I’m trying out the power of attraction. I have decided I want something and isn’t it funny, how once this happens, little things pop out of everywhere? Kind of like a sign.

A book handed to me and I’m told Read this, it’s fantastic. I look at the cover and see a French address.

Looking through things I’d long ago put into storage and finding a tiny picture of the Eiffel Tower, taken on the ill-fated Paris trip of 2002.

France may hold bitter memories but I am prepared to give Paris another chance. I think it’s only fair.

Looks like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, doesn’t it? Well. Woodrow and I are not on speaking terms at the moment (he is referred to by his full name when he is in trouble). My lovely baby nephew passed gastro onto seven family members as part of his gracious entry to the world, so while the household was completely incapacitated and comatose, Woodrow had to entertain himself. Apparently, chewing one of my favourite leopard print heels was such a ruddy good time, he went back and chewed up the other one. It’s been almost a week and I’m still muttering under my breath and shooting murderous glances in his direction. The fact that they hurt my feet like a bitch is neither here nor there.

 

Odessa sent me a postcard from her recent road trip to Oregon! Thanks so much, Odessa! When she posted that she was heading up that way, I lost my shit because Portland, Oregon was where The Goonies was filmed – my favourite movie off all time, bar none. Odessa didn’t make it up as far as Astoria, but the pictures are beautiful. So foggy. And by the way, Odessa has quite possibly the tiniest and most beautiful handwriting of anyone in the world.

I’m on school holidays now for two weeks, except I’ve got so much work to do that it’s making me cry. Serves me right, really, for being lazy and disorganised. It scares the pants off me that there are 99 days left of the year. Wuh? Insanity.

Tonight I’m off to have a farewell drink for a colleague who is moving on, then to a barbeque for my cousin’s birthday. Tomorrow night, I’m going to watch a band that my other cousin is considering having for his wedding. I’m saying I’m not going to be drinking much at all, but I have zero willpower, especially after a particularly enjoyable drink in good company. We shall see.

I’m also praying (and crossing all fingers, toes and eyes) that Hawthorn open a can of whoop-ass on Collingwood in tonight’s preliminary final and make it through to next week’s AFL Grand Final. That would be good.

What have you got planned?

gaol

I love that fact that part of one of the University of Ballarat’s campuses is a former gaol. High, thick brick walls, heavy iron gates and a creepy-looking watchtower.

The gaol was built in the mid-1800s and included a connecting tunnel from the courthouse for the prisoners. The gaol was demolished in after its closing in 1961 but there’s no mention of whether the tunnel still exists. I want to know! This tells me nothing.

One of the girls in class today said apparently prisoners were buried in the courtyard beyond the first picture’s gates. Buried standing upright. Allegedly, it was to prevent them from ever being a rest, even in death. I’m not sure if this is a myth in a town that saw so much action in the 1800s or if it’s actually true, but I reckon it’s a bit rough to have to stand for eternity. I start bitching after about twenty minutes on my feet.

I always think it’s a little bit ironic that as bratty, self-important teenagers, my friends and I would complain that being at high school, a place none of us wanted to be at, was like being in prison. Now that I’m at school because I really want to be, I go to school in a former gaol.

Also something that my seventeen-year-old self would have loved: just across the way from the gaol gates is another building. The Brewery Building. Yep, I also go to school in an old boozer. This pleases me. A lot.

introductions

You guys, this is my brand new nephew.

Darcy Aiden.

He was born yesterday morning at 9.12 after forty-five minutes of labour. Minutes. He weighed 7lbs 10oz.

He has a full head of black hair under that little pixie hat. (Babies with lots of hair freak me out a little bit.)

He was born with a bout of gastro, poor bambino, but is recovering well and is otherwise fine.

He is perfect.

I love him.

happy

We got a goggie. His name is Woody. Woody the goggie. He has a huge smile.

He’s a Rhodesian Ridgeback cross Australian kelpie, about eighteen months old and was a rescue dog. The soft squeaky carrot we gave him was his first toy. Ever. Breaks my heart. But along with the carrot, he now has a squeaky duck and a squeaky fox. He adores them. I adored him too until he peed up the side of my car. He’s good with my niece and nephew and can jump fences like a motherfucker.

 

The awesome Sarah of cracks in the pavement sent me a friendship bracelet which she had made herself. I love it. They remind me so much of summer for whatever reason.

 

It was sent in a blue airmail envelope, was accompanied by a lovely note written on the back of a quirky card that features rocky cliffs, military men standing on yellow toothbrushes and a bottle of beer.  All of my favourite things.

 

My brother’s wife is due to have a baby in the next three weeks so I’m going to be an aunty for the third time. It’s very exciting.

 

My friend, Alex, is conducting a survey about modern romance. If you can spare ten minutes, head to her blog, Caterpillar Contemplations, and follow the link. I know she would really appreciate it.

 

I’m reading One Day by David Nicholls. I’m only halfway through and it’s made me cry a few times already. I doubt I’ll bother to see the movie though because Anne Hathaway is nothing like I’m picturing Emma to look like.

 

Things are good. The weather is starting to improve. Blue skies and warm spots in the sun. It is a promise of what is still to come and it makes me happy. I paid my debt off in half the time expected which makes me ecstatic. I hate owing money. Centrelink can kiss my arse. Uni is really holding my interest this semester and that just makes life so much easier.

 

Happy.

an offering.

 

I finished my latest essay in the early hours of this morning. Five am, to be precise. Repeated playing of this song, Video Games, by Lana Del Rey kept me going. It’s sexy and nostalgic and slightly sinister-sounding. It takes me away to places in time I’ve never been to (possibly not the best song to be listening to while trying to write a film analysis but whatevs).

I’ll be back maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow, with a proper post. I’ve been a fair-weathered blogger of late but I’m bursting at the seems with ideas for posts. Thanks for sticking around. x