The house in the mist

Home away from home and pit stop before global adventures. 

Treehouse in Spring

It was too pretty a day to feel as deflated as I did, but there was a moment of pure gratitude noticing my quarterly bill contributions do indeed maintain such a lovely spring garden.

119 Days

Pesto crusted field mushroom in oven? Check.

New hairdo that rectified the "Ginger Meggs" situation? Check.

The Radio Dept. to dance to? Check.


It's a swell Wednesday. I have (give or take) 119 days till I see my wifey in the mythical land of Ice and some bucket list items get seriously checked off.  In the short-term I have many a fun things coming up - a movie with my favourite Chan-streeter/Secret Belcompton Mall Rat/basically same person but upgraded, dinner with my oldest lady friend, annual trivia (a matter I don't consider trivial in the slightest), and a birthday celebration with a lady I get to go out with so rarely.

A Song To Pack To

As most of my friends (and mother) know, I am atrocious at packing. Notoriously slow, and highly distracted. But at least I have fun tunes to do it to. I'd like to think it improves my speed, high doubtful though...

When Phoenix Rose

When I heard the news, this song was playing. Such a great pop tune to accompany such a great announcement. I am so elated that my favourite pub in my hometown has finally reemerged.

Monday Morning Sounds

Ironically, it is not at all like t-shirt weather.

Debunking the paleo diet: Christina Warinner at TEDxOU

Long, but so worth it. Although I have seen this one hundred times and I still enjoy how brilliantly the speaker exposes the false basis that underpins this absurd diet trend.

My nearest and dearest know not to mention the world 'paleo' near me, as instinctive rage-ranting ensues.

Pita Pizza Tuesdays

I know traditionally the best pizzas only have a smattering of toppings but I can never stop, especially when there's vegan chorizo made by the most talented vegan wizard on top.

Thin and crispy base is the only way. Ever.

Monday Night Tunes

Monday Night Cooking

Home cooked tomato sugo courtesy of the Dapplewood vegetable patch. 

Plus some delightful Dapplewood eggplant, roasted.

Yum. Thank you Farmer Mum.

The Loveliest Highlands

Easter Dining

A delicious meal so delicious I forgot to take a 'before' image. So here's the modern Asian delicious food porn substitute.... Rustic looking sugar cubes.

My only criticism of the Hungry Duck was their complete nonchalance when asked why a meal under the 'vegetable' heading of the menu arrived smothered in bonito flakes. Not. Cool.

Homeward Bound

An excellent driving album.  You can never go wrong with a sneaky Wes Anderson reference.

Saturday Afternoon Tunes

This band always takes me back to Christmas in Paris, and the hostel with bed bugs.  The receptionist had this album on loop and I spent my Christmas evening with him in a tacky sports bar sinking beers and watching soccer.

It's a very fond memory, apart from the parasite part.

An Easter Vintage Find

Would somebody just feed this squirrel a nut please? Look at that face. 

One Sunday at the Gallery

At first I thought I should just put the experience that was Portraits from Prime Time behind me, pretend it never happened like the time I smashed that huge bottle of olive oil in the middle of the supermarket but evidently, just like that frigging olive oil I just can’t hold onto this any more.  I really am a big believer in the 'if you haven't got anything nice to say, don't say it at all' mentality but this has just really been bothering me. I have recounted the tale to a couple of unsuspecting friends during the week who innocently asked what I did on the weekend, to which I replied ‘I went to the Portrait Gallery’.  Inevitably the next question is ‘oh, what did you see?’, and unfortunately this is where it gets ugly. Sorry in advance, National Portrait Gallery, I hope we can still be friends.
In brief, Portraits from Prime Time was shallow, vapid and downright depressing. In order to understand the context of this most epic let down I should probably set the scene here. For me, the most recent visit to my much-loved National Portrait Gallery was to see the Elvis at 21 Exhibition which was not longer than a month ago, and an exhibition which I still think about frequently due to it being pretty darn swell. What made this particular series of photographs so great was the depth that emerged from what was essentially a serendipitous  few days of observational photography. Unbeknownst to the photographer at the time, the significance of the series has understandably increased given the events of Elvis’ life and death.  What was a relatively short compilation of photographs articulated the beauty in observation, the wonderful stories to be told in showing the ‘just before...' and ‘just after...’ moments, with the added depth of what was a complicated time of change and revolution in both music and America’s social history.
Back to Portraits from Primetime, and I couldn’t help but feel a serious juxtaposition between these two exhibitions. A large number of the photographs from Portraits from Prime Time were in fact film stills, perfectly primped and placed not unlike their actor/singer/socialite subject matter, a number of which were from television series I didn’t consider particularly groundbreaking. Yes, I’m looking at you, Offspring. Alongside said film stills were information bubbles explaining how television stills photographers use a ‘blimp’ casing to ensure the actors don’t know they’re being photographed, which I could only interpret as somehow trying to convince the viewer that these photos essentially pulled straight from the television screen deserved some kind of artistic merit. For me, this was a losing battle.
For the non-film-still and film-still pieces alike, information bubbles - and I use the term bubbles as they were circular stickers on a wall with literally just dot points - detailed the most inane facts about said celebrities. ‘ABC Celebrity has 150 000 Instagram Followers - Is a Vegetarian - Daughter of XYZ - bought a car for $500 and drove it around the country’.
By trying to demonstrate an intimate insight into these celebrity characters the complete opposite has been achieved, whereby their worth is boiled down to trivial, insipid factoids.
These images were being displayed in the National Portrait Gallery, but I would go so far as to say many of them fell short of the criteria of a ‘portrait’. Many felt as though they’d been ripped straight from the pages of a glossy magazine, and consequently were far too easy to just walk right past.
Now, it’s not all bad. Fortunately, the day was redeemed by the second half of the tour being National Photographic Portrait Prize exhibition.  Each of portraits had a rich narrative and varying subject matter - for some of these, the image and the narrative clashed in positively thought-provoking way. Some portraits were political, some not. Some heartwarming, others brave, others shocking. After what felt like navigating a barren cultural desert that was Portraits from Prime Time I was glad we found ourselves in the relative oasis that was the National Photographic Portrait Prize, saved before I had lost all faith in the Gallery I love very much. NPG, you're forgiven, but please don't do something like this again.

"Noah". Just, no.

Oh, Noah. Not since the emergence of skorts have I seen such an interpretation of a classic go so very wrong. 

Over two hours long, it's certainly not an unamusing film, better again once we'd accepted the film was not to be taken seriously which then turned into a joyride of stifled laughter. 

The dialogue is so strained in a film that takes itself far too seriously, jumping between rare relatable moments of an approachable protagonist and plain and simple pretentious biblical-film, slap-you-in-the-face-with-meaningful-messages bullshit.

The narrative has some serious 'creative additions' which were just downright strange, not to mention a particular scene involving an inebriated, naked Noah.

The special effects were certainly a - if not the only - redeeming feature, and Director Darren Aronofsky's trademark sound palette was impressive as always. Unfortunately as much as I'd hoped the immense talent of Aronofsky could pull this one off, it sunk under the weight of its own pretentiousness. 

2 out of 5 massive apocalyptic plot holes. 

Friday Night Tunes

I will never stop loving this song - it is a pretty spectacular way to end what's been a fairly mad working week.

Cue terrible apartment dancing...

Emma

This is Emma, I met her at a cafe where she was cradled in her Dad's arms willingly accepting all the pats she could get. And there were many.

Most people who know me know that I am a pretty crazy dogless dog lady. At one point today I literally ran outside so I could pat a pair of sausage dogs. I have a problem.

Ahem. Moving on... 

Almost.

Nigella

Turns out my housemate pervy Nigel is actually a lady possum, with a cute clingy baby to boot. Still doesn't make eating my spent flowers okay, Nigella... 

(Note the two sets of laser beams locked on to the camera).

Procrastigardening

Procrastigardening (verb); A form of procrastination less fattening than procrastibaking, and a common distraction from less fun tasks needing to be undertaken in the Treehouse.

Foster Puppy Mission: Sydney

This little lady is Clover and she does not yet have her own people, but she soon will. So for now, KD and I were her temporary humans and transported her up to Sydney for an eye operation that required a vet specialist, who was not available at home. The trek began in the depths of the night, leaving home at 5am and the first hour and a half being virtual darkness. Not so fun, though there was an impressive highway sunrise.

We seized the opportunity to eat some delicious foods at Suzy Spoons vegetarian butcher, who once again did not fail to deliver a spectacular meal. KD had not yet been there before so it was a nice surprise for her.

That scrambled tofu was the best I've ever tried, and was so uniquely flavoured with lemongrass. I would never have picked that myself, but it was a total success. I could have eaten that meal ten times over and still be impressed.

This sign made me laugh so I embarrassed KD by stopping to take a picture 

Anniversary

I am privileged to know some pretty swell humans. Friday was another lovely day filled with cackles from my fabulous colleagues, and complete with a surprise Moxom and Whitney bouquet I received in the afternoon. The evening was spent eating a spectacular dinner and a lengthy Friday night shop with my darling friend who's blazing trails in Melbourne these days. We played a bit of dress ups (I miss the fun of female housemates in times like this, now shape up Nigel!) and then hung at the Treehouse till way too late. I had an unexpected call from some of my lovely cousins who've decided to go vegan as a family (yay!), and it was such a pleasant surprise speak with them.

...And although the first 6 hours of my birthday was spent like this:

Filling in a shift on your birthday ain't so bad when your lunch looks like this:

I am so grateful for the thoughtful and upbeat people I get to spend spent my time with; energising souls who make me cackle and smile.

Moxom and Whitney

 

Beautiful bouquets from some beautiful souls. I'm a lucky lass.

Tasha Fierce

I just had the pleasure of speaking with this lady on Skype. Well maybe not quite THAT lady, but she's pretty damn close. Apart from a pretty close doppelganger to that lady on the left, she's sassy, incredibly smart, independent and totally gorgeous to top it all off.

It has literally taken months for us to organise said Skype date, but (quite endearingly) this has been consistent with our friendship style - the lengthy delays and obstacles experienced in getting there have no correlation to the appreciation we have for one another.

How I miss you, Ms. Songz.  Looking forward to a kitchen dance some time soon.

Introducing.

This creature is Nigel, and he is (unfortunately) the closest thing I have to a housemate. Like many human counterparts out there, Nigel wakes me up at all hours, has a very abrasive voice, is extremely untidy and eats many things that don't belong to him. He is a cranky old soul, Mr Nigel.

Teecino evenings

On a day where there was so much buzz and excitement in the work environment, I woke up feeling about as sharp as a pillow and a gravelly voice to match. I'm hoping a big pot a teecino (coffee flavoured tea - huh?) and a night in with Girls will sort out my health woes. 

Busy Bacon Makin'

Sometimes I behave like there are thirty hours in a day. I left work at 5:30 and did a 4km run with my old amigo Lenny. Between the run and my regular Tuesday night 7:30 Walking Dead club, I snuck in some speedy cooking and made raw coconut, white chocolate and raspberry fudge (courtesy of Not Quite Nigella), and prepared some coconut flakes for their delicious bacon fate.  I shall keep you posted on their respective success.

The coconut bacon lineup. 

Beautiful Things Don't Ask for Attention

The Secret Life of Walter Mitty.

Locate copy. Watch. Love.

Thursday Night Tunes

My oldest, bestest and recently vegan lady friend came around for dinner, we made baked potatoes with Kinda Bacon, 'chicken' avocado caesar, and had whipped banana and chocolate ice cream for dessert - followed by pots of tea and numerous episodes of Girls. I do think she may be hooked. Simple nights in with a precious friend who I do not see nearly enough.

Rainy Sundays in the Treehouse

Rain is, and always has been, my favourite weather.  It replenishes my plants, cleans the air and washes all the city grime away.  It provides me the perfect justification to stay inside and catch up on all the films I have missed, or the book I haven't managed to finish. I love that a backdrop of grey clouds and an opaque sky mean the green of plants is so vivid and vibrant, and a concrete jungle looks glossy and new.

I have seized the opportunity to have a cooking bonanza, making misr wat (Ethiopian chickpea and pumpkin curry), eggplant parmigiana (par cooked then frozen, ready and waiting for a lazy weeknight dinner), plus a mushroom, bacon (of the animal friendly variety) and broccoli vegan frittata. My apartment smells like rain, spices and incense. That's not a complaint.

Now to treating myself to the long-awaited Secret Life of Walter Mitty,  plus a big pot of cinnamon and orange tea. I wish every day was as relaxing as this.

Palentines Day

Valentines Day is definitely not my favourite day of the year however 2014 was pretty spectacular. My very talented and amazing hairdresser skillfully cut off a good chunk of my hair, which had become pretty unkempt with the sun/hairdye/lack of love. I do love the new 'do, but as is always the way when you do something a little dramatic with your hair, I just feel odd, like I am missing something. Afterwards, Lady Lin came around and we rode our bikes to Sweet Bones. We had a cute little lady date with some Monteiths and a delicious polenta and grilled tempeh stack.

After successfully badgering Mr Chardonnay into coming for a drink, he joined us 'just for one'. Flash forward to 2AM dancing at Transit Bar, being the only suckers on the dance floor. Flash forward again to a very wet ride home involving a rather precarious dinking experience riding on Betsy's rear rack. I think my life may have flashed before my eyes more than a few times, but hey. Alive now. Palentines day success.

Even Lady Lin and my bikes were feeling the love. Buda and Betsy make a cute duo.