whistling ninjakitty

Yay for kitties + bears, married six years today. Hm.

*calculates international dateline mumbo*

Six years today in twelve hours. . .time is a funny proposition, especially on the other side of the world ~_^

I woke to thoughtful pressie delight – once more, Apollo 18 rocks my world. Then, with quicktoast, shower + shave, we took our happiness SilverBeanExpress (‘It’s BEEN with 2 EeS!’) to the majestic Waterfall Gully, stopping along the way for baguettes, tomatoes + smokey cheeses; pear + apples, pecan pie, too. Thermos of Java comes standard on the flight, of course. While all of the hiking trails appeared to be closed (overhearing “FELL TO HIM DOOM” meanwhile) we just camped out behind a nice ex-tree while the sun blazed + the water fell + the people murmered + stomped dust from the trail.

A picture perfect of marital bliss ( @_@ ) – I paint octopus + hang the laudry while ‘relia re-paves the footpath in the backyard + repoints the brickwork that is fast succumbing to the relentless salty bay wind. Now we sip wine + wait to enjoy the sauce, thinking of all our far flung buddies + chemblies. WHAT UP, YO? Much love from the two of us.

Easter nutjobs. Too much deli action for my feet. Instant coffee to numb mind good.
Soon, brown rice to make it better, forgotten.

Until tomorrow.

Aurelia is arguing with Robyn + Stephen about whether or not Pocket is poncy + camp; ‘He is gay!’

Octopus still firmly gripping my brainmeats… re-reading the Famished Road (Ben Okri) – even better now. Going to beat down that octopus with palm wine, then head back into the desert.

Sooty says hello.

While it looks like we’re going to be able to eke out a few more sunny sunny days, already it’s brrr at night. Where has summer gone? I am busy busting out a few last peices for when Aurelia pulls down here photographs + I put up my paintings at the Duke of York. Currently immersed in octopus tentacles + lemonaide. I am sure I will find time to update my gallery…

Just want to put in a quiet word for Roosevelt Paneak, my good friend James’ father who has moved on to the clearing at the end of the path. He was always a positive role-model, always willing to work a little harder to make sure his family was comfortable, as well as being a incredibly creative + talented fellow. I will never forget the day he came downstairs, picked up the accoustic, + rocked out a tune I’d been struggling with all day, + I will always be grateful for the generosity he + Beth showed me when I was busy being a couch-surfing bum. Thank you Rosy! You will be missed.

<— sour [x]