Wedding Cake Challenge

No, it's not my wedding anniversary, the occasion is this. While the Commentbox family slept in I jogged down to the beach and tried to capture some of the excitement of the morning. There wasn't a huge crowd, mostly young families and friends cheering each other on. As you can see, it was quite hazy, and the water did seem greyish but believe me when I tell you that it was hot as an oven. It's in these hazy conditions that tourists forget to apply sunscreen, thinking that the sun isn't as strong. Big mistake. Huge.

So you see, I braved the hot dust for you, my dear blogging buddies. I just knew that you'd love to share this morning with me.

I stood near the finish line and managed, by sheer luck, to capture these two friends as they greeted each other at the finish line. The pure joy on this woman's face actually brought tears to my eyes, it was just so honest and fresh and full of life.

P.S. Saw Time Traveller's Wife and Invention of Lying yesterday. Rushing off to see A Serious Man now. More detail to come!

So random

Such a lovely evening, not lovely for any particular reason, or maybe so. The hot day has become a warm evening, feels like holiday weather. There's a feeling of winding now, Christmas parties, finalising of projects, endings rather than beginnings. Master CB's friend from across the road has arrived to sleep over, apparently his sister has a friend staying with her and they won't let him use the bathroom because they're waxing each other's legs. He walked into our house with that confident, joyful strut he has, went straight to the fridge to pour himself a glass of juice (I buy it with him in mind, it's his favourite) and then told us about his sister. I remember when he was 3 years old. I remember changing his sister's nappy (his mum and I had a little babycare co-op going for a while, just the 2 of us).

They've all gone up to the local DVD rental place up the road and they promised to bring me a Magnum, hopefully they'll have the one with almonds. I'm sitting here thinking that I might eat it in the bath, if I have the energy to run a bath. It was a long day at the library today, I think scriptwriting is like patchworking, once I write down the basic "look" I start cutting things up and moving them around. I'm not a patchworker, so it's been a long day. I've been drinking a lot of water lately, I think I've been dehydrated and that's why I've been lethargic and headachy, or maybe it's just life.

Had such a wonderful dinner with a group of Sydney bloggers on Wednesday night. I'm too lazy to link, sorry, I know I'm terrible, but I only have energy to type, not click. It was Kim, Duyvken, Mary, Fe, Fifilastupenda and Easternmax. I looked at these women and they glowed with such beauty, and I felt such a calm, warm feeling - these women whose words I read and whose art and craft I admire, live, around a table, laughing and laughing and laughing. Bloggers are my safe place to fall. Kim is at Sewjourn this weekend, I'm so excited and happy for her that I can't contain myself, yipeeeeeeeee!!!!

Tomorrow Mr. CB and I are planning a movie-going marathon, we'll try to see as many new films as we can in one day. I'm telling you, having older children is the BEST!!! They are, however, taking a very long time returning home with my ice-cream. Oh, wait, I hear footsteps outside....I do believe the ice-cream deliverers are here!!

I was going to write a post about Christmas, but I forgot. Just remembered now. Oh look!! Almond Magnum has landed, so I'll quickly finish off. Where was I? Oh yes, Christmas. Thought I'd give you a few titbits about what it's like growing up in an Orthodox Jewish school. We weren't allowed to write "Christmas," we wrote "Xmas" because Christ means "the Lord" and we don't believe Jesus is The Lord. Also we always wrote BCE and CE instead of BC and AD for the same reason. I don't remember ever feeling left out of the presents and celebrations, but then again, my parents spoilt me terribly! Really, and they continue to spoil me to this day. And the last Christmas trivia of the day: I absolutely love reading all of the Christmas posts from all over the world. Love them.

Off to run my bath, eat my ice-cream and plan movie-marathon-day xxxxx

Results

Have a look at this. Read some of the comments too, if you have time.

It fascinates me to see how passionate commenters are as they either attack or defend the Twilight phenomenon. I can't help but laugh at the commenters who are shocked that such "trash" should be so universally loved. They're missing out on so much fun!

How to halve your age in 2 hours

I've just returned from the cinema where I watched "New Moon," surrounded by many women of varying ages and a surprising number of men too. I have not read the books, so the Twilight films' plot is wonderfully exciting to me. I was completely and absolutely enchanted and I felt like I was 18 years old again for a very brief moment in time.

I adore the way Bella wears plain jeans and sweatshirts, while the men walk around shirt-less for much of the film. I loved watching Edward's loving, conflicted gaze, his sparkly skin, the shadows under his eyes, his self-control in the face of strongest temptation. How wonderful is Jacob too, with his long black hair which is then cut as he grows into the man/wolf he is meant to be. When I first saw the wolves in the forest (oh the forest, such a divine setting for it all) I giggled like a schoolgirl, loving every minute of this modernised, teenaged version of the very best fairytales ever written. Bella doesn't want to grow up into a grandma, she wants to remain fair and young forever.

I don't understand the terrible reviews which have been written about this film. It's perfect for what it is - a fantastic romance accompanied by violins and shivers of sexual excitement, an innocence hardly ever seen in cinemas any more. Oh, for goodness' sake, we have a heroine who knows who she loves, proves her strength and the power of her conviction, and still has hardly been kissed. Surely there's something gorgeous about that concept?

Of course it's silly, but the best things in life are often silly aren't they? I mean, really, are the stories of Sleeping Beauty or Cinderella or Little Red Riding Hood not silly? They're absolutely ridiculous in the most wonderful, enjoyable, entertaining and subversive way.

Long live Edward and Bella, for if they can't, then what hope do we mere mortals have?

More results

"New Moon" broke the all-time record for opening day in the US with something like $73M. It took 12.5M in Australia in only 3 days. Amazing.

You cannot argue with results like this. You can criticise the story, the adaptation, the directing, the acting, the message, but the truth lies in the results.

Results

Have any of you seen "New Moon" yet? It opened here at midnight last night, and I think it made about 4.4 million (Aussie) dollars in its opening day here. I haven't seen it yet, but I definitely will, and in the meantime I'm tracking the international figures here. The story of Bella and Edward is a money tree which just keeps growing and blossoming, a phenomenon which I find both invigorating and perplexing. The critics have, on the whole, absolutely hated the film, but the film's target audience is clearly ignoring the reviews and voting with bums on seats.

I cannot abide the many snide, snobbish reviews which have popped up around this film. These reviews seem to have grown overnight like noxious weeds, obliterating the obvious beauty of this rose of a story. Life is hard enough as it is without having to defend the power a story can have on its audience. I wish the film experts would at least admit, if only briefly, that the Twilight series has captured the heart and imagination of a global audience, and that this is good.

Several months ago I purchased the first book of poems published by young emerging poet Emma Jones. I wasn't in the right frame of mind for reading poetry at that time, but I was intrigued by her story and so I kept the thin volume on my night-table. Last night I couldn't fall asleep, so I picked up the book of poems and started to flip through it, looking for a flash of comfort, or inspiration, or joy. The poems spoke to me in a different way last night, and it felt like many of them had changed completely since I had last attempted to read them. Half the battle with reading poetry is, I think, to wait faithfully and patiently for the proper frame of mind to visit you, even if that might be at one o'clock in the morning.

Isn't it exciting to discover a new young poet who, a mere 8 years after graduation from the University of Sydney, has already made a name for herself? Well, apparently it isn't very exciting because the critics are busy dissecting her words until all that's left is a pile of polished, sterile bones. Emma Jones' target audience could very well be young women, those same young women who rush to see the Twilight films, but it seems she's been hijacked by a group of academics who are far too busy asking each other about Emma Jones' "voice" than Emma Jones' ability to connect with her readers. How much more wonderful is this one review which I found here. This reviewer actually wrote "Thank you Emma Jones." That's exactly what poetry, film, art should be about really. It's all very well to study all of these art forms in universities, but at the end of the day, or in the very middle of the darkest night, it's just you and the artist and a collection of imaginative images which might be useful in the most wonderful, meaningful and non-academic way possible. Or they might not.

Patience.

Here is a sample of Emma Jones - which I type from page 9 of her book "The Striped World":


Goldfish

The sea's not wide but it is full.
I have my castle and my load of gold.
See how the chest flips up to show
its plastic pennies and its bouldered hearts
with each great current, while in droves
we follow close the circular turret -

The sea's not wide but it is full.








Thank you Emma Jones.

The party's over now

Hands up who woke up with a hangover this morning....hmmm...thought so....best party EVER!! Thanks Eurolush, and here's to next year!





Because it ain't over until the Eurovision lady sings.