Oh this happy day

I'm feeling a bit lackluster and lazy at the moment.

It doesn't help matters that it feels as though I have a nail wedged into my right shin and a bottle of clag has been poured into my right hip joint.

So I had to reluctantly forego my long run this morning (read: my Mother held my running shoes ransom and demanded I rest these silly injuries).

With ample time on my hands I went in search of pretty pictures and was quickly distracted. Suddenly the day is looking a little bit more lustrous, albeit lazy.

[gracia and louise]

[Valentino vamp]

[hit the wall]

[Valentino vamp]

[Liam Stevens]

[Vintage poster]

[Kate Shaw]

Lots of these were found through the divine blog: Where the Lovely things are.

Breaking bread

I'm basking in the afterglow of a sinfully sedate weekend, of running, reading and eating.

Lots and lots of eating.

Slices of buttery soda bread, baked fresh Saturday morning by Paddy the Baker, to whet the appetite.

[Paddy the baker]

My heart is still in palpitations, just thinking about the clotted cream, scones and delightfully fluffy butterfly cakes, from an afternoon tea I attended Saturday arvo.

[scones[

Mish and I had a Sunday morning brunch at the rustic 2042. We splashed out to celebrate our first training run together and hatched elaborate pans to compete in upcoming events, including a 29km cross country run.

[2042]

Easter eggs were inhaled by the handful.

I talked myself horse, when I caught up with some uni mates at the bizarrely named Pumpkin House café. It resembles an army bunker, as the outside is draped in camflougaed coloured mesh sheeting and is lit by small lanterns. There is only one pumpkin dish on the menu (soup) as it specialises in milkshakes served with a side of popcorn.

It’s slightly unconventional to crab load seven weeks before a race, partly because there’s no scientific evidence, but mainly because it’s called over indulging. But it sure is fun.

House party

An artist I know became so frustrated by being “constrained by the parameters of canvas”, she started experimenting with light installations. It seems that most people present at Garden Music on the weekend felt similarly frustrated They didn’t start brandishing light bulbs, but they did ditch the free canvas on offer, in favour of slathering their limbs in paint.

Floral sundresses, high waisted short shorts, hula hoops, trilby hats, bare feet, parasols, suspenders and rockabilly attitudes were also favoured attire. All of which are not befitting the typical standards set by Government House.

Needless to say the Historic Houses Trust can throw a heck of party.

The Trust kindly opened the doors and grounds Government House, for a Sunday afternoon Garden Party. Constructed between 1837 and 1845, Government House “is the most sophisticated Gothic revival building in the state (NSW)”. To put it plainly – it’s jaw droppingly beautiful. The cavernous rooms are lit by natural sunlight from enormous bay windows and lined with bespoke carpets, so soft it puts my new sleeping mat to shame. The furniture and textiles throughout are a delightful blend of contemporary and Victorian styles.

When you’re having a house party it’s important to get the right vibe. To achieve this, there were garden games including croquet and badminton.

For the less competitive there were hula hoops, free newspapers and ‘Art en plein air’ (free art supplies so you could capture your impressions of the day). To keep the energy levels up, after lounging in the hot afternoon sun, a selection of French pasteries, tea and iced coffee were available.

This was all lovely, but what is a party without music?

There were performances throughout the day by – Ngalire, First Flight Crew, Lanie Lane, Deep Sea Arcade, Jinja Safari and Jonathan Boulet. In between sets, the very witty Gramophone Man kept the beats going on his beautiful brass gramophone.

This is a shot of one of the blokes from Jinja Safari scaling the scaffolding - gosh they are the bees knees and cause me to dance with wild tribal abandonment till my heart aches and my arm pits are swimming in sweat. Not the most attractive of descriptions, but look in the mirror if you happen to listen to their music - chances are you be throwing around moves that would make the Governor General blush.

Second Chance

If Thursday is the new Friday and Friday is still Friday, then we have a second chance to dance.

Shake, shake, shake.

Contact High

Because Thursday is the new Friday, lets dance.

Reading rock

I thought that my weekend was shaping up to be perfection with charades and picnics planned - but it looks like Rock Hudson pipped me at the post by 59 years, with these lovely photos taken of him hanging out at home in 1952.

What I like about the photos is that he doesn't look like a douche posing for pictures whilst reading without his shirt on, in fact I wish I could look as stylish when I'm reading, I typically slouch and have the unsightly habit of twisting my lower lip with my index finger and thumb. I think I need to practice my reading poses! Luckily for the wider community my finger is twitching over the mouse to buy this, this and this.

Though these books may be somewhat of an ironic selection to use to practice seductive sitting, but they look so damn interesting!

Images via: IMDb

Friday fodder

There are some things to ruminate over the weekend:

PEN: E.L.K

PAPER: The making of Fantastic Mr Fox - this book gives me heart palpitations just thinking about how fantastic it looks. Gimme gimme gimme!

PLAY:

We had a boardgames night last night - it was just a few intense rounds of Articulate and Scattergories - which probably isn't nearly as hardcore as 'Tiddly Winks'. I'm not sure what the rules of the game are or the purpose, but the boy on the box looks like he's going in for the kill.

[Tiddly winks]

I'm going to two BBQ's this weekend, one for mate who is coming home from the UK for a quick visit so we're amping up the Aussie factor to make them feel at home and the other is to celebrate a mate not being eaten alive by sharks during their debut open water swim. Huzzah!

It's also picnic time for Tropfest 2011

Jitterbug

Last night Mish, E.J. and I decided to go jitterbugging - unfortunately it seems like a bunch of other people did too, so we missed out on door tickets to Mojo Juju & The Snake Oil Merchants.

[mojo juju & the snake oil merchants]

Though I shouldn't have been surprised, as they had the most poetic gig blurb ever written:

THE JITTERBUG CLUB
A Bastard contemporary Harlem jazz club.
Plenty of Hoochie and Loads more coochie.
It creeps out like a shadow, Jumps and Jives like New York 1933, and then it wails like nothin' you ever heard before.
This ain't nostalgia folks, its sophisticated pandemonium.
Its dressed to the nines and keepin' in step.

I'm definitely going to be a tad bit more organised for the next Jitterbug club event.

However as that said, when a door closes, a window opens - or in our case a corridor. Cocktails, a mezze plate, an awesome indie soundtrack and ruby red lipstick made the weekend feel like a mini holiday.

Debbie

I slept in this morning. I had planned to do a long run, however the day has moseyed along, inching up celsius by celsius. So a late breakfast with the newspapers and dip in the local pool is the new plan.

Debbie Carlos sounds to be a bit more organised on the weekend. She camps, she cooks and takes dreamy photos.

Weekend away

Hotel heights

National Gallery

Things I learnt during my weekend away:

- Ned Kelly was occasionally partial to cross dressing and riding side saddle

- Lake Burley Griffin isn't usually so brown

- Don't mix white wine, Champaign and vodka as it induces nightmares and sleepwalking

- Canberra has a bounty of beautiful trees

- Diaghilev put the balls in ballet

- Koko Black create swoon worthy sculptures of Christmas snowmen. nom nom nom

- Going out of state to a friend's housewarming, to avoid participating in your own home renovations is a mighty smooth move

All teepees lead to Canberra

teepee love

Au revoir Sydney! I'm popping down Australia's official capital for the weekend.

pssst you're still the real capital city to me

s'more weekends away please!

Was it Colonel Mustard, by the fireplace, with the marshmellowing stick?

I’ve just come back from a s’wonderful weekend away in the Blue Mountains with three of funniest girls I know.

Truth be told they would easily rival the Three Sisters for entertainment value.

Unfortunately I left my camera behind (blast! bugger! Bollocks!) so I’ll have to paint some lovely word pictures to remember the weekend.

As the train trundled up the steep mountainous terrain, a sense of tranquillity that only weekends away and exceedingly high altitudes, enveloped us. Well-kempt flowerbeds in flamboyantly camp colours, dotted station platforms, replaced the grit and the grime of the city.

Stepping off at Mount Victoria, the crisp air was deliciously seasoned with smoky chimneys and the pepperings of possibilities.

Unfortunately our attempts to re-enact “Tomorrow When the War began” were curtailed by storm clouds. The battleground was relocated to the log cabin’s living room.

Huddled under mohair rugs and toes toasting by the fireplace, murder was on the cards.

What could be satisfying than Cleudo? Maybe a second round of Cluedo with cheese, Maggie Beer’s fig & fennel paste, olive bread, white wine and s’mores.

The weekend away has rekindled my love for broad games, so i did a quick wiki search to see what other games are out there to rival Cluedo.

Of course as time marches on all mediums of entertainment have become bigger and better to hold sway over the general public (why oh why are there SO many 3D films?).

Apparently this includes the average broadgame playing family. Deducing a murder mystery sounds positively tame in comparison to – PANDEMIC! Winner of 2009 family broad game of the year

“four disease have broken out in the world, each threatening to wipe out a region.”

Instead of slipping into the sexy guise of femme fatale Miss Scarlett or pandering around fuddy-duddy Professor Plum, you apparently have the choice of being any five possible specialists: dispatcher, medic, scientist, researcher or operations expert.

Pardon the pun but Pandemic doesn't sound like it cuts the mustard.

I shouldn’t bag out Pandemic, as Articulate (in which you have describe words to team mates without using the word) sounds like a craptacular way to past time. Oh no sir. Articulate can convert any would-be broad game hater (testify Rosie!)

What else besides fermented grapes or heavily yeasted hops can get a group of otherwise highly educated ladies slurring words, skewing logic and screaming out nonsense, with a steely edge of competiveness? Best broad game ever!

Besides broad games the weekend also included a spot of antiquing, brunching, reading, lunching, strolling, souping, book browsing, hot chocolating, watching The Nanny, marshmellow toasting and Ga Ga Ga-ing to Glee.

(Note: the days revolved around the impending excitement of mealtimes)

Yay for the weekend!

The Bird's monkey wrench

This weekend i'm getting my geek on again. Perhaps i should just admit that i'm always a nerd?

I'm overloading my neuronal synapses by dissecting the Biomechanics of running.

Running

I'm sure a monkey wrench would come in handy for such a task, but I'll just have to make do by listening to the Foo Fighters.

Jacob A. Pfeiffer, Monkey Wrench, oil, 12 X 9 inches

I'm also planning to flesh out a portly, scotch soaked, penniless character with a sinister appetite for bird watching of the homosapien variety.

Jhenna Quinn Lewis, Bird, oil, 8 X 6 inches

If I don't get caught up in reading the Wicked triology [you could say it is wickedly addictive] I'll transcribe some of my creative writing journal

TR Colletta's, Writer's Block 11, oil on linen, 50" x 50"

and play tomfoolery with my new Camera.

To ensure that i don't get lost in a cassum of brainfarts, i'll stay steadfast with a soundtrack of

- Best Coast

- The Harry Heart Chrysalis

- Clap Your Hands Say Yeah

- Bluejuice

Champagne Supernova

I stumbled through this morning bleary eyed and nursing a throbbing headache. I guzzled glass after glass of water trying to diffuse the effects of the champagne supernova [ie. wedding].

I hung my weary head in my hands, my limbs legthergic, each movement slow and calculated. I contemplated the wasted day that lay ahead.

Alyssa Monks, Hands (2008 Oil on canvas 48x56in.)

But that didn't sit well with me. While snacking on a ham, cheese, tomato toastie i decided that i didn't want to wallow in world weary thoughts.

Alyssa Monks, Smush (40x54, oil on linen, 2008)

So i decided to reminiscent instead.

The green facepaint, the flowing curls pinned to one side, the pageboy playing footy with the ring cushion, the bridesmaid dress malfunctioning from vigorous dancing, the leggy wedding jump shot, the somewhat crude table telegrams and catcalls in the church.

Then i cracked up.

Alyssa Monks, Laughing Girl (2009, oil on linen, 40 x 60 in.)

Best hangover cure ever.

If i were a classier broad i would try to convince myself that my befuddled look this morning was as Alyssa Monks describes her artistic intentions:

"I prefer to keep the facial expressions ambiguous, like the moments between clear feelings or thoughts. In this way, the conversation is ongoing; the facial expression can change and suggest rather than impose."

While Monks is of the school of photorealism she distances herself from that label

"Reality isn't' slick or smooth or without texture...so I don't paint it that way. Reality is full of misunderstandings and mistakes and unpredictability and inconsistencies and ugliness as well as beauty - so is paint."

Which i think is a lovely way to sum up my s'wonderful weekend.