S#56: Feed Ducks
I borrowed someone else’s children for this one.
Anyone currently residing in the antipodes will observe the blue sky in these pictures and know this was not a recent picnic. (I miss the sun so badly right now.) It happened about a fortnight ago and, since I hate and fear the outdoors, wasn’t technically my idea. All good though!
Have any of the Monty Python cast died? Because if so, I think they’ve reincarnated.
The strangest thing happened during the picnic. All of a sudden a murder of crows flapped into existence, alighting in all the trees around our picnic rug and screaming, and screaming, and screaming, for several minutes. Then they all flew away.
I’m mildly surprised none of us dropped dead. It was truly weird.
Play along at home: Next time the sun comes out (like RIGHT NOW if you’re in Canberra), flee your desk and bask for as many seconds as you can. Preferably near ducks – and away from crows. (If you live in the Northern hemisphere, I hate you right now.)
Coming soon: Marshmallow gun (almost certainly this Sunday).
Rediscover Winter clothes.
Fill your house with balloons.
Make trifle. (Or, in my case, eat it.)
Op shop shopping spree.
And some surprises.
#: Put an octopus in an unexpected place
Welcome one and all to Secret # 6.
Octopi have the slinky flexibility of cats. They flollop. The tentacles are sticky, and really do wrap around anything nearby. These guys weigh over two kilos each, which is a lot of lumpy reptilian squidginess. And I could feel the slippery lump of their brains wobbling around inside their skulls. I got octopus ink on my hands, and unidentified biological matter on my clothes, skin and hair. My hands still smelled of octopus when I went to bed that night, despite the fact I’d washed them with hot water and with soap more than half a dozen times. And cut my fingernails. Right now I still have a tentacley mass lurking in the fridge, waiting for rubbish day.
That was quite a day. I could see people frowning in confusion as they past, and then their faces lighting up as they realised what was happening.
Ben (that’s his voice on the video – this was all his idea) named the smaller one Squidgy and the larger one Tentacular. These pictures are not copyrighted, so you may use them as desktops or whatever as long as you mention either this blog or “Louise Curtis”. In the next three hours I’ll begin putting ALL the photos up on a new facebook group, and I’ll put the address of it at the end of this post. The photos and video were taken at the Australian National University, outside Belconnen Library, in the city centre (the last photos involved another fountain-wade from yours truly), and in my mother’s backyard. (When my mother saw what we had in the bucket, she went “Urg!” and took a step back.)
Want more photos? http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=120950664610493
#147: Dream Diary
Ben suggested:
Keep a (g-rated) dream diary for a week, then (sarcastically)
recreate some of the more interesting incidents as photographs
I’ve been putting this off for a long time, for reasons that will become clear. So here’s a crop of four dreams from a perfectly ordinary week:
1. I was on a family holiday in which U2 was staying next door with various animals (why not?). During the course of the holiday, their elephant herd escaped into our yard. I helped by holding a terrified elephant the size of my hand. Subconscious meaning: I not-so-subconsciously look forward to having a baby (represented by my sister being in the dream, and by the delight with my incredibly tiny elephant).
2. I was pregnant, and CJ and I went together for a routine checkup (one of my more realistic dreams – prophetic even, since it’ll eventually happen). Subconscious meaning: See # 1.
4. CJ and I were at a club, sitting at a large table while a group of footballers, football managers and football media filled the chairs for dinner. One of the footballers grabbed my knee under the table and I was so startled I said nothing. Then a second grabbed my knee. At that point I stood up, and delivered the following diatribe (which I’ve produced verbatim, I’m proud to say):
“My husband is RIGHT HERE, so you must be some kind of idiot. Even if I was attracted to you – which I’m not – I wouldn’t want you groping me. Even if I liked your personality – which I don’t – I wouldn’t want you groping me. So don’t.”
CJ and I then stormed off majestically, leaving a stunned table behind us. I couldn’t help noticing that neither one of us was carrying our bags, and turned to CJ to say so.
“We’ll get them tomorrow,” he said.
“My phone –”
“Tomorrow morning,” he said.
“Okay.”
(Thus, we managed to resist spoiling our majestic flouncing.) Subconscious meaning: I dislike idiots, but like yelling at people.
4. Justin Bieber (who worked in an Aussie pizza shop) was my sidekick. Together we fought crime. Subconscious meaning: Shut up.
Tomorrow: Secret # 6 at last!
#153: Finding out what my kids will look like. . .
. . . if I marry the celebrities below:
Frodo (it could happen, dagnammit)
Faith (again, it could happen. . . with science. . .)
Elvis (SCIENCE, I tell you!)
CJ (on the basis that if I’ve heard of someone, they’re a celebrity):
Because that’s not creepy at ALL.
(Many thanks to Morphthing.com)
If you’re looking for today’s twittertale – it’s finished, so I posted it on the 26th (in its own entry, so you can just click on the “Completed Twittertale” button on the right).
Healthy weight range update: I lost two kilos this week (that’s several pounds). It hurt a LOT. One kilo to go. All I have to do is HOLD ON.
Fish update: Sherlock ATE one of the other fish. I just bought him a more specialised food, so hopefully it won’t happen again. Other than that, the fish seem happy. They’ve already outlived the last lot, so things are probably going to be fine.
STOP PRESS!!!!! Secret # 6 has HAPPENED. I’ll be posting ALL the details and pictures and video on Sunday.
In the meantime, here are some (probably misleading) clues: It took five hours (mostly because we did a very thorough job of it). I have blisters, a broken shoe, and a broken thumbnail. I carefully wiped down the camera afterwards. A blue bucket played a pivotal role. One word: squidgy. Today also involved public places, and taking off my shoes.
S#59: Otherwise Known As. . .
Steff Metal (http://steffmetal.com/101-ways-to-cheer-yourself-up/) said:
Decide on new nicknames for all of your friends. Send them a text or email to let them know their new nickname, and call them that from now on. The more outrageous the nicknames, the better.
I have had many nicknames over the years: Scopes, Steffocles, Double F, Squints, Blinkin’, Blinkie Bill (I detest this), Steffy, Steffy-waffles, Titi, Dozer and Beaker (those last two gens are from my husband. Such a caring fellow.)
Nicknames make a person feel loved, like they’ve reached a new level of intimacy with you.
——————————-
So! *rolls up sleeves with evil grin* here’s the new names of all the friends featured in yesterday’s entry.
First, Ben (who was behind the camera as usual): Ben is called “Matrix Ben” after an incident with another friend. This other friend (who I’ll call Sunny, because he is) is very very happy, very huggy, and very extraverted. I once heard a conversation in which someone asked what he was like to live with, and received the reply, “Well. . . he’s naked a lot.”
He sat next to Ben one day on a rather small couch and leaned in for a hug (or quite possibly a kiss). Ben cringed back, and at the same time – through some amazing contortion – placed his sneakered foot between Sunny’s face and his own. I still don’t know how his foot got there, let alone how it got there instantaneously.
Since this move was clearly impossible in this reality, Ben is now dubbed Matrix Ben.
W has a name that he regularly finds in romance novels (seriously), so I’m just leaving that one alone. (I should note for the record that he doesn’t find it by reading said romance novels, but by other people telling him about it.)
The girl who isn’t me is quite clearly a ninja, based on my observations. She is the quietest person I’ve ever met (despite appearances in the video). Therefore, I’m giving her a ninja nickname. This is it:
Didn’t see anything? That’s because the nickname is BEHIND YOU!!
The other darkly bearded fellow shares a first name with my partner, CJ. This causes endless confusion as I find it quite easy to tell when I’m talking to my husband and when I’m talking to the other one. But no-one else does. So yesterday I began referring to them as “the one I’ve seen naked” and “the one I haven’t seen naked”. Therefore, CJ is now called “Naked”. You would think that “the other one” could then be referred to by his own name. But no. It doesn’t work like that.
Last night, W addressed a cupcake in rather affectionate terms just before eating it. “The other one” was directly in front of him, and said, “Why thank you.” At that moment, he became “Cupcake”.
I tested out the new nickname in the supermarket later, when Cupcake was walking away. From a distance of about twenty metres, he stopped in his tracks, turned around, and said, “Yes?”
Nickname test: successful.
Leaving aside those in the video, my pregnant sister is now called Bigbelly, as an honorary pregnancy name. (You’re Welcome.)
So, all of the video people are accounted for except one. Me.
Go on, make me a nickname. I dare you. You can base it on Louise Curtis, Felicity Bloomfield (my less child-safe alter ego) or some wacky feature of my personality or appearance. Or just make something up from thin air. This is the easiest “play along at home” ever. Don’t be shy!
Dance in a Supermarket
NB: The completed twittertale “And then I woke up” is in its own post directly below this one.
Some weeks ago, W suggested I should go and dance in a supermarket.
I gathered a bunch of friends (all of whom have an interest in ballroom dancing) and a bunch of hats (from W himself – yes, all of them) and convinced them that we should all go dancing together. Everyone got dressed for the night-time walk to the shops, then donned our chosen hats and opened the front door.
Rain.
High-quality hats and rain don’t mix, so the fate of the evening looked grim. One person went home, leaving us with a broken couple.
The rest of us clutched our precious hats to our chests and ran through the rain laughing in a manic fashion and quoting “Girl Genius” (“. . . and if you lose your hat, it is a BAD PLAN.”)
We crammed into two rain-soaked cars, drove to the shopping centre feeling like Amazon explorers, and performed another mad dash across a supermarket carpark. And then we were inside, and hatted, and there was no music! We wandered shiftily until we found the best spot, the music came on, and W bravely began to dance. (He’s the good-looking dark-bearded twenty-something one. . . in the middle.) Observe the terror on my face:
But I found my courage eventually:
During the course of this video, I swung wildly between delight and embarassment (wouldn’t you?)
When we’d danced enough, we exited the store – with our groceries, of course.
The night swung from possibility to despair to adventure to silliness and ultimately triumph. With bananas.
Tomorrow: S#59: Formerly Known As. . . (there shall be nicknames for everyone in the video).
I’m also currently working on a suggestion Ben made – and I quote –
Make a gun(s) that fires Marshmallows at high speed (could be
easily done several ways…)
#6: Steal a plant
I just committed a crime. Don’t tell anyone.
The penalty for theft in Australia is up to seven years in jail.
You’ve probably heard of “black gold” (oil), white gold (for jewellery) and yellow gold (that’d be the normal type). For many months now, I’ve lusted after green gold – mint leaves. I discovered earlier this year that you can buy bunches of mint leaves from the supermarket for an exorbitant price. Later on, I discovered that this wonderful stuff can also be accurately described as a noxious weed. Since I am far better at growing weeds than plants, I saw my chance.
I know at least three people who have mint growing in their back yards (two of them unwillingly). But hardened criminals like myself are bone lazy, and prefer crime to the hassle of gainful employment (such as, in this case, politely asking my mother-in-law for a clipping). Walking past the heady scent of my neighbour’s mint plant week by week was sending me mad with gold fever.
So, as I sat down to write this morning in my usual workday attire (ie, what I wore to bed last night) I couldn’t take it any more. With not even a pause to put on proper clothes, brush my teeth, or actually wear weather-appropriate shoes, I exited the house and nonchalantly committed my crime – theft of one and a bit mint plants. And by “nonchalant” I mean that when a falling leave crackled nearby, I jumped guiltily. Twice. (I blame the season of autumn for acting suspicious.)
It was surprisingly easy to pull the green gold out of its pot by the roots. I also cut off a smaller bit as a backup.
The instant I reached the safety of my hideout, I took photographic evidence of the crime (since it was raining, I also have somewhat blurry glasses). Do you think my beanie looks shifty? I do.
I put the backup sprig into a glass of water on a sunny windowsill (as I’ve seen real gardeners do), and planted the other on my front porch. Aren’t they cute?
My hands smell wonderful now. I keep sniffing my fingers (again, not suspicious behaviour at ALL). And since the aforementioned sunny shelf is the top shelf of my desk, my whole workplace smells minty-fresh and green and alive. Kids, crime is GREAT.
Incidentally, today the extremely vibrant and delightful Alexandra hosted a guest post from me (as far as I can tell, her site is PG at worst, but as always I make no guarantees). http://unicornsforsocialism.com/2010/05/24/because-gods-need-social-networking-too/. I hope she’s not implicated when the fuzz comes to take me to the slammer.
Play along at home: Next time you’re in a supermarket, find the fresh mint leaves and smell them. Make sure you handle them, so your hands smell marvellous for the rest of your day. Alternatively, steal and/or grow your own (wise people grow mint in pots), or pick a different herb to grow (either outside or near a window where the smell can fill your days). Let me know if you do, so I can feel like I’m making the world minty-fresh.
Tomorrow is very exciting!
Tomorrow I’ll be posting pics and video from an event that took place last night – my friend W’s suggestion: Dance in a Supermarket.
#10: Anticipation
I believe happiness comes from having most – but not all – of what you want. As humans, we’re built to need work, but we need our work to have a point, whether it’s re-tiling the bathroom or bringing forth the zombie apocalypse. We also need at least some of our goals to be definitely attainable rather than a slender hope. (As an unpublished author, I’m an expert when it comes to slender hopes.)
So here’s some awesome things I’m looking forward to, that I know are really going to happen:
Hot air balloon ride (next year).
Second honeymoon (next year).
Celebrating random holidays (I’ll be celebrating five thousand writing hours in about a month).
Growing a mint plant (I think I’ll steal a sprig from my neighbour when they’re out).
Making my version of mint julep – with my own mint leaves.
Re-eating yum cha (when I attempted to post the blog about yum cha awesomeness, the internet ate it. Thus, I shall have to do it again).
Secret # 5 (wouldn’t YOU like to know!)
Silly slippers.
Visiting my godparents.
Eating my husband’s much-acclaimed trifle for the first time (even though I’m almost certain I won’t like it).
Visiting my grandpa in October (technically, I’ll be visiting my ready-to-pop sister at the time, but they live in the same city).
Horseback riding for my birthday (next year). I’ve been wanting to go for a proper ride (as I’ve done in the past) for ten years!
Organising a zombie walk.
Going to the coast with my family (including my pregnant sister) in two months’ time.
Visiting a lighthouse while at the coast.
Secret # 6 (the supplier has now told me “stop calling us; we’ll call you” – but I’m still going to call them)
Being inside the healthy weight range (in a few weeks’ time).
Eating ravioli for lunch (in about 35 minutes).
I really don’t know what awesomenesses I’ll be doing this week. Right now I’m hungry and tired and grumpy, and I just counted five burn marks on my arms (note to self: stoves create heat). But after writing the above list, I feel a lot better. Today’s not so bad after all – and the future is shiny.
Play along at home: What are you looking forward to? If there isn’t anything twinkling pleasantly in the back of your mind, make something up – invite a friend over more than twenty-four hours in advance, or make a plan to eat chocolate in exactly one week’s time. Or reserve a great book at the public library. Tell people exactly what you want for your birthday this year, or make your own excellent plans in the spaces between everyone else’s. Read blogs you enjoy, and/or track down someone online who makes you laugh, and renew the friendship. Write a naughty and/or self-indulgent plan here in the comments, so you HAVE to do it or you’ll be a liar.
S#70: Light a Fire
Fire. It creates heat and light, and makes food taste better (and kill you from food poisoning way less often). It’s romantic, it’s primeval, and it’s even more strangely compelling than daytime TV.
Last weekend CJ and I went to a party. The vast majority of my friends are geeks (especially fantasy and computer geeks), but this friend is a petrolhead. He owns a 72 Monaro, and he and his girlfriend are fascinated by all things mechanical. At the same party there was a beautifully-kept 64 Valiant (which will mean a very great deal to some readers – I confess, it WAS beautiful), a two-person bike steered with a stick, and another bike with off-centre wheels (which literally bounces as you ride it – my friend made it just for fun).
Naturally, with so much manly energy about, fire happened. I confess I rather enjoyed watching the men take on ironically deep voices and advise each other on the best wood, structure, etc. (I LIKE men.) Unlike so many similar scenes, this fire caught immediately and burned well.
Best of all, it was wonderfully warm.
Play along at home: Light a fire. You know you want to. All you really need is matches and paper. Or, if you’re truly slack, a candle. But I recommend burning more than that. (Side note: When I finished uni, I celebrated by burning all my text books and toasting marshmallows over the flames. I highly recommend you do the same.)
#150: Wear a Tiara
While looking for Winter clothes in the mighty I-can’t-even-remember-what-I-shoved-in-there-last-September drawer, I discovered my tiara. How could I not immediately choose to wear it? I wore it to a friend’s party, to civic, and to work (to which my student said sarcastically, “Pff. Nice TIARA.”)
Play along at home: Self-explanatory. Bonus points for boys.
Tomorrow: Sarcastic dream diary (hopefully)
Felicity Banks 