4 October 2008
long time coming
Seems I don't have much time for blogging, although there's lots going on here behind the scenes. The menfolk have gone off to see Melbourne Victory play Queensland Roar (or something like that) so I have a precious couple of hours to listen to Vivaldi and knit and see what you've all been up to.
And me, you ask? Well.
The children have been on school holidays for two weeks which led to me taking one week off work, and in the second week the mister and I juggled and tag-teamed the parenting. Thankfully it's been semester break at my book-learnin' place too, so apart from the first couple of days when I was writing a paper and the boys had to rediscover the joys of reading and playing Lego without parental intervention, I have had some time to do things with them (like go to the Show, or hang out by the river, or instruct them in the finer arts of vacuuming, or go rockclimbing).
Sporadic, scattered knitting has taken place with more dishcloths, more green vest, more Haruha scarf, more Luminare socks and now god help me, a brown mohair shawl (hmm, not sure about that last one but I needed some chartless, mindless dvd knitting and so I cast it on. And hey, why did no one ever tell me shawls are quick and easy?)
I've become obsessed with baking two things. Nigella's Breakfast Bars (which I think I originally saw on Ali's blog but can't now find the link), and lemon cake. I have baked these two items every weekend for about the past seven weeks.
Some fabulous books have been devoured. Dear BB, noting my recent penchant for historical fiction, put me onto Sandra Gulland's excellent trilogy about Josephine Bonaparte. I gobbled up the first two (note to self: put third one on hold). They are written as diary excerpts and letters and are chock full of tidbits, anecdotes and fabulous detail.
Prior to those I read Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat Pray Love to see what all the fuss was about. A quick and entertaining read but it smacked of rich white spoilt woman too much to be truly enjoyable for me.
In the car ... oh and by the way, meet my newest love! It doesn't belch smoke, or shudder violently when stopped at traffic lights, all the door handles work and the radio doesn't mysteriously turn itself on when I go over bumps. Nor is it sixteen years old. It's all round good stuff.
Where was I? Oh yes, In my car. In my car, my new, blue, shiny, pretty car, I'm listening to more historical fiction.
I'm on a Philippa Gregory roll. I recently watched The Other Boleyn Girl (the movie, not the BBC improvised thingie) and thought it was so mediocre (except for the frocks which were very fetching and Eric Bana who was also rather fetching although swarthy which isn't usually my thing but hey he wore tights and a ruff) that, you know, I just ached for more. So I googled and discovered the general consensus that the book is better. What a surprise. And lo, my keyboard somehow put on hold every Philippa Gregory audio book it could find at the library and now I've listened to not only The Other Boleyn Girl (yes, heaps better than the movie) but am now onto The Virgin's Lover (about Elizabeth I and Robert Dudley) which gets a bit bodice-rippitty at times but is holding me in thrall. Next up is The Boleyn Inheritance and I am beginning to suspect that Ms Gregory is a bit of an English history nut.
I also listened to Joanne Harris' Chocolat which is truly madly deeply superior to the movie and was narrated by Alan Rickman's Truly Madly Deeply costar, the honey voiced Juliet Stevenson on whom I've had a crush ever since she and Mr Rickman sang When I'm Without Yoooouuuuu loudly and out of tune in her tumbly down full-of-dead-people London flat. Anyway, if you get a chance to read (or listen to) Chocolat I highly recommend it. Much darker and more poignant than the film and with a different but more satisfying ending. Interesting that the filmmakers chose to make the baddie the town mayor, rather than the priest as in the book. Hmm yes, funny, that.
And I will not let that segue into the frightening realm of American politics because if they win and he has a heart attack in the excitement of it all and she is in charge then I'm digging a great big hole in the backgarden and hiding for a few years. Or moving to Iceland with Bjork and the geysers.
In other news, Altissimo is flowering which means it's Spring around here.