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. 

They see me strollin'

I went to the Botanic Gardens yesterday. I remember my father taking my younger sister and I there almost every weekend. It was about three streets from our house. And it was free. And my mother the nurse usually worked night duty on Friday and Saturday nights and needed to sleep.

I remember my father taking us through all of the different areas; the lake with the ducks (and terrifying eels), the arid area full of cacti, the place where camellia grew in soft areas of dappled light, the tropical dome. I loved it. I only remember my mother being there once; we walked through the tropical dome. It was also a butterfly house then. I remember turning around to see that my mother had paused, and butterflies were slowly starting to land on her, and the pram with my sister. I froze, and they eventually floated onto me, too.

Now trees are taller and I ended up growing up into a florist. That's pretty perfect.

I can still see all of the old, seventies structures behind the plants. So much of my childhood had heavy, brutal cement walls as a backdrop (I'm also looking at you, Queensland Museum) I can't look at them with anything other than loving, loyal fondness. 

Inspired. 

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. 

Manicured.

         

I painted my nails and now I'm writing a blog post mentioning the fact that I painted my nails. Talk about Gen Why, am I right? I've been feeling inspired by the works of Alexander Calder lately, so I gave myself a ManiCalder. A MobileCure? My ridiculous manicure has an even more ridiculous name. Ridiculous.

I've also been thinking about clocks. I have been thinking about clocks a lot. I seem to periodically obsess over watches and clocks without ever making any kind of formal, ticky commitment. I am the Clooney of the clock world. However, there have been a few lately that I've considered seeing more of. You know, every day. Every day because it is on a wall in my house.

The bare wall.

The Pugg

For some reason, I have this involuntary reaction of BUY! whenever I see the Pugg at Ikea. I want to say that I feel like it has something of an industrial, on-a-factory-wall-in-1963 vibe. I do. Interestingly, I am also getting an institutional, feel-like-I'm-back-at-school-waiting-for-3pm vibe. 

The Epoch

I recently saw this when I was looking for the bowl for the cacti. I liked it, I picked it up, I wrinkled my nose, I put it back. I just don't know. I can't decide. I can't even decide if I want a clock. It's not you, clocks. It's me. (Actually, maybe it is you. Why can I not find the clock?)

Fancy.

Speaking of Ikea, I keep trying to rationalise my desire, my need, to go to and buy about twelve of these little spice jars. I walk past them every single time I go and I don't think I'll be able to resist next time. I'd like to have matching jars to put our tea, coffee and sugar in. I'm sure that must be one of the Fifteen Million Habits of Super Efficient, Stylish Adults.

I know, I know. The cacti are taking over everything.

Oh, you guys. Stop it. Just stop it. Cacti are such flirts. Look at them. Look at them practically glowing with good health and sunlight.

Finally: I'm going on a mini-break this weekend, too (fancy). Hopefully I will maybe stop thinking about clocks and cacti and instead maybe find some amazing perfect teak MCM bedside tables that are really cheap in an op shop in Toowoomba or whatever. Hahaha. Oh, hopes. You so funny and so never going to happen. HahahahahahaHA. Yeah, wish me luck.

Cabin fever.

Even Smudge the cat is hiding from the weather. Sleeping? What? Shut up.

It has been the most despicably rainy weekend. Autumn and winter are by far my favourite seasons. Normally, this is a time of fantastic crispness borne of from winds that (finally) chase away the awful humidity and heavy clouds that haunt the city for, oh, most of the year. Raininess feels oppressive and heavy and nothing like the fast moving clearness that is the best part of these seasons. Ugh, summer. You have far outstayed your welcome. You witch.

I've been stuck inside, hiding from the dementors the rain and general cantankerousness of the clouds, and it pretty much means that I have been doing some strange sort of nesting. I've been buying plants. 

... Lots of plants. 

Just going to stretch a perfect little leg out of this here bowl, 'kay?

Look at you, you bowl of architectural spiky perfection. I've gone a little bit mental for cacti recently. It's probably because they are just so welcoming and friendly looking am I right you guys. After years of being a florist and a rose specialist, I'm really excited to be surrounded by an entirely different kind of spiky fabulousness. My recent, somewhat brutal, phase of everything must be pared back and minimal and bold and graphic and in all probability either black, mustard, white, grey or brown is showing no sign of letting up and I love it. I feel a lot calmer when I have less visible stuff.

Honestly, that bowl of cacti and the credenza are my two favourite things right now and the bowl (so simple! such lovely clean lines!) is sitting on the credenza and I just love it so much because it's so perfect and they could almost be best friends or something.

I even have a little baby cactus in a glass next to my bed. I've got so many in the house now I'm worried that they'll mutiny. It'll be something like waking up every morning and having baby cactus an inch closer to my face and then BAM. 

Also, that lump of citrine makes me so happy. Apparently, or so the rock shop lady told me, citrine is superheated amethyst. My younger sister loved amethyst when she was a little girl, and I love it solely for that reason. Not being a cool-toned colour fan, I love that there is something that is the same but different and also my favourite colour. 

It's not just plants, though. Nothing is safe from my weather-enforced nesting. I bought these ridiculous moccasin-type shoes and the black thread that held of the shoe together broke. On the first wear. I mean, I'm pretty used to this stuff. Ladies with size twelve feet, do you hear me? You totally do. Even so, this irked me. I patched them back together with some bold orange ribbon because I felt like putting my feet in the naughty corner. The naughty neon corner. That'll sure teach 'em. Ridiculous. 

Nugget necklace tutorial.

It was raining and dreary today. I was a whisker away from boredom when I realised that, hey, I could maybe do something. Something inside the house. Groundbreaking, right? I could maybe make myself a necklace! My affection for large statement necklaces is only getting stronger, you guys, and woman can only trawl Sportsgirl so many times in a fortnight. I liked the look of some geometric bead necklaces that I've been seeing around, so I thought I'd try to make one myself.

I whisked myself over to Spotlight and got some supplies. The Spotlight near my house, which I only just realised was there about a month ago, is enormous. Enormous and completely devoid of signs. After about an hour of drifting along to a chorus of babies wailing like nothing I have ever heard before, I finally found everything. I mean, sure, I walked past everything at least twice because I was ducking between innumerable mothers and their primary school-aged children who all seemed to be wielding bolts of fabric like oddly fluffy lances or something.

Then I got home and everything was great again. Great and filled with geometric-sort-of-I-guess bead necklaces. They're really easy to make, so you should maybe make one perhaps? I'm calling it my nugget necklace. You'll need polymer clay, razor blades, twine and claps (if you want to use them).

I used polymer clay. It's easy to manipulate, bakes pretty fast, and is really durable. I used to use it a lot as a kid, because people in the nineties were obviously a little blasé about children playing with chemically stuff. Polymer clay comes in a large range of colours but if you are me, you don't really care about those so much and go for black, slightly pearlescent and brown. Shocker.

The first thing I did was shape polymer clay into spheres. Make the spheres a little bigger than you would like the finished bead to be, because you'll be cutting them down to shape them. I chose black and a slightly larger pearlescent one. I wear a lot of black, so I didn't want the necklace to disappear when I wore it. Tip: do the light colours before the dark ones, and wash your hands well in between. The pearly white went a little bit grey, but I was cool with that. 

 It was dark by the time I took these photos. Jared told me to wait until morning. Is he kidding? I want to tell the internet about it now. The next step is about as tricky as the whole thing gets. Put your little spheres in the freezer for a little while. I used this time to dash out and buy razor blades, because I quickly discovered that polymer clay deforms if you try to slice it up with just any old implement. After about twenty minutes, take the spheres out of the freezer and start slicing with your razor blades. I took a little bit off at a time so I could control the shape. Don't cut your fingers, obviously. Or let children anywhere near any of this, really.

Since these are going to be beads, they'll need holes in them. I used a skewer (just a regular bamboo one) and gently but firmly pushed it through the clay. Rotating the skewer will ensure there will be minimal clay blow out at the other end. After you've gone through one way, push the skewer back through the same hole, but from the other end. This will also stop the bead bulging oddly. Gently put them on a tray and bake according to the polymer clay instructions. Once they come out, let the nuggets cool. I used white twine and tied and crimped on a antique silver coloured clasp. I didn't really need to do that, because I made the necklace to be really long. You could just knot it off, really.

So there we are. Nugget necklaces for all.

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.

I had a nightmare that someone stole my credit card details. A proper wake-with-a-start nightmare.

Now I feel like I need to go and buy a pair of three quarter cargo pants and an SUV. I'm not ready for this.

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. 

Hi.

Hello. Hi. So, anyway, since I think the sidebar rather sums me up perfectly, I thought I'd introduce myself through pictures. 

I'm Ruthie. And I love this guy.

(Am obviously v v good at photos)

I live here. 

Or, more specifically, here:

I like quite a lot of things. One of those things is clothes.

Another of those things is drawing.

I also quite like eating nice food.

I also like most things that are great. For example, music. I include ELO in this category, much to my father's disgust.

Right. Well. That's it, really. I have to go and water the plants and perhaps go to Google in the hope that it can give me instructions on blog. Nothing specific, just blog. (After this I may as well just give in and start referring to 'the Google' whilst cornering people and attempting- leaves in hair and crazed look in eye- to discuss my 'web log').