noticed: the low clouds are moving faster than the high clouds. it looks snowy out there (it's not, its summer… for what that is worth here in christchurch. change is the only certainty… and all that).
 i am reminded of a sweet song about a bird in the snow

i am on the search for the prefect pen. i have found one suitably named Ero. i want it. i want to write postcards with real ink and use real stamps and send them to real people. this typing just isn't the same, it doesn't fill me with quiet satisfaction the way a good pen does. so, i shall make it so. i have the power to change my small world for the better.
:-D

xe

swan plant flowers. for greg.

it's all in a day's work. well, a work christmas party that is. thanks to gapfiller for the dance-o-mat experience, it was the perfect interlude between dinner and our shindig.

here, tonight.

fire on high street

soul destroying to see more of my beautiful city disappear. as if earthquakes weren't enough.
this block of high street was home to many of my regular haunts pre-quake. makes me cry.

goodnight christchurch

xe

a little story to warm the cockles of your heart.

picture this:
i'm driving home, window down, blasting a bit of country (of course). i'm in a left turning lane, when beside me pulls up a station wagon filled with hi-viz wearing dullards. i glanced across and sneered slightly before turning my attention back to my tune.
after a moment i became aware that they were yelling something at me. to be exact: "do you need a bit of cock in yer mouth?!"
..to which i replied at full volume, " i heard you didn't have one!"
so childish... so satisfying, and i laughed all the way down barbadoes st.

i'm going to go to bed so that i can wake up and drink coffee
and then i'm going to go to work early and drink coffee

pour one's heart out to someone, and pour one's heart out

Fig. to tell one's personal feelings to someone else. I didn't mean to pour my heart out to you, but I guess I just had to talk to someone. She poured out her heart to her friend.

 

 

as an aside, when i look at these pictures i laugh so hard that i dribble. no joke.

feeling a little nostalgic for past lives and other versions. how things were and how things might have been if different choices were made.
not to say that i'm unhappy now, in fact i am feeling very blessed to have this version of my life. but it's such a human thing, isn't it, to wonder. or maybe it's a me thing. maybe not everyone does this!

with love
e

today:

quiet start, with coffee
the smell of pavlova baking
planning my day


ethiopian lunch
a young woman singing jazz like a pro
and i'm missing Ants

making the most of a warm afternoon
planting tomatoes
documenting this broken town

coffee with greg
love the new C1
and the company.

reading back through the archives
laughing at myself
a little in awe of the old (young) me

my bed is calling
i'll perhaps watch a dvd,
it's an Antsless luxury







x

WHEEL!

i bought myself a pottery wheel. it's a doer-upper, at this point it works but not very well. i haven't tried making anything on it yet!  i'm excited at the thought of being able to lose myself for hours in the garage with the whirring of the wheel for company, churning out mountains of bowls! that's what i want to make, functional bowls and cups and more bowls and maybe a plate or two, but mostly bowls. i wish i knew where i had safely stashed my oxide pencil! (the one i used on the monkey bowls, if you remember those)
what sort of bowls shall i make? i had this idea that i would give away pottery gifts for christmas, but i think that may be pushing it.. only 5 weeks away, and i haven't even got it ready to start! i joined a pottery club which is in a rural area about a half hour from home, they meet on mondays and i could possibly make it there for a couple of hours after work. there are 9 kilns out there!! electric, gas, woodfired, salt, raku, anagama... so much for me to learn if i choose to! i love the idea of eventually giving up my monday at work and making it my pottery day. i'm feeling creative again!

my amanda palmer adoration is re-ignited. fuck yeah.

I thought once that I'd be a writer.
But instead I'm a reader.