clean sweep

In a first, today I dropped off four massive bags at the Salvos... and walked out with nothing! I'm all inspired by that man who, on the weekend, gave away all his belongings - yep, everything. Now, there's no way I'm going that far, but simplifying my house would be a big improvement. I'm starting with magazines. I have a scary amount on the bookshelf in my study - so many that there's no room for books, and novels're piled high on all my smaller bookshelves rather than luxuriating in the space they deserve. 

I must say that for years I bemoaned what the net would do to publishing and it's obviously having a huge impact on magazines - with readership dropping off in so many categories. Now, while I can never imagine reading a book on-line (I still love me a bound book) a magazine's a whole different kettle of fish... one that's slightly on the turn. I never thought I'd say this, but magazines aren't doing that much for me any more. I open them, skim them, and quickly move on. The trashy gossip mags are the worst. They're not even a guilty pleasure when most of the content is blatantly fabrication (Jen! So Sad: Jen! In love: Jen: My wedding plans...) I'm glad that most of my fave mags have websites though... I can't give 'em up cold turkey.

So today, it was Buh Bye to Donna Hay and Notebook: two mags I've kept lovingly since the start, but rarely ever refer back to. It's been spesh, but it's time for me to ditch the dust-gathering mags and make space for some new novels - I need to feed my brain. 

if you can't say anything nice

Then just shush, shhht, shut it or zip it. What's with those people who are ever so free with the negative comments? You know the ones, they're happy to meet you, greet you and then say, "Wow, you've put on weight" (or, as a girl did to me when I was in my twenties, poked me in the tummy and said "you're putting on the beef"). What's the point? Seriously, when I've put on weight, it hasn't escaped my notice. I know it's there and, chances are, I'm dealing with it - or ignoring it. It's the same with the sympathetic "oooh, you look tired". What the? If I'm tired the last thing I need is someone telling me I look pale, wan, puffy eyed and crappy. It won't inspire me to go home and take a nap, it'll just make me feel even worse than I already do. 

Are these people honestly happy for people to say the same to them? Um, doubt it. Personally I like to move through life effecting positive changes. I'd prefer to compliment someone, and normally you don't have to look too hard to find something nice to say. A deftly served compliment is the simplest way to give someone a boost.

Of course now that I'm more mature and wouldn't be quite so devastated by a negative comment it rarely happens, but next time it does I'm going to raise an eyebrow (probably my left, I can't seem to get the right one to move independently) and in a puzzled tone enquire "Why would you say that?"

party time, excellent

A good party is a rare and wonderful thing. It's a delicate balance, where so many aspects have to be in harmony, and if they're not, it's all a bit meh.

Well, I went to a fabulous party on the weekend. For a start, it was for a pretty spesh bloke who's managed to accumulate a number of diverse and interesting friends (which ticks the first box of party must-haves). Just like a dinner party should have an eclectic bunch of people gathered, so should a party. Too much similarity can lead to boredom, and a boring party. I met some amazing new people, caught up with old friends, and learned to love some people I'd admired on fleeting acquaintance. 

Secondly, the location was perfection. The right size space, decent moody, yet not-too-dim lighting, and sections where people could sit, stand or feel inspired mingle. That's why a party in a large, open space doesn't work. A party is like a garden, you shouldn't be able to see everything at first glance. You need to be led around, with surprises and delights around corners. 

Decent alcohol is, of course, a must, and finally - really good music. Music makes the party. Music needs to enhance your mood, move things forward and every now and again cause you to squeal excitedly "Oooh, I love this song!" and to do a little dance on the spot. When you have a party that people will continue to talk about for at least as long as you've been on the earth, you know you've had a hit.

better the devil

I was feeling a bit grumpy and put upon today - and the grey squally skies sure didn't help. You know those days where things go wrong and you feel as though it's someone sending a message (probably just one saying, "um, they're only little teeny tiny problems - get over it"...) Anyway I grumped on in the front door, decided to switch on the telly for a bit of mindlessness to cheer me up and saw The Devil Wears Prada playing. Well did it turn my frown upside down! 

Meryl - magnificent as always - will cheer me any day. And the montage of gorgeous outfits to Madonna's Vogue? Oh baby, you're playing my song. It also proved that while colour is divine, nothing is more chic than black.

Apart from making me strongly covet strings of Chanel beads (which, even if I DO win a million dollars I couldn't justify) it also gave me shivers of bliss at the first sight of the Eiffel Tower sparkling with thousands of lights. Paris always makes me smile.

a study in contrast

Is there really such a thing as clashing colours? Personally a combination of two raunchy hues will always make me smile. Pink and orange, pink and red, pink and yellow... that's what summer's all about. Or for the cooler months there's purple and red, purple and electric blue or purple and mint green. Polka dots and florals also pass muster. What are you favourite combos?

brain drain

When your brain decides to skip off on a holiday, abandoning you to a period of utter confusion you know it's time to get organised. My brain is off, presumably sunning itself on a deck chair somewhere, which is kind of selfish as I'm finding it difficult to function without it. 

If I only had a brain I wouldn't: forget really, really important things. Nor would I flit from unimportant task to mindless faffing back to silly superficialities again. 

Come back brain, all is so forgiven. In the meantime, I'm clearing my desk and writing down a complete and utter plan of action. Brain or no brain things are going to happen around here.

beautifully bland

When it comes to gorgeous I like a bit of quirk. If I were ever to have a nose job, it'd be so they could form me up a romanesque number. 

It always entertains me how every now and again magazines, papers and plastic surgeons will trumpet their latest finding on "The Perfect Face" and you look at it and think, "Yeah, pretty" and quickly forget about it. 

With so much attention paid to plastic surgery these days I worry about what's going to be considered the norm: rockmelons cut in half and placed on a set of ribs? That's what bugs me about shows like Extreme Makeover. Ultimately these people have problems, but usually it's down to rock bottom self-esteem and poor fashion sense. And that's what I love, love, love about programs such as Look Better Naked. I want Gok Wan to be my best friend. The transformation that man can wrought in just a few weeks is utterly phenomenal. 

I recall one episode where the girl hated her legs - hated them. She always wore tights, always, she even had a 'special' pair for when, ahem, she and her husband were intimate. Of course, Gok convinced her to bare her pins - and they were a damn fine pair of legs. Not Giselle's legs, but a pretty pair nonetheless. At the end of these programs the women strut on out reveling in their unique beauty and glowing with confidence. Vive la difference... 

loafing around

Revisiting childhood favourites is one of my most adored cooking adventures. And when they're also appreciated by my child, well, all the better. I've made a few meatloafs lately and we've all gobbled them down. A slice of loaf topped with gravy, some mash and some greens is a homey kind of meal that we've all been digging.

Tonight I'm going to try a different slant - lamb, mint and pinenut meatloaf. Never made it before, and no, I don't have a recipe, but here's how I'm going to do it.

Meatloaf

500g lamb mince

2 eggs

1/2 cup fresh grated breadcrumbs

4 strips of finely diced bacon 

a good 1/4 cup or so of fresh chopped mint

salt and pepper

Topping

pinenuts

dried mint leaves

I'll mix all the ingredients except the pinenuts together with my hands then toss them into a loaf tin, smooshing down well. Then I'm going to stud the top with the pinenuts, and maybe sprinkle dried mint leaves over the top as well, I love their peppery bite. I'll bake it for around an hour at 160 degrees, and if the top starts browning so much it resembles George Hamilton, I'll cover it with foil.

I'm going to serve it with finely sliced rounds of potato, tossed in olive oil, lemon and salt, before baking on a tray till they're crispy. Then I'll put a salad of diced tomato, cucumber and shallots on the side. Sounds yum doesn't it?

opposites attract

Here's a new motivational method I'm trying. See, the thing is, I loathe repetition. Sometimes I'll think, "If I have to unload this dishwasher one more time, I'm pretty sure screaming will result". But of course, I do have to empty the dishwasher as it's one of my chores. So I'm going to try doing a George Costanza and do things in the opposite way. Instead of starting at the top of the dishwasher and working my way down, I'll work my way up. Making the bed? I'll start on my side, then move around to Matt's. I'll sweep the bedrooms, then move toward the kitchen... It'll work, my brain's easily amused and confused. Surely with my new program of rewards and re-works things'll start to happen around here.

you were saying?

Now, I recall a few years ago, Baz Luhrman saying that botox was so not a good idea for actresses. And, if my memory serves, I am pretty sure he intimated that he'd quite prefer to use actresses whose faces did move in his films.

Well, I'm sure looking forward to his new film Australia where Nicole Kidman is presumably playing a porcelain doll who sits on a shelf, only to be taken down from time-to-time by Hugh Jackman's sensitive, doll-loving character. 

Or maybe, just as Keira Knightly acts with her jaw, Nicole can express a variety of emotions with her oh-so-emotive pupils.

Because really, does this face look like it moves?

punctuation marks

Having always been a flitter, and sometimes a quitter, I realised that one thing I really need to do is concentrate on one task at a time, complete it, and move on. It was this middle bit that got me. See, I'd concentrate on a task, do a bit of it, then move on. Silly. 

So instead, I've decided to punctuate my tasks. I start off Grandly (with a big capital letter) on the hardest part of the task, force myself to finish it, then punctuate it with a full stop. For example, when I'm cleaning that full stop is a spritz of lovely-smelling room spray to make my completely tidy room smell of Vanilla Bean (Bloom Room Spray - yummy) or Lavender (Trelivings - mmmmm). It's helping. Like a child tempted with the thought of ice cream after the brussell sprouts, a swish smelling room entices me to complete a task.

So now I'm off to make my bed, with my lavender-scented sheets and when it's done - spritz - a double-whammy of lavender bliss to ensure sweet dreams. Zzzzzzzzz.

sartorially speaking

Dressing for an event is quite a treat. Sometimes I'm pretty sure I enjoy the preparation more than the actual do. Before any big event I'll start planning a few weeks out and I'll either start with the top, or the bottom. Starting at the bottom means shoes - of course, while at the top it means eyeshadow. For example, I have a friend's 40th do coming up in a week and I've planned the frock (deep amethyst), hair (out and adorned with big, red flowers), lips (rouge) eyes (cats eye and a bit of gold glittery shadow - subtle, yet festive) and shoes (strappy red). But tomorrow night, I have a do, and no idea what to do...

See, I'm seeing David Sedaris. Yes, David Sedaris. I know, David Sedaris!! Now, I adore this man, I've laughed so much at his words I was worried I'd spit my teeth across the room (and no, I don't have falsies, they're firmly implanted in my gums). He demands respect. And let's face it, even if he weren't the oh-so-amusing David Sedaris, he'd still be Amy Sedaris's brother - and that's something worth frocking up for.

To top it off, his reading's been moved from some grungy Surry Hills club to The Sydney Opera House - and that place politely requests furs and jewels and a certain amount of polish. Shall I go with the Fleur Wood 50s style black chiffon skirt with the pale pink silk underlay, Wheels and Doll Baby ballet neckline top, fishnets and my black patent, t-bar platform stiletto (I know, long description, but they're worth it) with long black and pale pink beads? And perhaps a black flower in my hair (I know what you're thinking, black flower in black curly hair... the point? But it's a cute surprise when you get up close). Plus, because it's cold, I can bring out my black fur - can't I (most of it's fake, only the collar's real so Peta advocates shan't be throwing paint at me - surely). Thoughts?

sunny sundays

There's a whiff of Spring in the air today. The skies are achingly blue, my garden's filled with the intoxicating scent of jasmine and mini verdant leaves are budding all over my Robinia tree in the front yard. I'm a sucker for all the seasons and love to greet and acknowledge every one. So today, to honour the coming of spring, a little cleaning is in order. Dust has settled over almost every surface in my kitchen and living room thanks to a combination of heavy earth works in the backyard and ill-fitting windows in a 100 year + house. A couple of clean cloths, a bucket of hot water spritzed with a few drops of lime essential oil and a good scrubbing arm will see them right.

so not Pammy

Because I got some money for my birthday I thought I might splash out on a red one piece swimsuit for summer. However, when I told my hubby he said, "Oh, that's a bit Baywatch" and now I'm flummoxed. Surely a classy red one piece, on me, a brunette who's all natural (well, except for my hair colour...) wouldn't instantly connote Pammy. Would it?

Also, hello, that boat. So reminds me of the fabulous taxis on the Grand Canal in Venice...

toe and fro

Pedicures are the best. While I can't be bothered with manicures (I'd much rather do it myself), I do like a bit of pedi action. However, why is it that despite the wide range of colours salons seem to offer, I can rarely find anything to suit my exacting standards? I had a pedi today and wanted either a bright neon orange or pale sky blue to decorate my toes. Do you think they had those? Non. Merely an orange that was really a red in disguise, and a navy. So I eventually chose a pretty pale green, which I'm kinda digging and think I might need to track down. It's an O.P.I shade and quite puts me in a spring frame of mind. Now I need to change my deep, dark fingernails to suit. Chanel English Rose springs to mind as the perfect foil...

real men do eat quiche

And gals like me cook them. My homemade quiche last night was a delicious success. I'm aiming to make something I've never made before, in a style radically different to my usual, every week. Here's how I made this one (from my fave Food of France cookbook)

Quiche Lorraine

Preheat oven to 200 degrees.

Pastry:

220g plain flour

pinch of salt

150g cold butter

1 egg yolk

2-3tbsp cold water

Sift flour and salt into a bowl, then dice up butter and rub the butter into the flour with your fingers till it resembles wet sand. Then add the egg yolk and water mixing into the dough with a palette knife (I used a butter knife) till it just starts to form a dough. Then mould it into a ball with your hands, cover with cling wrap and refrigerate for 30 mins. 

Remove from fridge, roll out and place in a tart tin (now, mine shrunk a fair bit, even though I stabbed the base with a knife, I'd have a few cms overhang next time) and line with baking paper and beans or baking beads. Refrigerate for 10 mins.

Bake in a preheated 200 degree oven for 10 minutes, then take out paper and beans and cook for 3-5 minutes or until golden. Turn oven down to 180 degrees

300g smoked, streaky bacon

50g butter

3 eggs

300ml double cream

salt, pepper and fresh nutmeg to taste

Melt butter in frypan and fry diced bacon for 10 minutes or until so crispy and delicious you're almost fainting with joy. Remove and drain on kitchen paper. Mix together beaten eggs and cream before mixing in salt, pepper and nutmeg.

Sprinkle bacon over the base of the pie dish then pour the topping over top. Place in a 180 degree oven for 30 minutes, or until filling is set.

Remove from oven when it's golden brown and almost cry in delight (or is that just me?)

The best thing is that I had about 1/2 the dough leftover, because my dish is so small, so I'm making mini tarts to take to a friend's on the weekend! 1/2 quiche lorraine, 1/2 blue cheese and walnut. Oooooh yeah.

so eye see

Experimenting with eyeshadow is one of my fave activities. Today, 'cause I'm wearing a pale green top, I decided to line my eyes with a fabulous purple-pink shadow... but then I looked like I had a bad case of pink-eye - and that's not pretty. So I then lashed out and piled my lashes with electric blue mascara and whoa - perfect peepers!

making me happy today

* the blue, blue sky

* teeny little lamingtons with a cup of tea

* the stocks and sweet peas my hubby and daughter bought for my birthday. Still blooming in a riot of shades of mauve, violet and lavender - perfect against the Laduree green of our living room walls

* watching the landscapers lug our huge sandstone blocks from the old retaining wall and knowing that we can reuse them in our new drystone wall

* the soundtrack to Mamma Mia helping me revisit the joy of the film

* deciding to make quiche and a salad for dinner

* all the new shoots on my roses - so rich and plentiful

* comments from new blog friends

every gal

Needs a shed. A pretty shed, covered in roses and other climbing delights. We're planning on installing a pretty shed around the corner of our house, under the sheltering arms of our Golden Ash. It too will be pretty, and may well feature window boxes, with pink and red geraniums spilling forth. It'll have gables, panelled windows and a cute little door. And it will be grey and white - to match the house, with accents of violet, naturally.

discovery channelled

Hot shoe of the week. Gorgeous femme Sara put me onto these, and boy, do I likee. So much so that shoe of the week is moving so far forward that's it almost beyond shoe of the day and into shoe of the moment. Peep toes, patent, buckles, a jaunty angle to that strap... meow.