if life were a movie...

and that movie was determined by the clothes you wear...

I like to think that this week it would be a Tim Burton number

not happening, jan

This is not the photo I wanted to put here. But... well. Backstory.

The boys that i live with were playing at the Espy  at one of the Sunday sessions. They wanted to see the other bands as well, so i drove all the gear down for them. (M had to work, T doesn't drive, and A was worried to start with... driving from the North to St Kilda was not something he was counting on to put him in a good mood.)

They weren't playing until 6. We got there around three, the Espy was noisy, I was uninterested, so I went for a walk.

End Backstory.

The clouds were heavy, there was a breeze that may have been referred to as "fresh", although I would have thought of it more as "cold storage" but it was lovely. And then the clouds shifted, and a heavy shaft of sunlight slammed down through the hole. It was magnificent. And I went to take a photo of it (the above was me checking the lighting settings)... and I couldn't. Because those things are always magnificent in person, but after the event, a bit like a photo of a glorious sunrise - attractive, but ubiquitous. So I savoured the moment instead - me, the breeze, my knitting, and the thousand people who thought it worth capturing.

on why svelteness is not an option

There was baklava¹. It whispered to me, cajoling.

I said "no" and stood firm.

It beguiled, begged and teased.

I said "No" and stood firm.

It pleaded, tantalised and taunted.

I said "NO" and stood firm.

"EAT ME!" it roared.

So I did.

¹Yes, I know the picture is not baklava. It was all gone before I got a shot. But a remarkably similar thing happened with the Toblerone.

green.

I finished this green cardigan about a fortnight ago, and have been wearing it fairly solidly since. Not only do I love the colour (bright, but not garish) I have managed to work out a flattering pattern for myself. What I am yet to work out is a successful method of shooting myself (that is, where it is a full shot, in focus, and my head doesn't look  lie it belongs to someone of a smaller species) A. has said he will take photos, but we haven't quite got there yet.

Even a little bit of colour makes a difference - we (myself, A and our friend B) were in the city the other day, and on the corner of Burke and Swanston there was a Social Alliance hoohah, and people were milling everywhere. I lost B, because she was little and in black, but A, with his dull green jumper peeking out from under a natty pinstripe¹ was easy to see².

 ¹It's pinstripe. "Natty" may be superfluous.

² Probably doesn't hurt that he's 6'1", either

something new

A while ago, I made a quilt.

I love it. I love the way it looks, I love the way it snuggles.
And I'm thinking that it's time for a new one. Just a little one, for the lounge. Just to play with colour, to learn a bit more.
And I saw this:

Over here
So now I have a plan.
Huzzah!

Self awareness

Recently, I bought myself a spindle (I had fibre, my wheels were >1000km away...)


I'm not very good at it yet - the spindle drops  with (admittedly, decreasing) frequency. My housemate T asked me why.

In the past, I think I may have come up with some great reasons.


Because I was trying to spin too fine a yarn for the spindle weight.
Because I was distracted by conversation.


The answer I gave?

Because I'm still a bit shit.


Maybe this is what self-awareness is.

Maybe I'm growing up.


(Fibre: Celia's Basket, BFL, Colourway: Grandma's Orchid)

Still have it

I'm not a glamourous girl.

I dress first for comfort, then for looks.
I should probably get someone who isn't me or my housemate M to cut my hair.

So, when we went to see Darren Hanlon over the weekend, and M told me the (quite attractive) guy beside us at the bar was checking me out, I was baffled. ¹

I think it must have been the knitwear.


¹and absolutely tickled.