The Dog Ate my Homework...

Except it wasn't a dog.
It was a cat.
And it wasn't my homework, but a library book.

This is the culprit.  Jazz.  Looking totally innocent.  Of course.

I really didn't enjoy telling the librarian that I was returning a damaged book.  It isn't the first time either.  I had to replace a book a friend lent me because Captain Psychotic decided to shred it.  He leaves my books alone though.

Which is fortunate.  I wouldn't want him to be totally exhausted.

There are less books in the house than there were (I have just completed a cull) but still too many.  Another obsession.

Sunday Selections #263

Sunday Selections was originally brought to us by Kim, of Frogpondsrock, as an ongoing meme where participants could post previously unused photos languishing in their files.
 
The meme is now continued by River at Drifting through life.  The rules are so simple as to be almost non-existent.  Post some photos under the title Sunday Selections and link back to River.  Clicking on any of the photos will make them embiggen.
 
Like River I usually run with a theme.  This week my theme is distractions.  Welcome distractions.  I am not in a good space physically, mentally or emotionally and all of these things helped.

We took a small excursion to our National Library to see an exhibition called Celestial Empire:  Life in China 1644-1911.  A free exhibition.  It wasn't the best I have seen and photographs of the exhibits were banned but I was blown away by the colours in some of the documents.  Hundreds of years old, and so vivid.

A snippet of information intrigued me too.  Apparently there was a time when China, Japan and Korea shared the same written language...

No photos of the exhibit, but some of the outside of the National Library.

This monkey has been set in place for the Chinese New Year.  I think it is on the grotesque side, and am intrigued by the solar panels.  I assume it lights up at night - and when Enlighten is on in a few weeks we will see...

  The next day we went to the Lifeline book fair.  Do I need any more books?  No.  Have I room for any more books?  No.  Did I buy books?  Of course.  Nearly thirty of them.

As a bonus, Wesley, a memoir written by a woman who shared her life with a Barn Owl for nineteen years, was amazing.  I guzzled it and will read it again.

I have also had some welcome distraction in the garden.  My pineapple lily (eucomis) is in flower.  This link will take you to some more information about it.

There are Bromeliads in flower too.

And we have naked ladies blooming in the back yard too.  Not the usual pink ones which appear to be sulking but some white beauties (also known as Belladonna lilies or Amaryllis).  Naked ladies because they bloom before the leaves appear.

Waste not, want not...

I have shared my life, and my home with a cat (or more commonly cats) all of my life.

And a home is not a home to me unless it includes at least one animal.  Just the same, it is also true that everything in our house is covered in a patina of cat fur.  I can vacuum, dust and clean until the cows come home and there will still be cat hair.  Everywhere.

Years back when an allergist requested that I bring a teaspoon from the vacuum to our first appointment what I took to him was dirty cat hair.  Interestingly of the ten most common allergens the only ones I am not allergic to are cat and dog hair.

I have frequently said that if only I could knit, I could knit another cat.

Which is why the smaller portion included this book with my Christmas presents this year.

And the author was not joking.  She does indeed make handicrafts from the cast-off fur from her cats, and those of her friends, and assures us that 'No cats were harmed in the making of this book'.

Finger puppets, coin purses, trinket boxes, book covers, portraits, badges...  This book contains a step by step guide to making these things - and more.

I laughed when I opened the parcel and read the book with a great deal of interest.  Her instructions are detailed, and I suspect quite easy to replicate.

Will I follow suit?  Not a chance.  I appreciate the work which goes into making them, but these are too cute for me.  Nauseatingly cute.  And far too fragile as well.  Like the cats they came from, these craft items would moult.  And none of them purr.

She is much, much more diligent than I am and less wasteful as well.  The piles, clumps, mounds  and mountains of fur that our cats discard will continue to collect in corners on their way to the compost bins.  And the vacuum.  And the furniture.  And our clothing.  And everywhere else as well. 

Sunday Selections #165

Sunday Selections was originally brought to us by Kim, of Frogpondsrock, as an ongoing meme where participants could post previously unused photos languishing in their files. 

The meme is now continued by River at Drifting through life.  The rules are so simple as to be almost non-existent.  Post some photos under the title Sunday Selections and link back to River.

Like River I usually run with a theme.  This week my theme is greed.

Each day at least five or six bird species visit us, and many of them eat from our feeders.  The pigeons are particularly insistent about their need for sustenance - and cram a quite astonishing number onto the feed trays.

The corellas, who are also greedy but not nearly so numerous are unimpressed.  They watch for a while...

and then take quite exceptional measures to get all the food to themselves.  They squeeze onto whichever of the feeders they can - and then throw the pigeons off.  Violently.  Dragging them  by the tail feathers and dropping them over the side is not uncommon.  And any pigeon who has the audacity to turn round and challenge the corellas is soundly rapped.  When I can watch without laughing, I will take a video of the scene.

The other greed I am featuring this week is mine.  Two sorts.

When the plumbers destroyed two garden beds and after some plant death in our long hot summer I felt justified in ordering a few spring bulbs.  As did my smaller portion.

And now we have four boxes of Spring bulbs to squeeze into the ground.  I am not going to admit just how many - but three figures is insufficient.  Oops.  Much weeding is underway.  Much work is required.  And, come spring when the blood, sweat and tears are a dim memory I will rejoice.

Yesterday afternoon, after I had weeded the back garden into a semblance of submission, the skinny one planted 50 liliums (twice flowering Matisse lilies and twice flowering Oriental liliums) since they were already shooting when they arrived.  The rest of the lilies will be squeezed somewhere into the front gardens.  

Some of you will remember I did a book cull recently.  The Lifeline book fair took place this weekend.  I wasn't going (really I wasn't).  Then my youngest brother rang and asked me to do a favour for him and pick up a dictionary when I went to the book fair.  So I went.  And picked up his dictionary.  And one or six other books too.  Oops again.

Unfulfilled Dreams

I have recently finished yet another biography 'Colette's France her lives, her loves' by Jane Gilmour.  As I expected, I loved it.  She lived a rich and full (even greedy) life, and didn't let anything get in her way.  She was a writer, an actor, a mime, a gardener, a lover of cats, a reader...

Some of her life was scandalous, think multiple and sometimes lesbian affairs, or appearing half-naked on stage.  Some of it was difficult.  I have, and cherish many of her books and knew some, but not all of her background.

I disliked her treatment of her mother, and even more her treatment of her daughter.  The only affair she had which caused me discomfort was the three year affair she had with her step-son.  While still married to his father.

The book was comprehensive, very readable and the photographs of places she lived in and loved filled me with envy.

Just the same, it is not the photographs or Colette's life which will stay with me.

A tiny snippet about her father haunts me.

'He also aspired to be a writer.  On the top shelf of the library was a row of books, inscribed with his handwritten titles.  But inside each one there was not a word, apart from a dedication to his wife.'

Unlike Edith Piaf, I do have regrets.  And most of them relate to things I haven't done rather than those I have.  To spend an entire life yearning to not only write but to have a thing of beauty to dedicate to his lover and yet to achieve nothing struck me as incredibly sad.  Did he have the talent?  His daughter certainly did, but he died long before her writing was recognised and applauded.  Would that have helped - or made it worse for him?
A sadness.

Two Blogger's Books

Many of you know that I am an unashamed bookoholic.

Here in the blogosphere I have found many, many talented people.  Who include authors (something which fills me with awe).  Lots of the authors here have found support and receive generous, and deserved, outpourings of bloggy love and appreciation.

The two bloggers I am featuring today seem to have slipped under the radar.  And, in addition, both of them are doing it tough at the moment and would, I am sure, appreciate a bit of love (and book purchases wouldn't go astray either).

Last year Cindi Summerlin who is one of those talented authors sent me her three books.  You can find her posts here.

You can buy it here

 The first of Cindi's books is the most directly autobiographical.  With Trooper, a rescue dog, she escaped an abusive relationship and both of them grew.  Yes, she made mistakes, but who of us can lay truthful claims to perfection.  There is laughter and there is pain in their journey.  Which sounds like life to me.  And, as a warning.  This book caused me to weep.  Several times.

Trooper is still a huge part of Cindi's life and I think it would be a very hard call to decide whether she gives him more support and love, or he gives more to her.

You can buy it here

And this one can be bought here

Trooper's Run also has an undercurrent of domestic violence, and again features Trooper (and Cindi's other animals too).  Sara Powell is running from her ex-husband Owen.  He is a truly nasty arrogant and vindictive man and is furious at her defection.  He is determined to track her down and 'make her pay'.  Sara has been forced to change her name and become Cidney and start a new life for herself  as far away from Owen as she can get.  This novel is a murder mystery, an exploration of human courage, draws skilfully on Indian mythology and includes romance and redemption for extra savour.

Eagle Visions is a sequel to Trooper's Run.  Cidney is happily married to her soul mate Dan, and has put the trauma of her relationship with Owen in the past.  If only it was that simple.
Cidney's deep spirituality and connection with the land and its protectors are pivotal to the course of yet another harrowing read which doesn't shy away from some very confronting issues.  I was intrigued at the way in which two very different, but equally believable reactions to the trauma of the 9/11 attacks were examined and explored.

The second blogger I am featuring in this post is Dana Joy Wyzard wbo blogs as Lotta Joy here.  And this is her book (and I hear she is planning a sequel).  And she better had.

You can buy it here

Another book with confronting issues.  Drugs, violence,  religion.  And an innocent caught up in it all, fighting for her life against impossible odds.  However, much to my pleasure, the innocent isn't the heroine.  That honour goes to an elderly widow, Nelda Pike, living alone in the backwoods town of Treadwell.  She is independent, capable and feisty to the max.  She is a firm believer in 'don't get mad, get even -and then keep going' and has a wonderful and lifelong friend of similar calibre.

I am tired of women who need men or youth to resolve the issues confronting them.  And this type of fatigue didn't get a look in as I read Dana's book.  I have heard a rumour that here too there is an element of autobiography.  And I am not surprised.  Grown men would certainly be wise to pull their own heads off (with apologies to Monty Python's Flying Circus) before facing Nelda in a rage - and I suspect the same is true of Dana.

Double Delight

I am addicted to reading.  I always have at least two books on the go.  One is usually non-fiction and the other fiction but I read (happily) from most genres.  And cannot imagine going a day without reading.  I once worked with a woman who had a stroke and lost, permanently, her ability to read and write.  And still consider it an almost impossible disability.

However, I am also addicted to books.  Old books or new.  I love their texture, their weight, their smell.  Which is probably at least part of the reason I am not happy with e-books.  I will read them when I have no choice, but...

Essentially I am an unashamed bookaholic.  And here in the blogosphere both sides of my addiction are more than catered for.

There are many talented writers, and I receive (and welcome) recommendations about their books, and other books that people have enjoyed.

In addition there is a talented group who MAKE books.  Which often starts with making the paper which is used.  I am in complete awe at their imagination, drive and technical skill.  Collage, printing, photography, embossing, origami, and the list goes on...

A little while ago this blog alerted me to an exhibition of hand-made books to be held in Canberra.  You can read a little more about it here. 

Today was the day.  Oh how I loved it.  And the expertise on display.  My role as an appreciator got a big, big work-out today, and I am still smiling.

So much talent.  And I was lucky enough to be there.

I took photos, but sadly they do not show any of the books to their best advantage.  The display cases were made of reflective glass, and the light wasn't the best.

Just the same, here are some of the ones I fell in love with.

Wow, wow and wow.

And the double delight?  I met up with one of the people who organised the exhibition, a talented blogger who I have followed since I first landed here.  I feel so very guilty that my photo of her book (another I loved which made my eyes leak) was too blurred to share.

And to indulge another of my obsessions I am also adding a photo of a the flower on a tree just outside the library.  I suspect it is a member of the bottle brush family - but it is very, very pretty.