This was for good luck. He told me he'd wrestled them off a garden gnome and I liked to believe him. It's great being a kid, never sure of the difference between truth and fiction. Of course, this is why we need to be careful of what we let kids watch on TV!
November 07, 2008
Furry Fleur
Dan sent me to NZ with strict instructions to knock the cats off, so that next time he can join me. Being highly allergic, he couldn't come this time. I have suggested to Mum and Dad that perhaps when Dan joins me we could hire a caravan for him and leave him to live in that, in the yard. Of course the cats would be strictly forbidden to enter, despite their natural curiosity. And the neighbours would talk.
'They won't even let their son-in-law in the house!'
'He must be a right rotten bastard!'
November 03, 2008
November 02, 2008
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