1. something that provides mirth or amusement: a picnic would be fun.
2. enjoyment or playfulness: She's full of fun.

To do something fun.
At least one thing.
Was my mission today.
I went to my osteopath for what I've come to regard as my fortnightly panel-beating session. 

After this I came to the conclusion that I have my own personal
differential subsidence.

I had my coffee in a cafe playing the flight of the conchords soundtrack which cheered me up no end.

I bought the latest
Idn, where someone infinitely more credible and cool than me is out there thinking of ways to inspire design students to be ‘hands-on’ with old fashioned drawing, which excites me no end.

I watched something
very very amazing and wondrous 

And finally I had a little ritualistic ceremony in which I burnt a drawing done by someone who made my life hell for 3 years and beyond….nothing like a bbq!

So if you'll excuse me, I need to go lie down on top of a hot water bottle.


Saurday wrap-up : the wildlife report

I started the weekend with my own personal wildlife.Only people with working dogs are silly or desperate enough to be out in the dog park at 6.30am on a rainy Saturday morning.
We exchange bleary, resigned monosyllabic exchanges or simple nod
s of recognition with one another. 
The secret special club.
We are the ones with the high maintenance dogs that after about 36 hours indoors with no exercise (it's been raining non stop here) greet you at dawn like a chorus of deranged Muppets on crystal-meth. 
And out you must go.

Now, by popular demand
(and by popular what I actually mean is one person . . . well she is popular, so I guess that counts)
needle's edge brings you . . .

specifically some Tasmanian devils

who I've gotta say are pretty damn cute when they're still babies like this little guy and their heads aren't covered in gouges and open wounds from where they've savaged each other over a bit of food. 
These guys are vicious.
Maybe  not as vicious as, say, a funnel web spider which will punch it's way out of a plastic container if it's in a bad mood*
But put it this way, I would not be picking a devil up and giving it a cuddle, unless I really wanted to lose my arm
They seems so genetically hard-wired into them to fight one another over food even in this conservation park** where food is plentiful.
Yet once it's nap time there they are happily snuggling in a big post-prandial pile. 

And . . .
some Eastern Spotted Quolls.
(note the feet :  squee )

And . . .
a Tawny Frogmouth.

All images you can clicken to embiggen of course, or see more here

*Apparently this is true! Andrew says so, so that's good enough for me.

** more on the plight of the Tassie devils later. What I found out about the disease that's threatening the population of them would make any caring person's blood boil, but considering my current state of sleep deprivation-addled mind best not written about right now lest this post dissolve into a polemical/political rant.

oh, and Blogger? fyi you are currently giving me the right royals. Note to self must change blog service pronto.


Departing from the usual

Thank gourd.
No really, thank gourd
that finally .... yes, finally! some of my friends have got themselves organised to have a baby girl.

Because now I can finally cast aside all late twentieth century heteronormative gender fascism dogma aside ... and unleash a sudden and profound urge to make something very small, very pretty, and very pink. 

Y'know... old fashioned adorable?

Burn me at the stake if you will, but this fairly irresistable urge was brought on by by my holiday knitting project I'm sure of it; repeat after repeat of grey lace (yes I know I love grey, I've banged on about it plenny.  But seriously that amount of yarn-overs would send anyone into a torpor after a while). 

So now i'm finding inordinate amounts of pleasure in knitting up a small pink inverted triangle masquerading as a cardigan  [rav link] 
The yarn feels like a little bit of spring as I work it, like the smell of freesias.
So it's a pity in a way that it's now officially Summer. 

I'm doing many mods as I go, but I'll write those up when it's finished for anyone interested in the project. So far?  Fun, easy, recommended; however we'll see what the finished product turns out like ( I may have to eat my words! no matter I'm used to this and I always make sure those words are tasty and low GI).

And now some more choice shots from Tassie (yes there's no getting away from them I'm afraid)

I fell in love with this place.

Words, or ... my words at least, are inadequate at conveying the spirit of this little beach in Great Oyster Cove.

Somewhere in that midden of shells and twigs is a brand new pair of designer sunglasses which I managed to misplace somewhere between shot #2 and #3.
By now they have been washed out to sea and are on their way to Antarctica.

So . . . if there are any Antarctic seals out there reading this right now and your neighbour has been sporting a new look in accessories lately, could you please pop me an email, I'd really appreciate it. We can work something out, no questions asked!

oh...and the yarn? it's Merino Slim Sock from the Knittery, in Daisy. 



I was there, but now i'm back here.

Back in the city.
Work means ironing.
Proper shirts again.
No more bushwalking clothes.
And definitely no more going out to dinner wearing your bushwalking clothes with a scarf oh-so-insouciantly tossed around your neck to feel 'dressed up'. 
Like any one notices.
Or if they did they don't care.
It's that sort of place.

& oh yes I do wish I was back there.
That's the problem with holidays.
Especially really really fabulous holidays like this one.

The getting back.
Is the hard bit.

Incidentally, since this is meant to be a *ahem* 'special interest' blog, I did get loads of knitting done while away, on this
I mean loads
Repeat after repeat with no distractions apart from the occasional need to put another couple of logs on the fire (yes it is late spring ) or maybe check on the progress of the stewed  pears. (How else does one travel with a few kilos of Beurre Bosc you got from a roadside for a couple of bucks?).
And I made some inroads into documenting my backlog of finished objects. 
I must admit I may have been just ever so slightly inebriated with the "Holiday Spirit" (wine with lunch, now that's when you really know you're really on holidays) when I took these. Hence the slight, err crappiness.

It's going to take me a while to finish uploading all my pics to flickr (I took 719, and that doesn't even include the ones that were brutally culled when I realised how many gigs 15 seconds of movie ate up . . . no computer to upload to! Talk about roughing it! ) but for those rugged and foolhardy individuals that can take as many "holiday slide nights" as I can dish out:


countdown to . . .

Flights? Check

Dogs vaccinated and booked into [jail] Summer camp? Check.

[Prison Guard] Pet Taxi service booked to take them to [jail] Super Fun Summer Camp? Check

Human accommodation booked? Almost

Assignments marked and graded? Almost (Five down, two to go)

Giant Rubik’s Cube that is the draft timetable for 1st + 2nd Year ‘09 submitted? Check

Ideal travel knitting project? Check! ravelry

Double the recommended daily dose of Vit C so I absolutely Do. Not. Get. The Virus. That is Going Around. Check

Draft Subject Outline for Brand. New. Subject for ’09 submitted? Almost

Car registered, finally? Check!!!

Deep denial about coming down with The Virus. That is Going Around. Check

Rental car booked? Check

The perfect Holiday Novel? No! (v. nervous about this one)

Dogs very aware that something is about to happen that they might not necessarily like? Check

Approximately one gazillion loads of laundry done despite tumble dryer suddenly on the fritz? Check

New sunglasses to replace ones I managed to snap in half last week bought? Err…not check.

New rechargeable batteries for my mouse? Not check either! (slack!)

Bags packed? Not yet, that’s probably on Friday night after I’ve graded my last pile of assignments

Lovin’ iCal on my new computer? Are you kidding? Without it I’d be reduced to writing on pieces of paper! So…Check!

Room left on the credit card? Check

New hiking boots bought? Check

Big tub of Vaseline to ward off blisters from said hiking boots (and hopefully leeches too)? Check, Check..thankyou pro hiking-type person who recommended this

Almost everything ticked off the
“Things that must be done before we go to Tasmania” list on the kitchen wall? Check Checkey Check.

Waiting for the moment when I’m sitting here and all I can hear is birdsong, no mobile phone coverage, no internet reception, no people and definitely NO more excel spreadsheets? Check check checkidey check check CHECK ! ! !

PS For my American readers: do I have my fingers crossed for you guys in the election tomorrow? Check. 


34 years ago I bought my very first record (a vinyl LP!) with my pocket money.
It was called something like Whopper Hits 74 and I think -although this detail may just be wishful thinking- it featured a giant rainbow-trailing star on the cover
Anyway it had this song on it by the Hues Corporation

And I'll be damned if it's not
still funky! Plus Ann Kelley really knows how to work a jumpsuit.

One year ago today we were up at the farm in Uamby

and first met a sheepdog who was to be called Harper and who we would end up adopting into our family.
What a great birthday present that was
Happy birthday to other October girls, you know who
you are.

Oh, and I made this little owl 

for another birthday girl. 

It looks much better in the photo than it does in reality, because you can't see the messy bottom, or his -like all the toys I make it seems-  wonky asymmetry (my fault not the pattern's) but it's the thought that counts right. . . right?

You can find the tutowrial for this quick project at moonstitches


Looking backward + forward

Looking backward to Melbourne
On my last afternoon there I saw this in the window of a bookstore and fell in love with it.

Into the fold : by Tricia Dijkers Kidd
for vessel wednesday

Looking forward to a load off my mind.
This afternoon I went again to a specialist who is happy to interpret from the evidence so far that the mass on my thyroid that first showed up 5 months ago and which I've had biopsied multiple times is
probably more than likely not cancer.
So that's good.

While we looked at the scans on the lightbox she kept going on and on about what an unusual shape it was, how she'd never seen one that shape before and what exceptionally clear images they were. After a while of this I felt like I was in some sort of highly interactive conceptual art gallery rather than a Doctor's rooms.

And it is indeed very much like a sculpture by Jean Arp

Fruit de Pagode 1949
Tate Collection

What can I say but that at least it's gratifying that my mass can organise itself into a complex shape evoking early seminal Modernist sculpture.

In fact I'd be rather disappointed if it hadn't.
You know, if it had just formed into a regular old lozenge or boring old sphere or some such.

So that's also good.

Incidentally there's a charming little story about a small herd of backyard cashmere goats on the knittingdaily blog here.