Artistica Eclectica

It's been a big week with this full time working thing going on.

On the week end we just seem to go very, very fast catching up on laundry and reconnecting with the offspring and maybe sneaking in something just a little special to make it all feel worthwhile.

Last week the girls and I nipped over to the Tennyson Powerhouse park to check it out. There was much swinging of child and skating of board to be had. Sometimes standing and pushing a swing for an indeterminate amount of time can be quite therapeutic for both the swing-er and swing-ee.

Below is the motto of a local school that has left its mark there. No banging on about success and winning and achieving, just being the best we can be. Says it all really. Might have to print this one out for the fridge.

It seems the new job sometimes requires me to go to GOMA during my work hours to supervise and further peruse the art. You know how I feel about GOMA. Did I mention that this job really suits me?

This is a teeny tiny canvas of a huge room of many other teeny tiny canvases that all put together form a narrative about a dessert.

This one just draws me in every time. It's big and lush and bold.

Meanwhile as this was happening Lala was dreaming of running off to join the circus. She has since reconsidered and will stay on in the north wing of the farmhouse as she pursues her dream of aerial greatness. 

Best thing about Lala's circus class? It's down the road from some lovely galleries and Matt Blatt.Yes,  I know it's repro and not high end but with five children my end will only be getting lower and lower. So I will squint and enjoy the repro as much as the real deal.

Where do you stand on that whole debate?

The classes are also down the road from a most spectacular patisserie. Lairy lured me in and tempted me with tiny quiches of the addictive variety. Even the patisserie had some good paintings in it. It's a theme I tell you, a sign... That new red bag is a souvenir from GOMA with a wistful Francis Bacon postcard in it to remind me of the BIG retrospective in Sydney right now. Sydney-siders get your skates on and report back to us Northerners, please.

Another perk of this job is having to peruse many lovely art books. Near my desk I found a whole David Larwill book. He's an artist who I have only seen in fancy mags beside high ends. I'm thinking this pink number would look mighty fine above my bath!

 

There were more humble creative pursuits at home. Many things were aerated it seems. We fluffed up some yolks for ice cream, whites for pavlova, cream for the pav, butter and sugar for a cake.

We also made hoagies. These are soft rolls with holes poked in them and vege laden spag bog mince spooned inside. They are highly recommended as fillers for carb sucking boys. I don't know what a real hoagie is but remember it from the  Cosby show when I was a child. We stole the name for our rolls when the boys were too little to say mince roll. Plus it sounded tastier.

 The hogies fuelled up Fishy who changed codes and went over to the dark side, abandoning his soccer for a year of rugby instead. Will this be another year like the 2011, the Year of the Great Bone Crushing, where each boy broke a bone at some point within four months?

Note the kind provision of a little laundry soap for getting the blood and gore stains out of the costume. 

Maybe I should poke some calcium supplements in the hoagies this year!

Rainbow Ripple

The rug formally known as 'Biopsy Blanket' was finished last week. 

Shorty is very happy with the result because it is HERS and nobody else has owned it previously.

 It is pleasant to lie on and wrap up in and drag around the house.

                                                     

We have to learn to share it though as the next one might be a while in coming.
We shall call it 'Chemo Crochet' and it shall be Lala's friend.

A merry godmother's work is never done. Anna renamed the blanket 'Rainbow Ripple' and proceeded to knock up a pretty decent emergency spag bog with a frozen lump of mince and selected fridge accessories. Who looks this good after a day Facebook workshopping? Look at the grip on that spoon! Pound it, Anna!

One of Anna's favourite pastimes is putting chillun to bed. The self- bedder chose this friendly spot to curl up tonight.

Then we made each other very tired. It was loverly!

(P.S. For those who wanted to know, the 'recipe' for this blanket was from the Royal Sisters, I think. She calls it a 'chevron blanket'. It is one of those classic nanna patterns that my own Grandma and lots of others used to make a lot. They are still sprinkled throughout our large extended family bringing warmth and nanna love to  the offspring. The openness of the weave varies with the needle size. I didn't want it too thick living in Brisbania. This is a nice weight for here. I crochet all the ends in as I go without knotting so there is no finishing off although I may crochet a border onto it when I get some more wool.)

Lemony Snippets

* Warning! It's a long one.

A few of us got up early today for a small entrepreneurial project undertaken by Lala and her friend. Everybody pitched in to set up in front of a kindly neighbour's house.

There were big fella's. "I dub thee Sir Lemonlot. Arise!"

Positions were assumed in preparation for a stampede of lemonade quaffing locals. Hello...?

Waiting for the first 50c involved some quality control.

Just when we thought they'd be lucky to split 25c for the day, a couple of groovy young lads turned up and even gave them tips! Then another car! Hurry girls! It's rush hour!

Between customers there was discussion of product placement and yoga moves.

Suddenly it was the hoi polloi of Brisbania rolling up in character cars on their Sunday drives. If the girls didn't make a dime it was worth it to see the smiles and waves and beeps from the passers by. The lairy godmother was on stand-by for PR and damage control.

We are obliged not to discuss the following customer's identity lest it reveal her whereabouts. I can, however, share with local readers that she had a lovely russet tone to her coif and was going to an Abbot and Costello carnival.

A vinaigrette of children in various stages of losing interest.

"Don't worry. I believe I have nailed the necessary sales technique demonstrated previously. Watch me work the tutu."

Yellow sunglasses- so lemony, so chic. I tell you, these befit so many occasions.

After the last lemons were squeezed and the tablecloth rolled up, look what followed us home. "Hello, I love you. Won't you tell me my name."

She promptly made herself at home in a freshly built garden. (Sometimes when we come home things like this have just mysteriously appeared.) She hung around the big fella and I think he was almost coming around to Dog Boy Fishy's pleas of "Can we keep her, please,"......

...when this happened! Barking, squawking, big fella yelling and a man outside whistling for his lost dog. Serena and Venus seem to be from some athletic Masai chicken origin and ALWAYS jump the net. Those are some drumsticks you have there ladies. The one who wrangled the dog is fine but wishes to publicly apologise for her foolishness and hopes she will be less inclined to fly the coop next time.
Then the prodigal 12 year olds returned having apparently missed the only excitement ever to have happened here in their entire lives whilst they were away on a double sleepover. It's no fatted calf boys but it's your favourite.

Spag bog and Lairy Lemonade recipes to follow if you are so inclined. Masterchef we aint!