holey moley

There's a pool-shaped hole in my backyard that by summer will morph into something like this. we're going for huge rectangular pavers, with a square edge for a classic look. And yep, we're having a pool ladder rather than stairs. It's reminiscent of the ocean baths and it's a look I'm smitten with. All I need now is a red one piece swimsuit to wear when I drape myself around the edges... yes, with a cocktail... and pink toenails...

and now for something completely different

Reading Julie and Julia has inspired me to try something I wouldn't normally cook for dinner. Strangely enough it's not a complex french dish - but a simple quiche. I've never made one, but think that I'd quite like to. Eggs, bacon and pastry - the best things in life.

specially engineered

If you'd told me 20 years ago that I would marry an engineer, I would have scoffed. At uni there were no two more disparate groups than communications students and engineers. And yet, we met, fell in love and 15 years later are still besotted. Nice huh.

He's also useful. With complex backyard renovations going on it's handy for someone with a mathematical brain and engineering logic to go out and chat with the builders every day to ensure walls are built in the right spot and at the correct angle. I make the builders coffee.

20 years ago I thought I wanted someone who read me Shakespeare's love sonnets in bed. I'd be bored of that now. I want someone who makes me laugh, shares my dreams and complements me (not in a "gee, you look gorgeous way" although, that's nice too). And if they also like Sex and the City and buy me Manolos... sold.

je ne comprends pas

I've been puzzling over KK's hair for, like, days now. The fug girls brought it to my attention, other blogs have mused over it, and I still just don't get it. It's just not Vogue sweetie.

And let's not even go into the outfit...

currently reading

When I opened this pressie this morning I squealed. Can't wait to immerse myself it its pages - and be inspired to whip up the odd french feast.

birthday girl

Some people never lose their childish sense of anticipation and delight. They just adore birthdays and squeal excitedly at every gift-wrapped token of affection.

I'm one of them. Today's my birthday and I'm so, so happy!

vive la difference

I think you always want what you don't have which is why I think redheads are divine. Look at this bunch of beauty from www.ararebreed.blogspot.com

Little girls with strawberry blonde curls make my heart sing. It's the same with the grown ups too - boys and girls. If I had a lush head of titian I'd forever wear emerald green, brilliant blue, pink, and of course, red. And walk around with a parasol in the harsh Aussie sun!

what goes up

I think I'm too empathetic. My moods are seriously governed by what's around me - what I see, hear and watch other people do. That's one of the reasons why we don't watch televised news - I'll read the headlines, but I don't want to see the gore. 

Yesterday I floated home singing Dancing Queen and The Winner Takes It All after seeing Mamma Mia - an uplifting film if ever I'd seen one. I adored it and just want to go see it again. But then, last night, because my husband was out on a boy's night, I thought I'd catch a 'girly' film on Foxtel. My choices were PS I Love You and Atonement. Now, had I not had a memory like a sieve, I would have remembered reading Atonement, but no, that only came back to me about 30 minutes into the film.

Subsequently, at the end of the film I was left feeling more deflated than Mamma Mia left me feeling inflated. I tried to concentrate on the gorgeousity of the riotous mix of florals in the stately home. Nope, didn't bring me up. Then I thought of the magnificent bouquet Keira Knightly carried, with Peonies, Larkspur and other English cottage beauties. Didn't do it either. The green frock Keira wore... oooh, almost lifted me up.

So now, with husband and daughter off to do the final bits of birthday shopping, I'm going to elevate my mood. I've just washed my hair and it smells delightfully of Angel Wash and Angel Rinse (Kevin Murphy - brilliant, and just perfect for my fine curly hair), I have a little antique glass jug filled with sprigs of jasmine on my desk, I'm going to make myself a cup of Violette tea in my lavender tea cup and browse through some blogs to lift myself right up again.

so vanilla

I'm very traditional in my dessert tastes. If there's a creme brulee I'll be cracking the top and diving in. But, I like my brulee vanilla... or so I thought. Last night we went to the gorgeous Bistro Tartine for my birthday dinner. I had the most exquisite pork belly, Matt had the duck confit and Annabella had, from the child's menu, roast pork, sauteed potatoes and veg (um, hello, it was pork belly, potatoes probably cooked in duck fat and lemon green bean - for only $9 - perfect for mini gourmet tastebuds!). For afters I couldn't go past the brulee - although I did hesitate because it was chocolate.

Oh.

My.

God.

A dusting of bitter chocolate coated the most perfectly crisp caramelised top that cracked satisfyingly when whacked with a spoon. Diving in was a heavenly, chocolate creme - oh. It was bitter, yet sweet, rich, yet not cloying. Chef, take a bow. 

Annabella and I shared, but if she wasn't my child, I would have hogged every single morsel. 

oh mamma

We had a girly day today and Annabella and I went off to see Mamma Mia. As a major Abba fan, who's bred another one, it was sheer delight. I'm now pining for a trip to the greek isles and need to decorate, something, anything, in blue. Meryl Streep is also my new role model - she's just gorgeous - all the gals were.

One thing I didn't understand. Reviews mentioned the godawfulness of Pierce Brosnan's voice, but, well, he wasn't bad. He wasn't great, but I loved the fact he sang. 

Oh, and Colin Firth in the wet white shirt? Gotta love referencing of the gorgeous kind. 

I love a film that lifts the spirits and this one sure did that for me. Such a nice way to spend a birthday weekend.

lavender love

I adore lavender oil. Adore it. Today I've found yet another use for it- removing the sticky residue from sticky tape or stickers. 

I was cleaning off marks around the light switches today, when my brow furrowed at the sight of goopy, grey marks left on the back of the front door from an abundance of sticky tape. (long story: used to have a long, pokey out screw coming from the handle and my husband worried that child would impale her forehead on it when scootering down the hall - so he liberally coated it in sticky tape.) Since we've now re-installed the door handle with a shorter screw we've taken off the sticky tape, and the goopy marks have remained. But no more.

Today, I thought I'd try to use some lavender oil on a cotton ball to remove it - just like you do with eucalyptus oil - and it worked. I rubbed, and the marks vanished. Plus, now my front door is scented with lavender. Mmmm. It also worked on a sticker mark so old it was probably at my third birthday party. True.

pour moi?

In honour of my 41st birthday on Monday, here is Saturday's shoe (on friday, I know, think I might rename it Shoe of the Week). A red patent mary jane created with aching beauty by that artiste, Manolo Blahnik. How can you not bow down at his genius?

it's my party

Well, not exactly. I hit the big 4 0 last year and had the pink and red themed soiree to go with it. But it's my birthday on Monday so we're off to our favourite french restaurant for dinner tonight. To go with the theme, Annabella's wearing her beret, and I'm going adorned in my black lace top I bought on the Isle St Louis (I am incapable of thinking of that place without sighing...) I'll also take the handbag I fell in love with in the same shop - but didn't buy.

Cute story. Because I'd already bought a handbag in Tuscany, I had to resist the gorgeous little black handbag with the leather bow around it. But I really, really regretted it. A year later, as friends were planning their month-long holiday in Paris, staying on the Isle St Louis (I know, if they weren't the nicest people I know I'd hate them) I mentioned, "Oh, if you happen to see this cute little handbag, with a bow, in a shop just opposite Bertillon, text me..." 

Upon their return poor Georgina had her eardrums burst with my squeal when she'd bought my bag - the last one in the store. Serendipitous or what?

dig in

Oh, I am so excited. Although the skies are grey, diggers have been in my backyard for four hours! My pool is finally taking shape. It's a slow, slow process and believe me, I've been trying so hard to be "zen" about it all that I almost calmed myself into a coma. But there's progress, messy, clay-ridden, "please keep my convict sandstone blocks", coffee-making progress. It may have been months since the DA approval, but at least it looks like I'm getting a pool now, not just a barren wasteland where my yard used to be.

Happiness is a big red digger (and not just for 3 year old boys!).

hanging by the telephone

Having been married for quite a few years, and coupled for substantially longer, I thought my days of wistfully waiting by the phone - will he call, won't he... were way gone. But, oh no, fate doesn't like you to be a smug married with no woes. Our backyard renovation saga is continuing, or should I say dragging? From the first clearing, way back in June, to the first excavation in July, to now. August. My builder promised, today, if it's clear, first thing. Today. It's clear. No thing. 

I feel like an expectant teen, my heart leaping, not at the expected sight of my lust object appearing from around a corner, but at what could quite possibly be a dump truck driving up the street. Only to be disappointed when it's a dump truck, but not my dump truck.

Anywhoodle. Tomorrow. If there's no rain. Absolutely. Or maybe Friday. For sure...

in short

When I was a wee lass, long talons were where it was at. If your nails didn't zoom on out way past the tips of your fingers, you were nobody. But now, I'm in lust with the fact that short nails are the only way to go. See, I love playing netball, and I'm also fond of a well-polished nail. But, unless you want to look like a girly weirdo with taped nails, you've got to cut your nails short to hit the field. 

These days, as fashion dictates, short nails look mighty fine with a strong coverage of colour. Today I'm channelling a deep, dark mocha and when I'm over that look, I'm dusting off and painting on a bright orange to sunshine up my mood a notch.

i just don't get it

I am quite possibly one of the biggest fans of Sex and the City, and, undoubtedly, Carrie's number one admirer. However, while I get so many things about her, I can't come to grips with her taste in men. I've already mused about Berger (erk), and let's not get into the Jazz Man with the pork pie hat (...?) and while Big has a certain appeal, I'm just not feeling it. But here's where I go completely spare. Aiden. I love Aiden. I would never let Aiden go. He's hot, he's thoughtful, he calls her PopTart (which inexplicably makes me tingle) and on the episode last night, she came home and he was cooking TO Copacabana. Now, when a straight man's getting his groove on to the tale of Lola, the showgirl, that's it, I've got one melted heart happening in my chest. 

Why?

habitually tidy

My husband and I (good grief, how Queen-like does that sound - or is that just in my head?) have been instituting good habits lately. We're becoming tidy people. We're becoming people that don't mind if you just "drop in" 'cause the house looks just fine. Not perfect, that'd be weird, but fine. 

We've been all domestically blissful and tidying together. You know, stacking the dishwasher straight after dinner, putting the clean clothes away into drawers, rather than just shifting piles of folded stuff from one surface to another. And it's nice. 

You see, I like my house, it's pretty. And it's always been offensive when its prettiness has been obscured by crap. I've also discovered that the best thing is that tidying begets tidying. Because everything's in the right place, we'll tend to then move on and clean out a drawer, or a shelf, or wash a window or two.

We've been keeping on top of the gardens too, and today, I only spent 15 minutes weeding - rather than it being a 15 hour job (truly! Cottage gardens are much more labour-intensive than they look!) This also meant we could get in and deal with some other fiddly jobs that are normally pushed back in an attempt to hack away at the weed situation.

It's been nearly two weeks now since we've established these fine habits, and I'd quite like to stick to them.

shoe business

Yep, it's Saturday's shoe... on Sunday. Sorry! But it's Marc Jacobs - and it's really, really keyoot!

smitten chicken

In my early carnivorous years chicken was my favourite meat. These days though, chicken doesn't always rock my boat. I do love spanish chicken, but probably because it's an excuse to eat chorizo. Hence, tonight's meal - an excuse to eat prosciutto... should you need one.

Chicken sausages

500g chicken mince

1/4 cup fresh bread crumbs (I used a piece of dry baguette)

1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley

1 small onion, finely diced or grated

the zest of 1 lemon

salt and pepper

12 slices prosciutto

Mix together all ingredients in a bowl (use your hands, go on, just wash them well afterwards). Then, after wetting your hands, form the mince into sausage-like fingers. Leave to rest for 10 minutes then wrap in prosciutto. Heat a little olive oil in a pan till piping hot then start to saute sausages till golden brown on all sides and cooked through. So yum.