I know it's been a little while since I've worked hard for money. And it might seem like I have the most ridiculously luxurious life of leisure. Well I do have a wonderful life. I appreciate every minute of the comfort and freedom of our life in Townsville. But also, I work. Though you don't see it, and though there's not often a pay packet to show for it, I do work quite hard during the week. I'm trying to teach myself writing, story-telling, crafting and creativity, in amongst the odd part-time job or two, running our little household and keeping everything organised and tidy at home.
The wedding ceremony itself was pretty simple. Pretty short. 
First thing on the morning of our wedding, I looked out the window to see what kind of day we'd got. It was beautiful! The blue sky was shining through the trees and I started getting excited, wondering if everything might just go according to plan.
And it was slightly strange to see all these familiar people in a place so far away. I suppose it shows that we do feel isolated up here in Queensland, and it doesn't help that it could be a lot worse. I mean, it's not like we're in different hemispheres or time zones, it's just a two-hour flight. But we never get to just invite them round to our place for a homey dinner or an afternoon chat.
This weekend was ace. I spent ages lying in our glorious winter sun reading the most frivolous novel imaginable: Cheri by Colette. I mean, I haven't read it all the way through yet - does it get more serious towards the end? All I've read about so far is love affairs, luncheons and Paris apartments. Perfect fodder for a dreamless sleep. Not like that crazy-scary Wuthering Heights I was reading before.
Last week, I quit my job at the coffee shop. Things were changing there, and I thought it best to make an amicable parting while things were still amicable. 
If you are, I'm jealous. You get to see Magda's exhibition of photographs at Off the Kerb in Collingwood. 
OK. From now on, this is just a cat blog. Any mention of books, writing, movies or events outside our tiny home is strictly supplementary to the full-on coverage of our CAT.
my new winter slipper was being shredded!
In a recent rash of ordering books over the internet (what? my winter interests have been kick-started. As mentioned in the post below it’s time I turned to creative things, like cooking, gardening and cosying up our little home) I ordered this: The Hungry Girls’ Cookbook Volume 2.
At the time, I was mainly wanting to have a look at how they’d hand made the book - I think I was vaguely hoping it would inspire me to make my own. It didn’t inspire me that way - it’s too nicely done for me to get that ‘hey, I could do that too’ feeling. But it did inspire me to cook, so in some ways it has achieved what it set out to do. It’s got just twelve recipes in it, and I’ve made two of them so far - Carrot Fritters and a Quick Spanish Dinner of mixed up potato, capsicum and chorizo. And they both turned out delicious. I’m seriously looking forward to making the Nepali Dahl with Eggplant Pickle. It’s ages since I’ve eaten a lovely comforting blandish dahl. It’s a craving I get every so often, and our local indian takeaway makes it just too damn thick and tasty. Sometimes I’m after something with a whole lot less impact.
Anyway, I highly recommend The Hungry Girls’ Cookbook. It has a simple cardboard cover and it’s bound with string and staples, and the book itself has a beautiful soft smell. Its something like green tea, and it makes me think of hanging out at Jan’s place.
Is it just me, or does this bread look delicious? Like I’m really living in my rustic farmhouse fantasyland where I make everything beautifully and effortlessly by hand? As I was cutting and spreading it, I was wondering just how GOOD and SATISFIED I'd be feeling if I’d made the jam myself too, like, a year ago and then kept it in the cupboard with a little label on saying the kind of fruit and the date.
I made the bread using the same sourdough recipe that worked so well for me last year. The weather here has turned delightfully Autumny (the Townsvillians are talking about “winter”; it was a story on the news when three French backpackers got lost in our local rainforest and spent the night on a rock ledge "while temperatures plunged to 12℃”). I started up my sourdough starter a while ago, and last week I made a terrible loaf (not concentrating; put in twice as much water as I should have) so I was really pleased with how this one looked coming out of the oven. I rapped it on the bottom, and it sounded hollow. Good sign.
But. However. It tastes ...only fair to moderate. I cut the first slice right off the cooling rack, spread it with butter and then something out the window caught my eye. Maybe a bird, or a colourful butterfly. I had made it all the way out into our front yard and was looking up in a tree when I realised that I had been munching on the bread all the while. The taste of it had not even intruded into my consciousness. When have you ever eaten bread fresh out of the oven and not even realised you were doing it? I should have been thinking "MMMMMMMMmmmmmmmMMM ... delicious!" but instead all I was thinking was, "yes. It is bread that I'm eating. Chew #1. Chew #2. Swallow? OK, yeah, swallow."
What a shame. Maybe if I was a better blog-liar I would have had you believe that it tasted just as good as it looks. Time to work on that perhaps?
I bought these tulips for Hayden and for me, because we've both been working hard lately. I've been working like a whirlwind on my biggest writing assignment yet. And I know I'm hard work for Hayden when I'm all tired out and stressed.
Last week was Lily's 11th week. Just recently, she's transformed from kitten into fully-fledged miniature cat. Oh, she still does kittenish things like chasing string and playing soccer under the dining table with little screwed-up bits of paper. But now when she sees us watching her she'll stop, get self-conscious and sit up tall and neat. 
Here she is in my in-tray, waiting patiently to be attended to.
