what's lurking in my wardrobe

The world must've gone mad, because Ali's requested I tell you all about my wardrobe. That's a first!

I have to tell you the five things in my wardrobe I wouldn't be without.

This isn't too hard, as I only have about 5 things in my wardrobe. They are:

1. Jeans - so hard to find a good pair. But Kath told me her secret and if you ask me, I will tell you where the perfect jeans can be found....

2. Cardigans - in various shapes, sizes, sleeve length and colours.

3. T-shirts - in plain colours

4. Fun jewelry - nothing expensive, in fact the cheaper the better. If found in Mother's/Grandmother's cupboard even better.

5. Weird retro items of clothing. Like a floral moo moo you bought on king street for $5, or a synthetic anorak you bought in the mountains and now regret...

If you asked my housemate, she'd say scrap that list - anything boring and neutral. But I doth protest. If one starts with a neutral colour palette, one can always layer with colour. No?

So the rules are to link to the person who tagged you, list the items, and tag some people.

I tag Soph R, who seems to know about fashion and i'm sure has had to rejig her wardrobe for baby-ness.

And Christine.

Lego laughs

I can vouch for it being a slow news day (night), but seriously guys...

The ABC maps its future with Lego on The Australian website.

Who doesn't love Lego? Grinches.

Honey, I shrunk my hands

Does anyone else think the iPad just looks like an awkwardly oversized iPhone, sort of like how mobile phones from the 80s look ridiculously large and clunky next to modern phones?

It just looks weird to me.

Speaking of touch screens and I-things... I realised I had been rather done over by my iPhone when in a fit of tiredness at work a couple of weeks ago, reached to touch my screen to make something happen, before realising it was not an iPhone, just a computer and couldn't sense my finger tapping on it. haha. Oh dear.

Oh My Cavalier

very cool prints at Oh My Cavalier (via this is not my work)

The loaf

so you can tell it's been a productive night at work...

The Loaf

There's a loaf of bread sitting on the back seat of my car.
It's been there since I stopped at the servo
10 hours ago to pay an inflated price for petrol
I should've bought days ago but
didn't because the guage went unnoticed
until it hit the red mark of desperation.

What does it mean that The Loaf is still
there filling its plastic burrow
with condensation, sweating like
it's a living organism because it is,
what with all that yeast to make it rise?

All that yeast, spreading like Jesus
said it would.

The Loaf (his body) still sits on
the back seat of my car. I can say
this because it's Good Friday - or it was two hours ago -
and I'm at work, doing a night shift at the
radio station - away from The Loaf -
sweating in my own way; a living organism
trapped in an office devoid of people,
populated by screens playing
the end of Ben Hur to no one.

The Loaf it sits, away from the wine.

I sit, away from The Loaf, away from the wine.

The Loaf, it sits.

A map of childhood

Have you noticed how as a child, things beyond your daily trail seem completely other-worldly?

How when you stopped at an apple orchard in the mountains at age seven, biting into a piece of fruit so fresh it almost hurt your mouth with flavour you felt like you were in tourist commercial?

And remember when you went on a trip with Girl Guides to a namless country town three hours west of Sydney and you camped by a nameless lake, near a nameless road, under a nameless mountain and it stormed and stormed all night and dropped to temperatures that made your hands go numb and stop working when you needed to pack up the tents the next morning? You returned to that nameless town years later, to live and work. It's called Orange.

Or how you drove with your Dad to watch your brother play cricket on the other side of Sydney where people like you didn't live and you passed a grungy hotel on a stop-start road that streteched for miles, a pub you knew hosted gigs for bands you wanted to like but didn't yet. That was Annandale, where you now go to church.

Or how on your way to another game in another part of Sydney you saw that giant billboard advertising Coca-Cola hanging over the freeway like a little piece of New York and you wondered where you were? That was Kings Cross.

How those years felt like sewing tiny pieces of fabric together from the back seat of the car to make a map that would eventually take you somewhere and how inevitably, as the map joined up, how you would tap at the ceiling above you like some arctic animal coming up for air only to realise how little you really knew.

Or how nothing's really changed.

Jesus at the beach on Good Friday

Perfect day for it too...