Category Archives: domesticity

this is a great weekend

Right now I’m supposed to be midway through a day of workshops over in Prahran (or wherever they are). But a water main has burst and I am trying to get a plumber to come fix it. Why can’t I find a plumber willing to rip me off for a few hundred bucks on a Sunday? I could leave it, but then it wouldn’t get fixed. :(
This is the exact same problem we had before – the bung pipe in the veggie patch. The owner had his bullshit ‘plumber’ (ie some stooge who isn’t a qualified plumber) ‘fix’ it last time and, well… I thought someone was hosing down our house, went outside and discovered where Melbourne’s water was going. Up into the air, over some laundry, and all over the back yard.
The emergency plumber will cost a bomb, the landlord will try to make us pay it and I’ll get so angry I’ll try to kick the shit out of him write angry things on the internet and frighten The Squeeze with some shouting.
So now I’m sitting here TRYING to find a fucking plumber. The Squeeze is off doing stupid moomba shit and doesn’t have a mobile, and I’m seriously sleep deprived and dehydrated. The classes yesterday were in a really overcrowded, hot hot HOT room and I haven’t been able to drink enough to stop feeling thirsty since. We also had to suffer through two classes with a few bullshit American hot shot teachers and I’m more than a little shitty about being ripped off.
This is a great weekend.

speculation

The neighbourhood kids are playing on the road, pulling some bmx bandits action. They’re all boys and about 10 years old. One of them just asked another: “Hey Costa, have you ever actually been in a real wrestling match?”
He’s not the only one who’d like to know.

she who dies with the most fabric wins

Bravery report
Ok, so I survived the dentist yesterday. The appointment took about 10 minutes, was absolutely painless and very effective. The dentist was all “Why didn’t you come in? There was no reason to suffer that pain for so long for such a little thing?” and I was all “I was scared,” and then he was “but I’m not scary, am I? You can talk to me” and then I went “it wasn’t rational. If it was rational I would have come in.”
But it didn’t hurt, he didn’t charge me and it doesn’t hurt any more. It was just a bit of sticky-out filling that was bumping out into my bite and needed filing down so it didn’t echo impact up into my jaw. So now it’s all nice and I am much braver about the dentist. He had to remind me: “But that last time was a root canal. That’s the most painful thing you can have done. Nothing else will hurt like that.” I can’t help these things.
I was pretty brave all up. I only teared up a bit when I told him I was scared. I don’t know what my problem is – I can get up in front of a few hundred people and do a bit of strutting and telling of shit. I can get up in front of zillions of people and dance like a fool (with authentic chicken steps and all*), do the worm and so on. I can deal with aggressive bullying blokes. I can teach groups of surly teenagers about the internet. I can run massive week-long dance events. I can play music to ensure a room full of picky dancers have a good time. But I can’t handle a bit of pain.
Sigh. Something to work on, I guess.
So I go back in a year for a regular check up. I’m sure I’ll be back to my pre-surprise-root-canal bravery by then.
Yoga update
On other fronts, I went to yoga again today. That’s two weeks since last time. I suck, because I love yoga, it makes me feel so good (though it’s hurting at the moment), it helps me avoid injuries and muscle strain in dance and it’s fun and social with lots of nice nannas. But I went, and that’s what counts.
Then I went to Sugardough and had a nice salad roll and a cup of tea followed by a nice brownie. Then I bought an olive bread thing (like a skinny french loaf, but not as skinny as those Italian bread stick things – help me out here, Galaxy, will you?) which I love eating toasted with fetta cheese on top.
Sewing news
Then I went to the-fabric-store-whose-name-we-cannot-speak and bought too much fabric. I will blog images if I can ever get them off The Squeeze’s camera (I have a backlog on there). I bought:

  • some black stuff to make a dress for The Squeeze’s sister’s wedding (two weeks away or something). It will have straps, a high waist (sort of empire-lined, but A-line skirt), a bodice that’s in three bits (I’ve forgotten the proper name, but it gives a more fitted look) and I’m going to make some little flower petals or some sort of shaped pieces to sew onto the front to add detail. I have a nice purple version I should also blog – I’m too fat for it these days, but it’s still one of my favourites. The shaped bits will be like petals (two pieces sewn together to give a bit of a 3D look) and are a black-on-purple paisley-esque print. Very tasteful.
  • some cream background craft fabric with nice green crocodiles printed. This will be a bodice for a dress with a high waist (again – it makes my body look longer), with the sirt made out of an interesting greeny patterned craft fabric. All crocodiles would have been fun, but perhaps a bit too unflattering. I like interesting prints, so I wouldn’t have minded the crocodiles all over. Just not the cream background. It will have the green as bias binding around the top of the bodice, and maybe the straps will be the green as well. I’m thinking a crocodile pocket as well. But I haven’t decided on the pattern yet. If I love this dress, it may be the wedding outfit. But it’s my first green dress ever and I usually don’t like any colour that’s not black, purple, pink, red, maroon or some other warm colour. I look shit in blues and greens and whites and yellows and oranges (because I am ‘olive’ coloured. Which means I look yellow when I don’t have a tan, which means I look a little jaundiced. I also have dark eyes and eyebrows)
  • two big pieces of white voile with black prints. One is a nice rose sort of pattern (like a line drawing – I know it has a real name but I’ve forgotten it). The other has a stronger black print and is William Morris-ish. I doubt I’ll ever make anything from them but I like looking them. And as we all know, she who dies with the most fabric wins.

Quilting news
Come on, summer, get over yourself. I have a new project to finish and it sucks to have to put the fan on so I can bear to work on it.
Remind me to post some pics of my latest (divine) job, will you? I am all about quilting using found or remnant fabrics, so most of my quilts are quite small, but also quite beautiful**. It’s nice to see vintage fabrics from which I made favourite dresses (which died ages ago) all matched up in one quilt.
Cinema review
Yesterday I saw Leonard Cohen: I’m Your Man and really enjoyed it. I’m a big fan of Cohen’s music and I really liked all the music in the film. It’s a doco, but a pretty arty farty one (not much useful knowledge in there), and it’s mostly footage of other people at a concert singing Cohen’s songs. Rufus Wainwright does a freaking amazing version of Everybody Knows which blew my brain and made the whole film worth the entry cost.
It does, however have fucking Bono and The Edge talking about Cohen and performing with him. I wanted to scream profanities at them. I fucking hate U2. I fucking hate Bono. He sucks arse. And can’t sing half as well as he thinks he can. And the Edge? Shit, I could play guitar better than him. It was so pathetic to see them playing with Cohen after people like the Wainwrights, the Handsome Family, Nick Cave and Jarvis Cocker doing these wonderful, interesting versions of Cohen’s music. And Bono is suck a wanker. I mean, Hallelujah is a wonderful song, but so freaking obvious.
But aside from thaose nasty little Irish moments, the film was neat. Go if you love Cohen, but don’t go if you don’t like him. It’d suck if you didn’t like him.
*the peck is a very Frankie Manning move. These days I am saying “what would Frankie do?” whenever I want to spice up a basic step. So I imagine I have a giant, 90-year-old-man arse, an interest in boobs and a really low centre of gravity. It really helps me get down off my toes and work it. Just like a dirty old man.
** not in a ‘man, you’re so talented! what a fabulous bit of patchwork/quilting!’ way, but in a ‘aren’t they nice fabrics?’ way.

i have yet to put on clothes

It’s currently 38 degrees, the house is all dark because the curtains and blinds are trying to keep the heat out, and The Squeeze is still asleep – I think he’s just not recognising today as a proper day at all. He went to bed at about 1 or perhaps a bit earlier and has just slept right through. I did get him up to change beds earlier because he was drowning in his own sweat in the other bedroom. In fact, I think I need to go wake him up to force some water into him.
I, however, have done some fiddling on the internet, mucked about with an article I have to get back to the journal eds by next week, wished I had access to a couple of nice DJing books (they’re not even in the library so I can’t go check em out this afternoon), listened to a bunch of music and thought about buying this, worked out it would cost me $189 or so, revised my stance. Reviewed the bands/band leaders on the set (the Chocolate Dandies, Henry Red Allen, Mildred Bailey, Fletcher Henderson, Teddy Wilson, Cab Calloway, Lionel Hampton, Billie Holiday) and decided that I might just have to have this after all. It’s seven CDs for $189. That’s twenty or so dollars each. For awesomely re-mastered loveliness. Still, there is the whole being poor thing.
Yesterday I didn’t do a very good job of coping with the heat. Usually I’m pretty tough, but yesterday I ended up having to go home and lie down. After quite a few hours at the pub in the air-con. But riding about in 38 degrees is a bit rough. Especially if you spent the night before dancing and sweating like a fool.
It’s still hot. The house is hot. I’m sitting in front of a fan and trying not to let my metabolism respond to the exciting music I’m listening to – no elevated pulses!
I think I’m going back to lie on the bed and read some more.
I have yet to put on clothes today.

i am a complete baby

Ok, so I’ve been trying to pretend that I haven’t been having any trouble with that tooth that I had the wonderful surprise root canal in last year.
I thought it was just me being picky when it continued to ache and ache in December. In January. But now, in February, it actually hurts a fair bit more, and aches up into my jaw.
Needless to say, I’ve discovered I have a new dentist phobia, and making an appointment to see the dentist has been … difficult.
But today I did make an appointment, and I’m going in next Tuesday to have my head cranked open again. Yay for brave me!
I am pretty freakin’ scared. Like, scared in a crying way.
I can’t even say that I’d much rather have them dig it out and fix it than continue to suffer through it. There’s something much worse about going in and choosing to lie there while they dig around and hurt me a fair bit than just suffering with an ache. I know it’s not rational or logical talk here. There is no ration. There is no logic. Just scaredness.
But the dentist lady said that what’s probably happened is that the crown ‘sits a little too high in the jaw’ and that my ‘bite is affected’. So they’ll just ‘take it down a bit’ (a couple of milimetres at most) so that it sits a little lower. Basically, the top bit of the root filling is sticking up and getting bumped a bit too much when I bite down and that this is causing pain that feels like nerve pain. It really does feel nasty.
But that’s all speculation. I’m actually going to believe the speculation because I’d much rather a bit of tidying up than having the whole thing dug out and done again.
I really wish that the anaesthetic had been more effective last time. I think, if I had to have another root canal, I’d choose a general anaesthetic. All the joking of my previous posts aside, that was some pretty scary stuff. And some pretty nasty pain.
I am a complete baby. But at least I’m tough enough to get myself in there for another appointment.

greenies

Now I have a bit of time on my hands (and the inclination), I’ve been getting into the gardening a bit.
We have some very sad natives planted in the front garden, but I’ve a solution for their neglect. I take our empty juice bottles (the big two or three litre jobs), fill them with water then turn them upside down, necks dug into the ground near the plant. The water slowly seeps down and out, doing a neat slow-drip watering job. Ta-da! The plants have been a lot cheerier, even with this piss-weak bit of attention.
V_Pea_PurplePodded.jpg I’ve also had a chance to order some seeds from the wonderful Eden Seeds which arrived yesterday. It’s not exactly the best time of year, but we’ve put some rocket in a planter and I’m going to have a look at a couple of peas tomorrow (Oregan something or other and purple podded peas). I can’t believe I forgot to get beans… though they’re not always that happy in the warmest weather.
purplebeans.jpg We love the purple beans/peas, even though The Squeeze can’t really tell that they’re purple. I love the way they have purple flowers and then such amazing purple pods. They’re so lovely. That little picture up there is from the Eden Seeds catalogue, but this picture here is from our garden. That’s my hand there.
I’m looking forward to this action.
There’s also a range of purple beans which change colour when you cook them (to green) which I’ve had my eye on, but didn’t chase up. They’re called Magic Beans. (!)
Meanwhile our self-sowed (grr) cherry tomatos are taking over, crowding out the new lemon verbena plant I put in, and threatening the little baby purple chilli plant. The herbs I planted a while ago are going great guns, especially the lemon basil and the Vietnamese mint and flat leaf parsley. Usefully these are herbs we use quite often. Everything else is plodding along happily and the new yellow passionfruit vine is very happy in its big pot. Remind me to post photos of the insanely big purple passionfruit vine. It’s starting throwing ripe fruit onto the concrete and I’ve already had almost enough passionfruit for the season. It’s amazing shit, though. If you’re in Melbourne, we should arrange a handover so they don’t go to waste (we tend to give people bags of the things all season).

once i’ve learnt something, it sticks

I am having a lovely time tappa tapping here at the computer, but there’s a knot of anxiety deep in my belly. It’s the ‘I should be working on my thesis not screwing around on the internet’ anxiety.
Talk about learnt habits dying hard…
I should be writing articles, but really… there’s no rush.
I also have a bunch of fabric calling out for me to go sew (you should SEE it – there’s some really pretty stuff there).
And I should pop up to the shops to do a bit of grocery shopping.
And I really should think about the set I’m doing on Thursday night (I amn’t DJing as regularly as I was, so I need to practice every now and then to keep my music fresh in my mind).
And we spent some time working on that Tranky Doo yesterday afternoon, so I should put some effort into learning it (I was, as predicted, the slowest learner. And I’m so unfit I really couldn’t hack the pace. But I will get better – and once I’ve learnt something, it sticks. I hope).
But, you know – that internet, she is like a black hole. And what’s my rush?

hawt gardening prn

We finally revamped the veggie patch. I’ve decided to ditch the veggies and go for solid herbs. That bed there that I’m standing on is really difficult to get things growing in. We’ve a few tomatos who’ve self-seeded themselves near the compost there, and a few left over herbs at the front and to the side, but it’s pretty much empty now. The other bed, on the other hand, is now full of new herb seedlings, as well as the old rosemary and lemon grass and a lavender I should dig out. Now it has a million types of basil, plus other good bits and pieces. They’re left in the hands of The Squeeze’s mother – hopefully they’ll still be well when we get home.

But check out the photos for the whole mulching process. Keep in mind the fact that we weeded thoroughly before hand and dug in some sweet compost from the compost bin.