Adventureland

PLEASE NOTE: This blog post is not related to the movie of the same name. Adventureland, the movie, sucked. I wish to have no affiliation with it. The end.

Hanging out at City Park

Last weekend, the boy and I went to Launceston to take advantage of some el cheapo hotel rooms that I scored through work (have I mentioned how much I love working in tourism??).

I've not done much exploring in Launceston. I've driven through it, past it, and (I now realise) judged it purely on first impressions. I didn't like it. It looks grey, and busy (in comparison to the fair old town of Burnie), and I couldn't understand the appeal.

I do now. Launceston has brilliant cafes, a park with monkeys in it, a couple of fab vintage clothes shops, fantastic old buildings, a park with monkeys in it, a lovely cobblestone-type mall, and a park with monkeys in it.

Monkeys. In a park. Monkeys.

D and I drove up there after work on Friday night, and generally lived it up in the snazzy hotel room. We ordered room service, I locked his wallet and phone in the room safe while he was out of the room, and we pretended that we were rich and that this lifestyle was normal. We know how to have a good time.

On Saturday we got up early and explored. Oh, the exploring. We went to one of the best cafes that I've ever been to for breakfast (Fresh). Fresh is totally organic, and has a lot of vegetarian options (otherwise known as hippy food). It was tasty, it was funky, it was just fantabulous.

Fresh

Armchairs on the pavement outside Fresh

Chai latte *nom nom nom*

From there we went vintage clothes shopping, and I finally got to visit Nanna's. I've been wanting to visit Nanna's ever since I first saw Bianca from Goodnight Little Spoon talk about it, and it's everything that I thought it would be. Awesome clothes, chicks wearing kerchiefs serving up old-school milkshakes, laminate tables and vintage teacups - I didn't want to leave. And once they played The Smiths on their stereo, neither did D. Really, if you go to Launceston, go to Nanna's. Do it.

Drawer of fabulousness at Nanna's

Awesome decor

One of the few moments where I stopped squealing

We spent the afternoon wandering. I finally cracked under the pressure and got an i-Phone. We had a picnic in the park, and visited the monkeys. We went to the Queen Victoria Museum. We walked until my tootsies requested that we stop. We managed to fit in so much goodness, it was amazing that neither one of us imploded from a happiness overload.

My favourite portrait at the museum

On Saturday night, we made our way into town to grab some dinner from an Indian restaurant, and avail ourselves to a few beverages from a local barkeep. While we were sitting at the pub, Bianca rode past on her pink bike. I'll admit to being a bit excited. D missed the whole thing, because he was facing away from the window, and all he knew was that one moment I was sitting on the seat next to him, and then I was suddenly standing with my face smooshed against the window, talking about how cute her bike is.

And THEN (this story will end really soon, I promise) we drove down the Evandale and checked out the markets. Another thing that I can highly recommend. We didn't have much time, so we kind of just did a sweep of the area, and had very targeted browses (D - records, me - craft stuff) and then reconvened for more wandering.

Rusty old Vespa at Evandale

So, by and large, a radtacular time was had by all. All two of us. Just goes to show that you can't accurately judge a place from the drivers seat.

Girl + Boy

Mad Like A Hatter

For the month of October, Stitch 'N' Bitch are holding an exhibition in the gallery at the Wonders of Wynyard. The theme is Mad Hatter's Tea Party and it promises to be all sorts of craftacular brilliance.

I haven't mentioned it before now, because I left my entry until the last minute to do. The. Last. Minute. I finished it today (started it yesterday), and the exhibition is being installed on Monday. I hoped that if I didn't mention it, nobody would notice the tardiness *peers around suspiciously*

I've made a few little top hats, similar to the hat that I made for the March Made With Love. The original intention was to make a plethora of hats (man, I love the word plethora) and have them arranged on a cupcake stand.

Original idea: fail. It turns out that I didn't have a spare week to make a dozen hats. So, I just ended up making three, and hoping, again, that nobody notices the difference.

To see other madly-inspired projects, go here and here. Oh, and here. And check this out while you're at it.

Flagged

A couple of weeks ago I made some bunting as a custom order for a friend of mine. Her friend is having a bubba, and she wanted something for the room of the new little kidlet.

It was great to get back into the scrappy swing of things - I haven't done anything like this for a while.

And before we proceed, I apologise for the quality of the photos. It was late. I was fatigued. The lighting was not ample. I wasn't appropriately attired. The moon was in the wrong phase.

It has nothing to do with my photography skills. No-thing.

And I Was One Dollar Short

A couple of weeks ago I did a very quick trip up to Sydney. Reason: to see one of my favourite bands from back in my school days reform for a gig.

There was squealing involved.

The day threw into vast relief how very Gen Y my friends and I are, and how very Gen Z most of the other festival-goers were. I don't often have a chance to feel old - in fact, I quite regularly have the words, "You'd be too young to remember that" said to me. That's what happens when you're the youngest in a workplace - people lord their knowledge of ad jingles from the 80's over you. You just wait, 80's people... you just wait. One day I'll have an enviable knowledge of jingles. Then you'll be sorry.

Anyway, on the day:

Gen Y: Suitably attired for the scorching heat in singlets, tee-shirts and shorts.
Gen Z: Scantily attired in teeny, tiny, little itty bitty shorts and midriff tops. 90's outfits worn in an ironic fashion. Bumbags included.

Gen Y: Maintaining a moderate level of hydration with lots of bottles of water.
Gen Z: Getting drunk.

Gen Y: Applying sunscreen when sitting in the sun.
Gen Z: Getting drunk.

Gen Y: Reclining in the shade when possible, to try and stave away sunstroke.
Gen Z: Getting drunk.

I had a few soap-box moments when I wondered if their parents knew what they were doing, and then I remembered that I'm not 70. Not that there's anything wrong with being 70.

The band that we had gone specifically to see was One Dollar Short. They are a band that I saw quite a few times back in the day. My first mosh-pit was at one of their gigs, and their songs formed the soundtrack for much of those angsty adolescent days.

Their set was unreal. My friend and I kept turning to each other and screaming the lyrics, and really getting into it. They sang the old favourites, and were just all around brilliant.

And then the coolest thing happened.

A couple of hours after their set, we bumped into the lead singer, Scott. We spoke to him. We got photos with him. We gushed at him. And he dealt with it all exceptionally well.

I may even have uttered the words, "I flew from Tasmania to see you!"

I know that I'm cool.

Wayside

Now, I know that I’ve been fairly absent lately – both physically and mentally. The monkey in my brain is struggling to keep up.

The reason is because of some extra work that I took on – the graphic design work for the Bloomin’ Tulips Festival in Wynyard. For my New South Welshman friends, think Blue Mountains Winter Magic Festival with more flowers and less hippies. The work meant that I had a pretty hectic schedule for over a month, and a lot of things fell to the wayside in the meantime (like sleep, regular meals, a social life… you know, the usual).

The work itself was fun, challenging, occasionally traumatic, but overall a great experience. Posters of my design are scattered throughout the north-west and tourist information centres over the state, my ads have been in the paper and online, and I’ve even done program and ticket designs. My Mum’s pretty proud of me.

I did the design for the Mayoral Ball poster and other assorted paraphernalia. The theme was Mary Poppins, so I went with the whole chimney-sweep dance thing. I always loved that bit in the movie when I was a kidlet, and may have even danced around the lounge room in the mistaken belief that I was every bit as footloose as Bert.

I also did the poster for the festival itself, which ended up being the most challenging. The brief was to come up with something that encompassed the entirety of the festival – balloon animals and all.

My favourite design that I came up with, and that I’ve been getting the most comments on (cue swelling of head), are the designs for the cocktail party. I came up with a cocktail party duo – a guy and gal ready to get their party on. The posters are displayed alternately throughout shops, so that people walking around will see one in one shop, and then the other half of the couple in another shop. I love my couple.

This is the first time that I’ve done graphic design for quite a long while, and was the cause of a fairly public freak-out at the beginning of the process, but it’s finished now, and all in all I’m happy with the results.

Now I think that I may just have a nap.

Some Kind Of Disco Fever

Last weekend was our September Made With Love markets. Think big hair, flailing around like second-rate versions of John Travolta, laughter, awesome buskers, and a questionable dance floor.

Crooked Stitch

As always, it was fun, it was silly, it was social, and we had a blast. Thank you to everybody who supports our little market – you rock our collective socks, and we couldn’t do it without you.

Now, onto the photos…

A little bit of Turning Trixie

Lisaloo

Awesome live music from Third Vine

Sweet Mia

Kicking it ABBA style with Michelle

Myself, Michelle & Claire

Photos are taken by the wonderful Naomi, who we are very lucky to have put up with our shenanigans. View the whole set here.

If you are interested in having a stall, drop me a line at decoy_roadie@hotmail.com We’d love to have you!

Faking It

Don't be fooled - the vacuum wasn't actually turned on

Today I've been catching up on my blog reading, and I came across this pearler from Hyperbole and a Half. Sometimes I feel as though she can read inside my head. And not just any part of my head - the bit that contains the tumbleweed and the monkey.

Most of the time, I feel like a semi-competent faux adult. Oh yeah, I drive myself places (see me driving this car? I even have the loan repayments so you know that this car makes me an adult), I arrive on time to things (mostly), I hold down a job (I haven't been fired yet) and I do lots of little things during the day that ensure my survival until another day (like breathing), but most of it is just a complex facade, and all that lays underneath is the girl who, unless she concentrates REALLY hard, forgets to eat/sleep/avoid obstacles while walking.

You may have even noticed that I'm continually referring to myself as a girl. Or a gal. Or a chick. I can't bring myself to say "woman", or "lady". I feel like I'd just be giving myself ideas above my station.

In a timely fashion, today (Father's Day) I had a moment for self-analysis when a new co-worker enquired if I had a "hubby at home celebrating Father's Day on his own". I laughed. Racuously. In her face. As I always do in these situations. People throw out the words "husband", "child", "pregnant", "home-ownership", "share market", "risoni" and the like, and I become flustered, feeling the need to explain that, while I may APPEAR as if I'm an adult, I'm nowhere near old enough for that stuff.

Sure, legally I can do whatever I want. But really, until I can remember to eat 3 meals a day, please don't make me responsible for somebody else. I can't even cook eggs, for god's sake. The solitary time that I tried to cook rice was a majestic failure. I don't think that you realise exactly how underprepared I am for this big, bad world of ours.

And then there's the flawed decision-making process that seems to be an integral part of my personality. The part that says, "Yeah, you're running late, your socks are wet, and you don't own a dryer. MICROWAVE!!!", and the part that then has to deal with blackened socks that snap when I try to turn them right side out. It's the part that says, "Although you are sitting on a high seat with your legs crossed underneath you, don't stand up to pick that piece of paper up off the floor. Just lean down to it. Lazy = good.", which unsurprisingly to everyone but myself, led to me losing an earring, receiving a blow to the head, and getting a boo-boo on my knee. And I still didn't manage to grab the catalyst piece of paper.

Yesterday morning before work, I somehow managed to break my bedroom curtain rod. I don't know what happened; I was opening my curtains, and then all of a sudden I was draped in netting and wondering if my hazy vision was a side-effect of fatigue. A variety of appropriate responses came to mind, but the course of action that I chose based upon the variables (lack of time, need to get to work, lack of time) was the most obvious of all of the options - I closed the outer curtain again, and pretended that it never happened. I might get around to opening the curtain again and sorting out the issue. Or maybe it will magically fix itself. Who knows? All I know is that I'd rather live a life prepared to be open to the idea of magical curtain-fixing, than being all negative and whatnot.

I keep assuming that these thought processes and actions will change - maybe once I hit 26 years of age something will happen inside me and I'll be able to make a mean omelette and watch the news without crying about all of the people that got hurt. I don't know. I try not to get my hopes up about it all. I think the far likelier outcome is that I will forever be driven to distraction by shiny things, and proud of obviously monumental feats like checking the fuses in my car - it's just that I might be able to control it all a little bit better.

We can hope.

The Testimonial



{Image}

I'm here to say it - internet dating worked.

*pauses for gasps of awe and shock*

I know, it surprised me as much as anybody else. I can't believe that I could now be eligible to be on a TV ad; holding hands, splashing through water at the beach, and beaming happily, albeit slightly dementedly, whilst staring into the distance. I could totally practice a little testimonial: "And just when I thought I was destined to turn into a crazy cat-lady (once I actually got permission to own cats), I found a soulmate who balances my chi and just totally understands my allergies to certain grass specimens."

Some of you may remember my very first internet date that took place in RL (real-life, for all of you uninitiated out there), and the lad that I dubbed Tarzan (otherwise to be known as D). It turns out that even making jokes about dead bodies wasn't enough to turn this one off me.

After months of staying in contact, I went to visit D in Hobart last weekend and now it's on like Donkey Kong. We have decided to give this whole long-distance thing a go, and make our telephone network providers very happy people in the meantime.

The time in Hobart was awesomely fun. It was all just begging to be made into an Oasis Active advertisement montage: running through the rain while holding hands and giggling, eating sushi on top of Mount Wellington, chilling out in front of the fire, pulling out ridiculous items at op-shops and saying, "It's totally you"... Seriously, bring on the camera - we'd definitely be in the running for cutest damned couple ever.

I'm smitten, I'm keen, I'm in a perpetual state of swooning, and I'm coming very close to giving my nearest and dearest the shits by continually talking about D. And all of this came about because of that funny little thing they call the internet. Who'd a thunk it?