Favourite Jeans
Last modified on 2010-02-09 01:33:25 GMT. 1 comment. Top.
Dear Jeans,
You know that I love you right? I say that because I want you to know that I know. I know that you are thinking of leaving me. And Jeans, my most favourite, most comfortable Jeans, I really don’t want you to go.
It’s not that you have said anything but I found the hole Jeans. I found the hole that indicates the beginning of the end. And I know I deserve you leaving me – I’ve worn you out with my constant demands and unending co-dependency – but I still need you. I’m just not ready to give up wearing you on those cold study days in front of the computer, and I’m really not ready to stop wearing you out (remember the cool Metal gig we went to on Friday night, I bet you would really miss me taking you to things like that if you left).
I have such fond memories of the day that we met and you were so cleverly on sale and I brought you home and we fell in love. I had hesitations at first, but you grew on me Jeans, you made me feel better when I was sad, and you never gave up on me like my Skinny Jeans did after I ate too much at Christmas.
I’m sorry it’s been so hard for you, but I love you Jeans. If you try to hang in there I promise I’ll cherish you until cloth do us part.
Love Gemma
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Shit Lips
Last modified on 2010-02-07 13:08:16 GMT. 1 comment. Top.
We made a film (well Dave, Joel and Thom instigated it and I jumped merrily on their bandwagon). It was one of those crazy 48 hour jobs. Yep 48 hours to write, act, direct, edit and track a little movie. Sheesh, the pressure! It was fun though. Really, really fun. I think in the end it got some naff name like The Tiara of Time* but my preferred name was Shit Lips. I forgot I took some photographs. And I can’t take credit for them all, one of my talented photographer friends grabbed the camera at some point – but I can’t quite remember who… So, after 2 years of waiting here they are. My apologies for being incredibly sloooow.
* And we won the People’s Choice Award for our little number. Go the popular vote!
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How to kill a Pelican.
Last modified on 2010-02-05 23:00:31 GMT. 1 comment. Top.
A wonderful bird is the Pelican,
His mouth can hold more than his belly can,
He can hold in his beak,
Enough food for a week.
I’m damned if I know how the hell he can!*
I patted a baby Pelican once. It was so soft you could have rolled around in its feathers for a week – off-white and gangly legged with big goofy feet. I stroked my hand on its downy chest and gushed. It was the kookiest looking, sweetest thing I had ever come across.
These photos are from a job I went on for the Northern Star a couple of years ago at Evans Head. Australian Seabird Rescue were doing a cleanup of birds that suffering from the effects of botulism, after eating fish and eels killed by either; a) effluent from the local sewerage treatment plant, or b) the hot weather causing lagoon temperatures to rise and cook the marine life within. Either way its a pretty sad day that sees the loss of the magnificent Pelican. And hundreds of ducks, gulls, eels and fish.
My flatmate Paul caught me mid rant last week. Mid photography rant. He, like my other long-suffering flatmates, is undoubtably very sick of hearing about photography. He interjected something about the environment. Because my brain was so focused on my rant that it couldn’t conceive of investigating the tangent he had introduced, I said, and sadly I quote, ‘The Environment? I don’t care about the fucking Environment’. I would like to take this opportunity to publicly retract that statement. I do actually. I care that because of us, whether it is dumping sewerage where it shouldn’t be dumped, or by heating our precious green planet up so much it kills its own residents, these sweet, kooky birds end up dead in a stagnant swamp.
I’ve certainly got no moral high ground on this platform (see previous inflammatory statement) but I figure it’s 2010 folks. If you can’t conceive of how to make a difference in your own life, surely you can find some way of supporting someone who does (Australian Seabird Rescue rely on donations to exist – and there are many more places just like them). Otherwise I’m guessing our Pelican, whose beak can fit more than his belly can, will continue to suffer the effects of our bad choices.
* There is some contention about who originally penned this poem but my sources say it was Dixon Lanier Merritt in 1910.
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Ruby
Last modified on 2010-02-04 01:22:26 GMT. 2 comments. Top.
Ruby looks serious. She is not usually so serious.
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The conversation
Last modified on 2010-02-04 01:04:02 GMT. 4 comments. Top.
One of the things I like about this little man is that he loves words. It’s a gift his parents have given him, both are cerebral wordsmiths who love reading. A gift that was given to our generation by our parents. His Grandad, our Dad, used to read to us every night before bed, winding his way through The Hobbit, Watership Downs, Rudyard Kipling and more. Occasionally he would nod off mid chapter, to be roused by us girls chorusing ‘More, more!’.
Ronin is two and he plans conversations in advance. Telling us what he is going to speak about on the way to visiting people. Like in the car on the way to see Grandad, he says ‘What you like for lunch Grandad?’ – practicing over and over before he gets there. He really likes having conversations.
I love words. They were my first love, and its endured. Photographs are one thing but words. And it is a joy watching him, and the rest of my tiny minions learn to love them. My other nephew Xavier spoke his first sentence the other day. Typical of his kooky personality it was hilarious; ‘That mine Ning Ning!’ he said of the car he had been riding around his Aunty Melody’s house. Ning Ning referring to the noise you make when driving said car. Niiiiiiiing Niiiiiiiiing. Niiiiiiiing Niiiiiiiiing.
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Summertime (for George)
Last modified on 2010-02-03 01:25:02 GMT. 3 comments. Top.
This is, in no particular order, some of the things we have done this summer.
* If you like the look of the delicious curries check out Elizabeth and Leon’s blog Strayed from the Table.
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What are little boys made of?
Last modified on 2010-02-02 14:29:00 GMT. 9 comments. Top.
Snips and snails, and puppy dogs tails. That’s what little boys are made of! But I think these two little boys are made of sugar and spice, and all things nice. Yum.
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Like bugs crawling on your skin…
Last modified on 2010-02-02 14:31:45 GMT. 0 comments. Top.
Bugs brought to you by the lovely and talented Miss Easy Bee, otherwise known as Emilie Zoey Baker. Belly brought to you by beautiful Sarah and the yet to be born Aisling. Pics, as usual, by moi.
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Sarah and the lamb chops
Last modified on 2010-02-02 07:22:57 GMT. 2 comments. Top.
I had a much needed break from my computer at my Aunt Sarah’s house in Maleny on the weekend. Melody, Tess, Sarah and I drank many bottles of champagne, cooked chops by torchlight and talked about life, love and boys. There was no mobile reception, the moon was full, the food was delicious and the company was perfect. No photos of the late night skinny dip though…
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Afternoon in the backyard
Last modified on 2010-02-02 07:00:58 GMT. 3 comments. Top.
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