Projects

Busy weekend. 

Birthday celebrations on Saturday morning. Dropped J at his afternoon class. Decided that doing so was my lucky roadside-thrift charm. Since it's October and October means jacarandas and jacarandas are perfect, I went for a drive around. I live in my favourite part of my city; filled with beautiful worker's cottages and art deco bungalows and sprawling Queenslanders with sweeping verandahs. It's an old part of the city, so the trees are tall and leafy. The hills allow for the most beautiful views, and the jacarandas were at their purple-puff best this year. 

I ignored the heat and the humidity (it felt like the hot, sticky wind was slapping you in the face with eye-watering sunlight, imagine) and walked along one street while I was waiting for J's class to finish. All of the gardens were full of flowers. Most of them had a jade tree somewhere near the gate. I loved that. I found a secret garden, too, with a perfectly placed frangipani flower at the gate. I love my city.

I also love it extra much when the roadside collections are on. This year I've found a solid expandable maple table (!) and now a couple of old wooden chairs. For zero dollars. Because I basically hate free time and relaxing, I dragged the chairs into my car and headed to the nearest hardware store. Tangerine dipped chairs for all. Actually, just for my apartment, sorry. 

Soon these babies will be denuded of their protective Coles plastic bags (because I am a professional) and be sitting next to their fellow roadside-thrift friend, table. It's an easy process, but I'm pretty lazy relaxed about this sort of thing. Basically, the process is sand, undercoat (don't forget to use primer on bare timber), top coat. Wear a mask and eye goggles. Don't take my advice (except for safety things, do those) and read the instructions and do things the proper way.

A new dining setting for free? Okay.

I also finished some art pieces for my Dad's birthday and he loved them which was great and maybe now I can art for serious. I also went swimming for the first time in years and forgot that my ivory skin immediately reverts back to luscious olive the very second it is exposed to sunlight. I actually thought (for a second, okay?) that the chemicals in the pool dyed my skin.

What?

Don't look at me like that.

I liked swimming, though. I even did a backflip!

Home

I can't stop rearranging furniture. Right now, my apartment is divided up into zones. Pretty and neat? Yep, that's the living room and kitchen. Okay? That's the bedroom. Disaster? That's J's office.

Did an Ikea trip and finally found all of those things that I never knew I needed. Special white jars with wooden lids for teabags and everything? Definitely. Approximately sixty dollars on cacti alone? Certainly. Blissful new sheepskin that is ostensibly for decoration but really a replacement for the one that I refused to part with and that remained with me from cot to first apartment? Sure. Whatever, the house is looking excellent.

This new quilt cover changed the entire bedroom. The previous black and grey geometric cover was very dark and really drew the eye. New black and white quilt cover is wonderful. The crystals and that cacti moved out into the living room before long. 

Hello, friends. 

Oh, what? That? That solid maple midcentury extendable table, you mean? Right. That one that I found on the side of the road? Just checking. It weighs a ton, it's in almost perfect original condition (save a few superficial scratches on one edge and a terrible attempt by a previous owner to add a black ombré detail to the edge. Why did you do that?). I was driving past on my way to an op shop when I spotted my new table friend upended on the footpath. My neighbourhood has been doing the footpath collections lately. After screeching to a halt and determining that yes, it is solid wood and yes, it is in almost perfect original condition I waited around for almost twenty minutes to see if anyone was coming back to claim it. Nope. Nothing. It was mine. Thanks to the toolbox in my car, the legs came off and fit in the car. The top didn't. Heartbroken wasn't even the word.

Then the guy in the ute pulled up. After making polite conversation (he was doing a talk at the church building next door) he offered to drive the table top to my house. And he did, as soon as he was done with his talk. Stranger danger? What? I wanted that table. I got that table.  And we all lived happily ever after and only complained about American thrifters always finding incredible things very quietly every few days.

Bliss.

Wearing the pants.

Caught more trains today (four, can you believe it?) than I have in the past three years (exciting). If a 20 minute train trip wasn't a 30 minute walk away, and the equivalent bus trip took longer than the usual 13 minutes door-to-door, I'd maybe think about perhaps considering it. Maybe. I love you, trains! It's like you glide through dioramas of old times or something.

Breakfast this morning. There may be a day where I don't order the 'gringo' baked eggs. It wasn't today, anyway. Maple bacon and spiced avocado on the side? Oh whatever, no big deal. YES. My coffee with a thick layer of condensed milk under coffee and ice cubes and I nearly wept. Happy days, you guys. That's pretty much everything I've ever truly loved trapped in a jar right there. Still driving across town to get to Lady Marmalade. Still worth it.

Today I was also a lady that wore trousers. Trousers, for the first time since I could choose my own clothes several years. I made sure I kept it nice and subtle, to ease myself into trouser-wearing.

Ha.

Prints! Prints and more prints (and a long-desired Domino necklace from Sportsgirl). Besides the lace pants I got from ASOS, I picked up some fantastic geometric and weird floral ones, too. I had to adjust all of them, I have a smaller waist and skinny ankles so I need to take them in at the top and end of the legs.

I'm a convert, though. They're all comfortable, practical and wearable. No worries about wind and skirts! How exciting are trousers? Idea: the Exciting Printed Trouser Fan Club. Vice President? Totally this guy:

"Heeeeeeeeeeey, sexy lady!"

Holidays

Lots of things happened in two months.

Like beach holidays. Mid-winter beach holidays. Mid-winter beach and thrifting-at-lovely-country-villages holidays. Wait, what? That's right. I live in Queensland. There is no such thing as winter at the beach in Queensland.

Currumbin aka case in point.

Mooball, the greatest town name on earth.

No big deal, really. Just visited shops stocked completely by my dreams... And giant seventies pottery lamps in electric cobalt. 

I changed the sideboard around again. And again and again and again and hey, look! More cacti in the bedroom!

And there was a frost in Brisbane. Actual frost. On my car. We figured out what it was eventually, after sitting in the car for five minutes, wondering why the window wipers weren't doing anything and also why the glass looked "really weird." It was ice! Outside a freezer!

I also bought a bunch of radishes because I really wanted to cut heart shapes in them.

We're not allowed pets in the apartment but we've 'adopted' a blue-tongue lizard that lives under our porch. He sunbakes all the time. He's Lizard Friend. He lets me sit on the stairs next to him sometimes. 

I painted a few things. And dreamt about studying fine arts. 

I sat in the sun and looked at the sky a lot. I also drank a lot of tea.

I also remembered that the kitchen wasn't just a place to store leftover takeaway. 

Best of all, I was asked to be godmother to a cherished friend's youngest little lady. I adore this tiny, roly poly girl and can't wait to watch her grow. As a person raised by a Buddhist mother and an atheist father, it's uncharted territory for me, but all very exciting. And such an honour. And, y'know, babies!

Breakfast, fast.

I had planned to go to the markets today with a beautiful friend and her perfect little blonde nugget of a baby girl. I planned it.

Well, I also forgot my wallet and then I had to go home to get it and then I was really late and then I am the worst, really, so J and I ended up turning around and going to breakfast. We went across town for breakfast. (I'm not used to the southside. Living over there, even if it was only for a few months, made me feel like I had moved cities). Despite my complete, utter glee at moving back 'home' to the inner north-west, I really miss Lady Marmalade. I really miss it a lot. I would revisit the southside solely for their coffee.

He's all "nyah-nyah, you still drive to the southside just for me". 

I love going there with J. I love the coffee and I love the food and I love the staff. I also really love the animal table numbers, especially Mr Licky Giraffe. It was the best breakfast today. Baked eggs and date with boyfriend? Excellent. What? Did I take a photo of the eggs? I didn't have time to, honestly. I was halfway through the dish before I remembered to take a breath.

Licky licky licky. 

The giraffe was fantastic, okay? And just so licky.

I also put up some of my op shop finds from the holiday. Strange String Thing is just right for the space next to Thoughtful Man's head. That space has housed several not-quite-right pieces since we moved in, and don't you just know that now I'll find six million billion other great things to put there? Don't worry, though, Strange String Thing. You're pretty great.

Nuggety.

I also made another nugget necklace. Oh, sure. The colours look a little bit muted in this photo. Sure they do. My dreams of having necklaces full of pastel nuggets were ruined by the fact that the white (pictured here living a lie of whiteness) is actually not white. It is actually glow-in-the-dark. As I opened the oven door and saw it glowing neon I thought my oven was going all small-scale Chernobyl on me. When I realised the other once-pastel beads were their almost blindingly bright original shades, I realised what must have happened. And it obviously has nothing to do with me not checking price tags. What are you even talking about that is not possible obviously. 

Holidays

Visited the farm last weekend. It was so cold*.  Five days of cold. Five days of falling leaves. Five days of Dad jokes**. Five days of having the dog follow me around like a shadow. Brilliant, really.

(*Which was great, obviously) (** Also kind of great).

I drove through Toowoomba, this time, instead of zooming down through Warwick. I took my sweet time. I even went op shopping in Toowoomba. I say that like I hadn't already mapped out their exact locations and worked out the most efficient way to use the traffic flows to optimise my foraging time. Give me efficiency or give me death several backup plans. 

Lifeline

The Lifeline I went to first was pretty great. I picked up so many things. I even bought some geometricy,  Aztecy mustard and cream place mats that I was really excited about that now I can't find in my suitcase. Disaster. I found myself putting most things back, though, rather than buying everything I could reach.

Well, everything apart from old, handmade pottery. I didn't have a huge amount of luck until I went to Vinnies and then it was all MAGIC INCREDIBLE POTTERY HEAVEN. I picked up everything. For five whole dollars. It was great. I also got some interesting petrified wood and some books but haha, I just called petrified wood 'interesting'.

Hello, misshapen scratchy darlings.

The farm was very relaxing and filled with birds. And trees. And wood smoke. And frost. And sweet little dogs. And Patsy Cline and Marianne Faithfull and discussions about the importance of Electric Light Orchestra as a sociocultural marker*. (*obviously very important)

And did I mention the sweet little dog?

Frosty.

The trees were spectacular. The poplars were mostly bald but the plums, the liquidambars and the pistachios were all garbed in the most amazing warm shades of golden yellow to deep plum brown. I love being able to see clear seasons throughout the Southern Downs. Watching rich veins of shimmering oranges and reds move against with sky with the wind was hypnotic, almost. The sky was the most perfect crown of rich blue with puffs of white clouds skating past. I don't see that on the coast. It's green or it's grey or it's bleached pale here.

It was great. I'm now wondering about how I am going to incorporate my cacti obsession into a cold climate, deciduous garden. And my largely MCM collection of furniture into a Federation style red brick bungalow in Tenterfield. It'll be fine, right?

Totally. 

Heartbreaker.

Heartbreaker? What, do I not realise this is a post about furniture?

Of course I realise. Silly.

I'm talking about this guy.

Do you see him there? Sitting there on the left as if he just doesn't care that I love him more than just about any other piece of furniture I've ever owned? He doesn't care. He's a credenza. Obviously.

For the longest time, the television sat on a faux bois-y, melamine-y record cabinet I found in Stanthorpe. Apparently it is important for film students to have decent televisions or something, so I can't pretend we don't have one. Whatever. I really liked the cabinet when I found it, but the television was just too big or something was too something and it kind of had to go.

Record cabinet of old, seen here in it's natural habitat.

I wanted something a bit bigger. A bit more angular. A bit more teak? Maybe also a second job to pay for it? I mean, mid-century modern credenzas aren't exactly wallflowers right now, are they? Unfortunately the world has changed since I got this sideboard for nineteen dollars off eBay.

Yes, that amazing chevron blanket is everywhere in my house. It's magic.

Whatever, furniture. Really. Playing hard-to-get is only going to make me want you more. I'd almost given it up as a bad job. I would look at credenzas in shops. I'd dream, I'd rapturously caress the beautiful finishes. I'd walk away, steely in my resolve not to have to live on bread and water for three months.

... Then last Saturday happened. Saturday? Sunday? What does it matter? In my head it pretty much requires a holiday devoted to it because it was the day I found the perfect credenza. The perfect credenza that wasn't thousands of dollars. It wasn't even one thousand dollars. It was on sale for three hundred and ninety dollars. I know, I know. One of my favourite ladies and I went to an antique centre on the southside and there were about a million credenzas just lolling about, teasing me. Walking past a crowded stall, we spotted this.

Just sitting there under some other, inferior, credenza. Ignore the colour variation, would you? It's difficult to take a decent photo when you are shaking with what can only be described as total glee. Especially when you notice this:

Oh, okay. Sure.

After dithering for about a million years, I left empty handed. But how did it get into your house, you almost misser of opportunities? I hear you say.

I came to my senses late on Tuesday night. A classic sit-up-in-bed-and-frantically-email-the-dealer-twice moment. Of course, it was ten pm and no one cares about frantic credenza crushes at ten pm except me. I called the next day. The very second that the store opened. I called and bought it over the phone like a fancy rich lady (fact: I am not a fancy rich lady). I'm sure the staff deal with frenzied furniture mind-changers every day. I got it delivered on Thursday (thanks to The Van That Can who are The Best) and now it is in my living room, being all cheeky and perfect.

I am very happy and now need to find a plant for the living room that isn't a palm tree. I went to the nursery and grabbed a few cacti, which are great. But I want more. Specifically, I want a plant with big leaves that is kind of stalky still so not bulky and really I want a philodendron or a monstera or maybe even a zanzibar gem and did you think I actually thought to articulate the names to the staff or did I just talk about 'big leaves with stems'. You know I just talked about big leaves and stems.

I want a bowl for the cacti, too. I'm not really a glass bowl kind of lady, though, what with the humidity and the mould all up in this city. Ceramic? Hand glazed? Sleek? Too many things to think about, all thanks to the new credenza.

Credenza.

Couch surfing.

I've spent most of the evening on the couch ignoring the fact that my knees and feet are cold (it's under 28 degrees, and it is not humid!). I spent the rest of it listening to my neighbours (Smarmy Nasal Man vs the stoically ever-silent 'Craig') bickering, and a possum screeching gaily outside the bedroom window. 

Don't look at me like that. Grand Designs was on. So was the Brady Bunch. My dance card was full, thank you very much.

Of course I'm being social, Dad. Someone has to keep the plants company.

Friday nights are an inscrutable mystery to me. I'm always slightly surprised I'm not in an hospital somewhere, attached to a drip, weakly recovering from a week of Being an Adult. Honestly, I nearly passed out after a jump in volume between a television program and an advertisement (cynical? what, me?). In the time it took me to rearrange my face out of a frown I heard two groups of youths romp happily up the street. 

Two.

I wonder if those kids were as excited about the party as I was about the prospect of a silent night on the couch with tea and a bowl of cous cous. Probably. And that is so great.