Friday, 17 July 2009
Thursday, 16 July 2009
Wednesday, 15 July 2009
addicted
I am so in love with etsy. And here is my latest purchase; completely awesome coffee cup cozies. Courtesy of the very talented Laura, I feel like my bordering-on-dangerous coffee addiction is now doing some good for the planet. No more corrugated cardboard holder thingo's for me. I have this owly one for the office cafe and another with a funky blue vespa for travelly cups when I'm out and about.
Go visit Laura Bucci's store.
letters to cushendall
The gorgeous Ms Frou Frou is embarking on a letter writing project, and she has me thinking about the romance of handwritten letters. And I found this awesome project. Lenka Clayton and Michael Crowe sent a personal, handwritten letter to each of the 467 households in the small Irish village of Cushendall.
From Lenka's site 'the letters were positive in spirit, and differed greatly in form and content. We hope these beautiful unsolicited letters will prompt neighbourly discussion that will spread across the town, promoting community curiosity. When compared between neighbours, no two will be the same'. The recipients in the village were all a twitter and the local BBC story is here.
Apparently this is the first stage of their eventual aim to write a personal, hand-written letter to every household in the world. Which, given Royal Mail's imminent strike action, is ambitious to say the least.
Tuesday, 14 July 2009
'everything under the sun is in tune, but the sun is eclipsed by the moon'
There is something about the moon landing that makes my heart soar. As a seven year old, I remember my favourite teacher Mr Lusher talking about this incredibly important, crazy mission, that men had actually left our planet just over 10 years ago. He talked about how lucky we were to be alive in this time of curiosity and discovery because who knows what would happen in our lifetime? I remember him being a total science geek (he also played the guitar, and did special voices for Roald Dahl books). He was passionate about what we could do and be with our lives: he did not believe in limits for kids. So as far as Room 4 at Waikouaiti Primary was concerned, we were all going to be astronauts, no question.
I have never lost that excitement for this time we are living in. The possibilities that technology, curiosity and sheer bloody determination creates are so thrilling to me. And amongst the events in Iran, the Economageddon, eye-wateringly overpaid vacuous footballers and reality tv stars; this sense of hopefulness is important. With the benefit of 40 years of hindsight, the Guardian has dedicated many pages to what the Apollo 11 mission means to us as a species. Messers Rutherford and Fong say it more beautifully than I ever could:
'Apollo 11 was a fulfilment of the pure positivity of human nature, our desire to explore. It's that unique human attribute that caused our deep ancestors to cross the oceans that resulted in our conquering this planet. For better or worse, it is our nature. There will come a time when we will be unified in recognising 19 July 1969 as the first small step towards humanity's destiny: to live on other planets. It will not happen in our lifetimes, but it will in our kids', and their children will know no different. Whatever the motivations, landing on the moon was the most awesome realisation of that destiny. That is why we, humankind, should commit not only to going back, but to seek out other strange new worlds.
Ultimately, this is not a subject that lends itself easily to objective debate. You can march through the arguments, for and against, factual, economical, scientific or emotional, and people tend not to budge one way or the other. Recent polls suggest that the majority of the public are still in favour of human space exploration. It is because planetary exploration is an idea so big and a concept so bold that it spans the boundaries between scientific disciplines and spills over to engage the wider public. And heaven help us we need that. It appeals to people as human beings at a visceral and emotional level, and in so doing helps to inspire and deliver the next generation of scientists. It is in that benefit, not just to science but to our society and culture, that the true legacy of Apollo lies. Unless you're some miserable git who sat on the sofa in the summer of '69 trying to look really unimpressed by some bloke walking on the moon for the first time in the history of the universe'.
More photos here.
Monday, 13 July 2009
the sheila's, the watercress mousse and the whales on the floor
I spent Sunday afternoon lunching with a very gorgeous fellow kiwi blogger, Leonie. It was awesome to hear the familiar musical tones of a voice from home. The sun shone outside while at my favourite cafe with the beautiful tiled floor, we shared a bottle of cold Chablis and the most amazing watercress mousse; we chatted about home over there and living here and whanau and our lovely bloggin' sisters. It was one of those I know we've just met but I've known you for years and years, kind of lunches. And Leonie has the bluest eyes and wore the prettiest frock. We are so going to hook up our gentleman callers for an awesome foursome kiwi extravanganza.
I am totally getting into the bloggy date scene. Who's next?!
two years from home
Two years ago today I was trying to fit all essential items into a suitcase. To say goodbye to someone I knew I would never see again. And attempting to prevent the five baby rabbits bouncing around in my belly from making me throw up. I was heading home. Back to Welly harbour, long blacks, cabbage trees and pohutakawa, the Listener, National Radio, the Brooklyn Windmill. Bare feet and hokey pokey ice cream. Popping in for coffee. The mountains.
And then I landed. In winter. I had forgotten about the southerly wind. And the bloody earthquakes. The overwhelming sense of being very very far away from everything. And the realisation that when you're home (and it's raining) there is nowhere to run to: you just have to suck it up, princess.
Two years later, we are waiting for all of our belongings to arrive from New Zealand, Rex the Alphacat will be packing his things into a little suitcase preparing for his journey in a few weeks, and we move into the new house at the end of the month. And now that I’m with him, I feel like I really am home.
‘You know that point in your life when you realise the house you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of a sudden even though you have some place where you put your shit, that idea of home is gone. You'll see one day when you move out it just sort of happens one day and it's gone. You feel like you can never get it back. It's like you feel homesick for a place that doesn't even exist. Maybe it's like this rite of passage, you know. You won't ever have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for your kids, for the family you start; it's like a cycle or something. I don't know, but I miss the idea of it, you know. Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people that miss the same imaginary place’ ~ Largeman, The Garden State
Saturday, 11 July 2009
electrify her with your new rod
A lovely antidote to the daily email offers for penis enlargement: Art Director Elliot Burford has illustrated all that raunchy spam. Brilliant.
