#123: Yum Cha
This is another idea from the sweetness that is http://the-creamy-middles.blogspot.com.
I moved the article here, for money 🙂
Play along at home: Go to yum cha (I went to Ginseng in the Hellenic Club) but remember it’s usually a lunch thing, and not happening all the time. Alternatively, you can make your own by buying the dumpling wrappers at an Asian grocer and filling them with whatever seems good to you (I recommend a mix of pork and chicken mince, with soy sauce). Then steam or fry them, and eat!
I haven’t forgotten Secret # 6, don’t worry.
Also coming soon – a guest post from Emmy Lennevald.
So. . . that reverse burglary thing. . . here’s another, better clue:
#124: Frolic in a Fountain
This is inspired by http://the-creamy-middles.blogspot.com. Thank you!
At the beginning of the day, I was scared the cops would take me down and/or put me in the slammer/big house/bad man can for today’s dastardly deed. When I looked at the colour of the water (and saw no glimpse of the bottom) my fears changed.
I had thought ahead and invited Canberra’s Master of Sarcasm, Ben. I told him to wear his most frolicsome attire. He did.
As you may have noticed, it’s raining. The day went from sunny to a thunderstorm (during exactly this period of time), then sunny again (immediately afterwards, although parts of the road were flooded). In this pic, you can see it’s a sunny day, with rain in the middle – and only in the middle.
When we reached the fountain, I passed the camera to the faithful Ben and headed bravely into battle. (Please note: I’m usually much manlier than I may appear in this clip. And I really was concerned that there might be some form of marine life lurking beneath the surface. I have frog fear.)
Pausing only to pay tribute to “La Dolce Vita”. . .
(http://www.independent.co.uk/multimedia/archive/00088/9295098_88665t.jpg)
I stepped under the spray for a properly frolicsome picture.
Shortly afterward, we fled the scene. I noticed as we walked away that I’d injured myself in the pursuit of awesomeness. My leg was cut, and I had a long trail of blood running down my leg and pooling in my left shoe.
Did I mention the water was green?
My skin, hair and clothes became increasingly itchy and flollopy on the way home, but it was DEFINITELY worth it. I was wet through and smelly, but exhilarated.
Play along at home: Find a fountain, and go frolic in it!
Tomorrow’s awesomeness plan: Share good news.
#131: Take a nap
Today my car is broken (despite having a major service under two weeks ago), and needs a new part.
Today I went to the shops (because we were utterly out of bread) for a “few things” and ended up spending $100. (I looked at the receipt to figure out what happened, and realised that most of it was accounted for by kitty litter, toilet paper, and sanitary pads. So we pretty much just need to cease bodily functions. Stupid bodily functions.) I also forgot to buy bread.
I need to edit three novels, write a twitter tale, and wade through a very unappealing book (“Moreta: Dragonlady of Pern” by Anne McCaffery, who can write well but didn’t).
So I lay down on the couch, pulled my patchwork doona over me, and fell asleep. It was divine.
Play along at home: When’s the last time you had an afternoon nap? Find a sunny spot and enjoy doing nothing (whether you sleep or not). Bonus points if you:
1) Have a patchwork quilt, or an especially soft blanket.
2) Have an assignment due tomorrow/yesterday.
3) Are within sight of a cat. Cats are the experts, after all.
Coming soon:
#124: Frolic in a fountain (thanks to http://the-creamy-middles.blogspot.com)
#56: Spread good news
#95: Secret # 4
S#63/6: Live Music at King O’Malley’s Irish Pub
#132: Try, try again (after an epic fail)
S#63/7: Cellist at ABC’s “Sunday Live”
NB: For newbies: The letter “S” before a number indicates it came from here:
s#63/5: Duntroon Military Band
After three seconds, I understood why parents buy violins, tubas and – yes, even drums – for their children. This was an awesomeness activity that literally had all the bells and whistles.
During one piece a grey-haired man from among the nine percussionists played both a gong (one of two) and a bicycle bell. (It was later mentioned that he is one of about ten conductors that have led this marvellous orchestra since 1910.) That piece was called “Circus Ring” and it was aptly named. There were some very silly whistles involved.
As a military band, the players wore uniforms of crisp red and black, and the brass section gleamed like gold. They were also one hundred percent professional, with the kind of unison the aforementioned parents will never hear again. It was glorious! And so LOUD! I barely noticed the grand piano tucked away in a corner, but I certainly took notice of the drums and brass when they spoke.
Another piece was called “Lonely Beach” which was about an American soldier dying alone while surrounded by other soldiers during the attack on Omaha Beach. When the music began, I enjoyed the sound of crashing waves but was slightly disappointed that the band was using a CD instead of just their own music. Except they weren’t. The ocean sound was made by the trumpets (no, I don’t know how). The music interweaved tragedy (a single oboe playing its own melody) and military might. At the crescendo, two more large drums joined with the largest in pounding the beach with shells – from all around (the extra two were placed in the wings), and definitely NOT in 4/4 time.
Play along at home: Go see a band. Any band. Or dust off the flute you’ve got stashed in the basement and spend just half an hour remembering what it was like to make music. Or wait until your housemates are elsewhere and play the saucepans with a wooden spoon – why not?
s#63/4: The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus
Who needs hallucinogens when you have this film?
This was quite a strange film. I saw it with two friends, and between the three of us we figured out MOST of the plot. Wikipedia filled in the rest (and kudos to whoever wrote that. . . presumably someone who asked the writers a whole lot of detailed questions).
For the first third of the film I was enthralled. For the second third I was becoming impatient with having too many mysteries going on. In the last third, I was lost – but still enjoying the stunning visuals, costumes and sets.
Doctor Parnassus, his best friend Percy, his daughter Valentina, and Nice Young Man Anton travel together in a wonderfully shabby and elaborate caravan/stage, tempting passers-by to venture into the world of the imagination through the mirror. The tiny down side is that all who venture inside are given choices. The right choice leads to joyful illumination (that’s not the down side). But if you make the wrong choice, you get blown up (seriously). Fundamentally, if you are imaginative you are good and if you make ordinary choices, you belong to the devil (take that, public service). The devil is played by Tom Waits (and usually called “Mr Nick). It’s worth knowing that he doesn’t lie, and is faithful to his wagers. (That helps with understanding the plot.)
The basic plot is that Doctor Parnassus has a gambling problem – he and the devil have made numerous wagers in his thousands of years of life, and because of a previous deal the devil gets to keep Valentina (his daughter) from the day she turns sixteen. This devil also has a gambling problem, however, and bets Doctor Parnassus that audience members travelling through the mirror will belong to him (rather than the doctor). First to five souls wins Valentina (who of course doesn’t know any of this). Which means the show needs to get audience members. . . something they seriously lack.
The plot is complicated by the addiction of Heath Ledger’s character, Tony, who may or may not be evil (but is a GREAT hustler), and (like Anton) falls for Valentina (who, having saved his life, falls for him too).
That’s all you need to know, and it’s plenty more than I knew.
The film is M (I think), and I do want to see it again (if only for the pleasure of understanding roughly what’s happening this time). If it wasn’t for “Avatar”, this film would definitely have won best art direction/visuals. There were a couple of moments of very poor acting, but otherwise the acting was great.
Bizarrely, none of the film’s weirdness was due to Heath Ledger’s sudden death. It was honestly written that way from the start (including the obsession with death). The methods used to deal with his death actually (arguably) add to the film. The actors who stand in for him are all friends of his.
S#63/3: The Front Cafe Gallery (and twitter)
For today’s “new thing” I visited the Front Cafe Gallery in North Lyneham (Canberra, Australia), which I’d walked past but never visited. I’d read online that a photographer named Beth Jennings was exhibiting this week (until 27 April, in fact), and I walked in with a little trepidation but an open mind.
Beth Jennings is an extraordinary artist. The gallery itself is a single (not very big) room adjoining the cafe, and I was alone. There were perhaps ten pictures hung on the walls, and each one mattered. I took away more from those ten pictures than I usually take away from a full-size gallery. One made me laugh, another almost made me cry, and the rest were fascinating. My overwhelming sense was of a very human warmth behind each perfectly observed picture.
The pictures were taken on a road, from a camel’s back, and through the window of a locked house. One photo was of footsteps in the desert the author stumbled across on holiday, another was of graffiti on a wall, and a third captured a woman dancing to the pulse of pizza-shop neon lights. I suspect that if I ever met Beth Jennings, I would like her very much.
Her web site is www.bethjennings.com.au
————————————————–
“BRIDEZILLA” tale so far:
1.
It’s pay day, so I buy pillows. Luckily my wedding dress makes a good maternity dress. I hope this plan works. Tomorrow, here I come.
2.
I dress as a VERY expectant bride and go to the bakery store. As I order a huge pile of hot cross buns, I put one hand to my giant stomach.
*
“Oh you poor dear!” says the matronly type I’ve been observing for days. “Don’t bother paying for those buns.”
*
She winks, “And may I STRONGLY recommend entering our restaurant-dinner-for-two competition?”
I obey her while silently applauding my act.
3.
Today I’m a goth bride with heavy eye-makeup and blood-red feathers on my neckline. I mingle in the bar before Amanda Palmer’s concert.
*
Amanda comes out, hugs me, then takes in my full outfit. “Congrats,” she says – “And you’re NOT paying – or your fiancé, wherever he is.”
*
Being a goth bride rocks. It’s even better than yesterday’s pregnancy. I’ve never enjoyed a concert so much – or been given so much beer.
4.
I promised my daughter a huge pile of Easter eggs – but I also promised she could continue at her school. So I dress her as my flower girl.
*
Easter eggs: Check. Nausea: check. Chocolate smears on May’s face: check. Getting chocolate for a flower girl at Easter is almost too easy.
*
A shrill voice cuts through my pleasure – my ex-bridesmaid, Cherie. “Anna! Did Rob come back and marry you after all?”
“Uh. . . sure. Yep.”
5.
I’m embarrassed after lying to Cherie, so today I go for the dumped bride look. My mascara runs beautifully, and I get more hot cross buns.
*
As I’m lugging a garbage bag of buns to my car, one of the bakery girls comes and helps me. She says, “Wait a second, do I recognise you?”
*
I shake my head, but she says, “Yes! I saw you dumped on YouTube. . . but that was a month ago. What the. . .?”
I flee.
6.
Today I dress as a mum. An emotionally and financially stable mum. I try to arrange my stockings so the holes are hidden inside my shoes.
*
“We’ve been making allowances because of your. . . incident. . . a month ago. But we must have next term’s fee by the end of this month.”
*
After the meeting, I go give May a hug. Her teacher stops me and asks for my number.
“Oh no! What did May –”
“Nothing. I want to call YOU.”
7.
I eat hot cross buns, and ask my boss for a raise. Neither goes down well.
*
When May gets home, I interrogate her about her dark-haired, dark-eyed teacher.
She says, “He’s nice. I got to be the queen in story time.”
8.
I get the card for the free dinner for two at a real restaurant. Yay! Less than an hour later my landlord “drops by”. Uh-oh.
*
May’s teacher calls, and arranges to pick me up on Saturday. My heart’s fluttering so hard, I can’t eat my dinner (of hot cross buns).
9.
May dresses in her best dress for our dinner of Real Food. I wear a skirt. They greet us with champagne. “Where’s the other newlywed?”
*
“Uh. . . he had to work,” I say. They hustle us to our highly beflowered table and tell us to order anything we want. We do.
*
May gets them to make her a hamburger. I have a huge pile of meat and a giant salad. Neither of us eats our bread rolls.
10.
I re-use my pillows to make myself an overweight bride, and take May with me with only an hour to spare before Jack comes to fetch me.
*
We go to a child care centre. I ask, “Can you fit her in? The reception’s about to start and my normal babysitter quit. Today!”
*
“Of course we can,” the staff say, “and don’t you dare pay!”
My date is wonderful. Jack is good company and the food is DIVINE.
11.
I shave my eyebrows to become a more lucrative faux bride, and go shopping. I’m about to graciously accept free Docs when I see Jack!
*
Jack! Shopping as I scam! Disaster! I duck behind the nice lady’s desk, biting my nails in terror. Has he already seen me?
*
The lady gives a commentary on Jack’s passing. “The hot guy’s trying on sunglasses. . . now he’s going away. He’s gone!”
I flee the scene.
12.
My landlord says, “Pay your rent by Wednesday, or I’ll have you evicted.”
I flaunt my Doc Martens and say breezily, “No prob. See you then.”
13.
May and I spend the first day of her holidays sorting our possessions into “Sell” and “Keep”. I get $3 for four books.
*
We’ve tried ebay and twelve different friends, but oddly no-one will buy May’s lifesize poster of Edward Cullen. Go figure.
*
I eat lunch with Jack. He doesn’t mock my eyebrows, but says, “Can we have dinner Friday – with May?”
“YES! Er, that’d be nice.”
14.
I fake receiving an SMS break-up at the service station and get a free tank of petrol. Nice. My eyes are getting tired from fake crying.
*
May and I put everything we can’t live without into our car and go camping. I don’t think she believes it’s really a holiday.
*
We go swimming in the creek and May finally relaxes and starts to laugh. For dinner, we roast our hot cross buns over the fire.
15.
Pay day. I’d need three more to pay school fees, and there’s only one more this month. But I have a plan. Today we buy food – sort of.
*
Eggs for protein and zucchini for vegetable matter. Somehow, toasting zucchini isn’t the same as toasting marshmallows.
16.
For our dinner date with Jack we eat roast lamb with gravy and pumpkin and potatoes. May doesn’t eat the zucchini, and neither do I.
*
The night is perfect. It’s even kind of fun to pretend to go into our old house before sneaking around the corner to our car.
[the story so far appears each Friday]
#129: Fish and Chips
So once again I didn’t achieve the planned awesomeness due to illness (it should get better from here on in, though, and I WILL finish a full seven New Things these holidays). Instead I dragged myself to a nearby fish and chip shop and ate sweeeeeeet delicious lard.
Mmmmmm.
Play along at home: Eat something you shouldn’t*.
Tomorrow: Cafe gallery at North Lyneham (not Tillies, the other one).
*Keep it non-toxic, kids!
In the meantime: You’re familiar with my cat Ana, who spends her days (1) overturning my rubbish bin (2) falling off things, and (3) posing for photos. This is the other one, who spends her days glaring from the top of the cupboard, and meowring in annoyance if you dare to open the cupboard door. Every so often she feels like taking a little sun. Her name is Indah, and she is twelve years old. She is absolutely awake in these photos (deciding on a dignified indifference rather than her usual paparazzi-fighting technique of running away).
S#63/2: The National Carillon
The article has been moved here – and if you visit the article, I get paid for it.
#128: Cheese Party
Observant readers may notice that “cheese party” and “self-defence class” are not the same thing. I was sick today, so I’m using awesomeness I prepared earlier. Specifically, last Saturday.
Many of the awesome items on my various lists are the kind of thing that people think of like so: “Hey, wouldn’t it be cool if I. . . nah, I shouldn’t.” This is firmly one of them, for the simple reason that it costs moolah.
So. Cheese. Fun to say, funner still to eat. I wanted to go WAY over the top, so I bought some cheese myself, and also asked each guest to bring a specific type (they got to take home the leftovers, or swap with someone else). In total we ended up with:
Brie, camambert, edam, havarti, gouda (with caraway seeds), swiss, gruyere (which I discovered I hate, and which made the house smell bad for days), blue (which I already knew I hated), apricot and almond, fruit nut and brandy, melon and mango – and basil cashew and parmesan dip (not all of these are in the picture). I made fondue with the swiss and gruyere, and we also had tomatoes and avocado and pepper and various types of crackers, etc. And chicken and cognac pate. And red and white wine. And butterbeer.
It was quite a night. It cost me about $40, and everyone had plenty of delicious loot to take home at the end.
Play along at home: What’s something that costs about $20 that you’ve been putting off doing because you “shouldn’t spend that on something so frivolous.” Go do it. Come back and tell us about it. If it’s especially fabulous, I’ll add it to my own list.
Alternatively, express your awesomeness solidarity by buying one or more of the cheeses from the above list.
Tomorrow: The Carillon
#110: Play an elaborate prank (aka Secret Number Two)
Two confessions: First, I did this last Saturday, not technically today.
Second, my original plan was much more elaborate, but I realised it was cruel to animals, so I didn’t do it (I was going to sneak my fish into a friend’s house and put them in his drinking glasses – inside the cupboard).
So what did I do?
Last Saturday a friend and I hosted a cheese and wine party at her house (eventually it’ll be blogged about here, but this week is full). Technically, her “house” is a two-storey flat with a balcony.
At around eleven at night, when everyone was relaxed, I went to the bathroom. No-one suspected a thing. I went quietly out the front door, hitched up my ankle-length satin skirt (really!) and climbed up the outside wall, utilising:
1) the bumper of someone’s car
2) a wheelie bin (which I moved. . . those things aren’t as solid as they look, by the way)
3) the bathroom window ledge
4) a handily-placed security light
5) the carport roof
6) a metal fence between the carport and the roof
7) the balcony.
I did all of this in silence (despite the fact that the carport roof is made of tin), and without flashing anyone (at least, not as far as I know).
When I’d rearranged my voluminious skirts, I was ready.
(Oh, did I mention it had been raining?)
The half dozen slightly sozzled friends inside all heard the knock on the door. I like to think all of them had a little moment where they wondered just who or what fantastic creature enters through the second storey door.
They came and opened the door (I noticed it was the menfolk who actually did the deed), and their faces were a delight to see. They refused to let me in until I explained how I’d done it.
Life is better when there’s the occassional hint of the surreal.
Thanks once again to http://wordgardening.blogspot.com for inspiring today’s awesomeness.
Play along at home: Wear a fake moustache to work (extra points if you’re a girl), or remove an item of furniture from your sister’s room (minus points if you upset her). Serve someone tea with pink food colouring, or walk to work on stilts. Do something just a bit off-kilter, and enjoy turning the universe slightly to the left.
Tomorrow: Self defense class at Belconnen Community Centre at 8pm.
Felicity Banks 