via [ffffound]

Thank you internet. This is exactly what I needed to see today.
Maybe you did too? He is quite a pleasant fellow.


e.

still playing with matches

image one [Jan Avendano] image two [Nigel Peake]

Not much to say about these ones except that I like them, they go together like 'rama lama lama ke ding a de dinga a dong' and of course that 1985 ushered in a year that will go down in history as the one in which I was born.

Gorgeous detail.
Pretty colours.

The end.

Enjoy.


e.

go hug a cactus

Dont worry I'm not greeting you with any kinda of moustached, ponchoed, sombreroed insult, although, it would make a good one, don't you think? All will become clear.

image [here]

My auntie and uncle have an amazing garden. They live in what sometimes feels to be right next to the middle of nowhere in the flatline horizoned Victoria. 
A region spooked with legends of jungle cats & uninvited reptilian residents, this home, to me, is wrapped in a nice neat bundle of nostalgia. There are cacti all over the garden, and one day, I'm not quite sure how, but it must have involved a sizable dose of blind stupidity, we discovered a new kind of instrument. 'Playing the cactus' involves running your finger tips lightly down the spikes of a tall cactus (the miniature potted ones won't work - I'll save you the trouble). The sound is like running water but a little more musical. Sheer brilliance, eh?

But, in spite the fact that some members of my family were blessed with thumbs of a green genus, I was merely imparted an appreciation of decent flora display and possess no great ability, access or desire to cultivate a ground growing masterpiece (I hold out hope for this to turn around in the future).
Apartment dwelling calls for a certain breed of rugged and resilient plants that are 'me' proof.

white collection from odds & ends

Yup. You guessed it! (Actually, I cant imagine you did.) Knitted cacti!

I came across these delightful creations made by Andrea Daniel of 'Odds & endS' last week at Design Made Trade & fell in love. Handmade using both knitting & crochet, they may not be capable of creating musical watery tunes like the real ones but I bet you've never been able to say you've hugged a cactus before!? I was trying to come up with some kind of witty line about their bark being worse that their bite but I'm so besotted with the idea of a knitted cactus that all wit has escaped me.


This would be a planted spectacle that could indeed turn my thumbs into the garden variety.


e.

things on strings

Once common to used car dealerships and doorway welcome home greetings with eternal creases purchased from the nearest bargain shop - our humble friend 'bunting' has been resurrected and oh my, watch your heads because you could clothesline yourself on this stuff at any or every turn. A large 'man and his canine companion' collective (so to speak) are draping lengths of showy strands about the place.  Indeed, I sound the cynic - but I like stringed things quite a bit, thanks. They make everything feel a little more festive. For instance, a tree in winter, bare after it's shedding of summer foliage - add a stretch of triangles tethered together and VOILA - happy party tree! 
I have been charged with the task of making some bunting for a soon-to-greet-the-world young-'un's nursery and there is a great deal of inspiration to behold. So....er.... behold....

[one] [two unknown] [three] [four unknown] [five] [six] [seven] [eight]

What's the weirdest thing you have seen on a string? Mine would have to be:
Ten grey elephants bal-anc-ing, step by step on a piece - of - string... [five elephant version here]. 


Thanks for letting me string you along for a while.
(oops, once again, I just could not help myself!)
e.

never play with matches

Well, I haven't had much to say of late. 
But perhaps I've been being listening instead of talking.
Or perhaps like everyone else (one hundred percent an assumption) life is running about a kilometre in front of me and I'm trying to catch up but I'm wearing very cumbersome and impractical footwear for such an activity.


I must say I liked this thought, as it is one I have thought, although not so eloquently, many a time of late. And matched with this crazy swirl of colour - I feel that it sums up life quite well for the time being. There's lots happening, fairly impressive if you can see the big picture but pure mayhem when you're in it. It's all leading somewhere though, right?

one [here] two [here]

Oh well, embrace it for now and live your life in colour.

e.

french toast & an important warning

I can't quite put my finger on why, but i feel that these two pictures go together.

Pierre, was the little man I found in my french toast one morning and the warning sign was spotted at 'Giant Steps' in Healsville. Good call guys - good call indeed! (Good wine too.)
Don't get me wrong - I love kids - but I work in retail - in a store full of breakable things - and apparently a great place for hide and seek or a tantrum - get the picture?

e.

keen as mustard

Bananas are really expensive which means I refuse to buy them, which means I can't enjoy banana and nutella toasties with raisin bread, which means my fruit intake is at a record low - sorry mum!


This also means that bananas are but one golden hued item that will not grace your screen via this blog post - aside from their previous mention. 


What you will see is sunshine to your eye-balls - but sunnies are not required, unless that's part of your 'look' - I do not know these things.


Don't get confused with the title - the mustard I refer to is more of a dijon rather than a wholegrain and it's the colour... not the texture. Ok? Are we good? Onward we go.

cambridge satchel from [bohemia]
the short-sighted twins from [cat rabbit]
some gold for your ears [urbanears]
outfit from Winter 2011 collection [gorman]
lovely lockets from [so little time]

I know some of you feel that a lemony look washes you out but I promise, even just a smidge (underwear counts) will make the world of difference to this week's happy days.


What's the matter - you too yella?
(sorry couldn't help myself!)


e.

a toy story

No this post does not involve a spaceman toy with a fake laser nor does it detail a lassoing hero with pull-cord conversational feature. This is the story that pixar did not tell me. It is one I was pressed to unravel myself.

It has taken the earth nearly two times to travel around our sun for me to make this discovery - which could sound like a feat of great brilliance - there I am in some dank room lit by a small flickering lamp, hunched over a crooked desk, trawling through information day after day in the hope of reaching the 'ah-ha' moment. Sadly, it was more a case of a forgotten venture. A toy that fell between the chest of drawers and my basket of bags - its identity lost in translation - its presence in my life lost to my love of bags.

You see, this funny little fluffy creature was given to me by a blind woman in Kazakhstan. The oompa-loompa orange face partnered with the brown mickey mouse ears baffled me... but who am I to say what's normal, right? A further intrigue is the song that it sings when you press its tummy (clearly a Woody wannabe!). It's all in Russian! Not helpful. At first it was endearing, the song, the oddly cute face, but when the increasingly familiar tune would assail my ears in muffled glory from the depths of my hand luggage at the airport - it was safe to say our relationship was becoming a little strained, nevertheless, I wanted to understand my little friend. I wanted to know what he was singing to me.

Several decidedly slack internet searches when I returned from my trip, revealed nothing. What was I to search for anyway?

A year later on Bloesem, I saw this pic. My breathe was snagged - but the lack of accompanying information on the portrait's subject - left me disinterested once again.

Until now.

I was going to mock-up a wanted poster and ask you, dear blog-reading friends, to do the leg work for me... many hands make light work and all the jazz. But I found something. And then I found everything.

His (or her – gender not specified I don’t think) name is Cheburashka. The sidekick character to a crocodile in a Russian children's show. Apparently the name, Cheburashka, refers to him toppling over all the time. And now that I know his name, I can think of no better address - not because he falls over but because he looks like a Cheburashka - don't you think?

And so ends this tale of my mysterious plush amigo. (or should I say друг?)

Check him out in action [here]

The word for goodbye in Kazakh escapes me but thanks to my very 'aussie' travel buddies, I know that it sounds something like: 'sour bowlings'.

e.