Della's Decorating

For a while, you may or may not recall that  I was regularly featuring photos of new decorating touches that I'd made to my apartment. I'd pretend that I was the chatelaine of a fabulously interesting Manhattan pied a terre who had graciously consented to allow her public a tiny peek into Her Private World.

Clearly, I was modelling myself on that Great Style Maven, Diana Vreeland who loved nothing more than to show off her New York Garden in Hell Living Room. 

You also may or may not recall that I would call these entries, 'Decorating & the Dumped Woman'. I thought that it was a great label.

But since I've now completely eschewed the title 'Dumped', I couldn't call it that anymore. 

I felt sad. I didn't want to post any more decorating pictures  if I couldn't call it that.

But over the past few days, I've grown up considerably. I've decided to let my feelings go & Move On.

So, here's some new pictures.

Here's my bed. It's wearing a gorgeous satin quilt that I bought for ten bucks at 'Bednobs & Broomsticks' thrift shop because it has a small, but slightly nasty cigarette hole in it. Luckily, I am fond of imperfections.

I'm showing off some of my necklaces. This morning, I had tipped them all out of their garages & on to the bed in a frenzy. I just didn't know which ones to wear & I was dangerously late for school.

 I ended up not wearing any of them.

This little Still Life, featuring Real Antlers given to me by my step-son, Tyler, an old china ornament & a whole mess of coral that I collected on a holiday to Magnetic Island, is a Homage to Charles Darwin, who has some important anniversary this year. I can't remember if we're celebrating his birth or death or the time he sailed on 'The Beagle'.

 I've placed a whole lot of free postcards which are a reproduction of the original first page of 'The Origin of the Species' at the back. 

I'm sure Charles would be thrilled to know he was being celebrated in this way.

Now we're back to The Bed.

Note the little tin Sacred Hearts from Mexico that I buy every time when I visit LA.

I hope they're not unlucky or anything.

And I just love my red Bed Armrest. I'm not sure what it's called. I again found it at 'Bednobs & Broomsticks' thrift shop which has to be My Lucky Store.

I've saved the best till last.

Here's my new Kitchen Tableau. I've had the statue of The Blessed Virgin for a couple of decades. Sadly, her hands are gone now. They were beautiful, detachable creatures which were broken possibly by a close family member when she was quite little. I've since forgiven her. 

If you look closely, you may notice a chocolate foil rabbit-like creature. It's The Easter Bilby, an Australian version of a rabbit. I found it in 'Big W' over the weekend & decided to celebrate Easter now even though we've just started Lent.

I've Never Cared for Leonard Cohen Until

Joan of Arc by Leonard Cohen

Now the flames they followed joan of arc

As she came riding through the dark;

No moon to keep her armour bright,

No man to get her through this very smoky night.

She said, I’m tired of the war,

I want the kind of work I had before,

A wedding dress or something white

To wear upon my swollen appetite.

Well, I’m glad to hear you talk this way,

You know I’ve watched you riding every day

And something in me yearns to win

Such a cold and lonesome heroine.

And who are you? she sternly spoke

To the one beneath the smoke

.Why, I’m fire, he replied,

And I love your solitude, I love your pride.

Then fire, make your body cold,

I’m going to give you mine to hold,

Saying this she climbed inside

To be his one, to be his only bride.

And deep into his fiery heart

He took the dust of joan of arc,

And high above the wedding guests

He hung the ashes of her wedding dress.

It was deep into his fiery heart

He took the dust of joan of arc,

And then she clearly understood

If he was fire, oh then she must be wood

.I saw her wince, I saw her cry,

I saw the glory in her eye.

Myself I long for love and light,

But must it come so cruel, and oh so bright?

I must admit that I've never cared for Leonard Cohen.

I always felt that his songs went on & on & on, rather like my own blog posts.

The main reason why I've never cared for Leonard is because I never bother listening to the words of a song.

I just like listening to the music.

Except of course when it comes to Barry Manilow.

Who on God's earth can ignore Barry's heartfelt entreaties -

'Baby...take Me/ High upon a hill top/ Up where the stallions meet the sky'.

I swear I did not make this up.

But Leonard & his songs are in a whole other universe that I don't inhabit.

If Leonard & I were Venn Diagrams, there would be no point of intersection.

Until now.

After reading my blog post about Joan of Arc, My Best Friend (MBF from now on), Marge told me to listen to Leonard's song about Joan.

I did as I was told.

Even though the song was about Joan being burnt to a crisp, which I specifically said that I was airbrushing out, I loved it.

I hope you do too.

Oh, I'm posting this entry under Top 10000 Victim Tunes. But I'm not sure if that's an accurate label. After all, from my reading, Joan does enter into a dialogue with Fire asking him to be cold.

And although she did cry, there was glory in her eye

What I Would Wear to the Oscars

In an effort to keep abreast of the times , I've been selflessly trawling through yesterday's Oscar Red Carpet pictures as well as watching the 'E' Channel. 

Pretty Heavy Duty, eh?

I'm sure this isn't news to you, but the 'E' channel is Totally Excremental, although while watching I did catch a tiny sound byte from Heidi Klum that almost, but not quite, made the whole experience worthwhile.  

The Poor Thing was forced to wear a Couture Gown that had a giant steel-plated bow growing out of one side of it which made her long limo drive into the Kodak Theatre absolute torture because she had to 'only sit on one Butt Cheek'.

Rarely have I ever heard the term 'Butt Cheek' used by anyone outside of an Aerobics Instructor at a gym.

I'm sure many of the other Couture Wearers also suffered for their Couture. If they didn't, it looked like they did. Not that I'm Envious or Jealous or Resentful or Toady . I couldn't think of anything worse than trudging down the street with a giant fishtail trailing behind me, catching all the cigarette butts in its path. Isn't that what Anne Hathaway was wearing? 

My favourite look was The Toilet Roll Holder Gown, which owes a great Style Debt to Little Bo Peep. I think the two best in that catagory were Miley Cyrus & Sarah Jessica Parker, although I'm sure there were many other inspirational examples.

And now to Meryl Streep, a catagory all on her own. I have always found wearing Lite Elephant a challenge. And I pride myself on having dear Meryl's colouring. So, Bravo Meryl for daring to wear it. Of course commentators roundly praised her for sensibly wearing sleeves to cover up her, what my last year's Senior Class used to call, 'Oobadoobas'.

 BTW, I am becoming increasingly fascinated by mine. Even though I spend some hours every week in 'Downward Facing Dog' before moving to 'Plank' Pose, the skin around my burgeoning muscles is becoming more & more crepe-like or even frilly. Aging can be fun.

Sophia Loren, pictured air-kissing Meryl, looked like a long-sleeved Coffee Scroll. I wonder if Coffee Scroll translates into other Western Cultures like American? In case it doesn't, its a cake that looks like coffee if it was a cake.

And finally we get to Ethel Merman, a woman who has haunted me for my entire life. I thought this sleeveless gown that she wore in some film would look good on me if I ever went to The Oscars, even though it wouldn't cover up my 'Oobadoobas'.

I Almost PREFER Fake

I spent the weekend in Canberra staying with my daughter & her partner Russell. We had an Ironclad Excuse to Shop because her 21st birthday is rapidly approaching & I wanted to reward both of us.

I need to be rewarded for having her in the first place & then not dropping her or drowning her in the bath & then making sure she got through school & into University without being too much of a slave to current fashion trends. 

I vividly remember going into the early stages of labour. As I sat in a warm bath, I went into a Complete State of Panic when I suddenly realised that it was far too late to change my mind. I had to go through with this. 

No wonder  it took twenty eight hours for her to be born. With thoughts like these swirling around the placenta, I wouldn't be in a big hurry to arrive either. 

Oh God! I've got to finally meet this Mad MotherWoman.  She doesn't even know how to make a nappy. I'd much rather hide in here. How will I cope?

Well, I'm glad to say that not only did Billie-Mae cope, she Flourished. With Bells & Trumpets.

Back to Shopping.

Hopefully, most of the weekend shopping was About Her. But as I type, I'm now gripped with fear, or is it guilt? Did she get most of the stuff or did I? I think she did: vintage handbag, v. cheap thrifted dress, sweater, Chocolate Easter Bilby (an Australian alternative to Bunny) Neil Gaiman's latest book, a glomesh snake necklace. Oh, & a v. moderately priced Olympus camera.

 I bought the items  below. I was soooo thrilled. 

Let me briefly walk you through them. 

For months I've been slobbering over faux Chanel two-toned quilted ballet flats that sat in the window of 'Booty', my local expensive shoe store. In fact, I photographed them early one morning before the snooty owners of the shop arrived. You may, or may not recall seeing them on this blog. I wasn't going to pay hundreds of dollars for them.

But then....Joy O Joy, Good Ol'Target decided to do a Faux Faux Chanel Ballet Flat. In my Opinion, the only decent things in Target are the shoes. That is, if you don't mind wearing Pure Plastic Shoes. Or Fake Leather which I'm sure is a NO NO to many of you. 

But I Almost Prefer Fake. 

And I was 100% Happy (as the tag says) to find the Faux Faux Flats on Sale at Canberra Civic Target! So I just had to have two - the classic black & creme & black & Wild Animal Print. 

And then I found 'Wonder Woman' earrings at 'Diva', another Mall favourite. Lately, WW has become a slight Talisman for me, along with Joan of Arc & Ethel Merman.

It's now 9.30pm. The Oscars are finally on. I must rush off & watch Hugh Jackman's Opening Number. I'm Nothing if Not Patriotic.

Joan of Arc Has Just Galloped In

Lately, I've been attracted to images of Joan of Arc. Well, not exactly her, but  images from Wildly Inaccurate Hollywood films made about her.

 My favourite Joan of Arc is Ingrid Bergmann. If you didn't know that she was about to be burnt to a crisp, you'd think that she looks Completely Invincible in that Steel Power Suit  with Massive Flag & hair blowing madly in the wind.

Warrior Joan.

So, for my purposes, I'm airbrushing out the Flames & the Stake & I'm just thinking of her as Brave & Powerful. Because that's just what I want to be.

But lately I've been feeling like the Wilting Fleur de lis image of Joan in the Silent film version of her life.

Victim Joan. 

Poor old me, trudging along the supermarket aisles at midnight, bemoaning the fact that everything seems to be sold in Big Value Family Packs. What happened to the Single Unit Household? Weren't we the New Growth Industry?

Poor old me,  sadly smiling at acquaintances on the street & just knowing that they are saying quietly to each other, 'Do you know he dumped her? She must be unbearable to live with!'

Wait a minute......did I hear the word 'Dumped'?  

No, no, NO. Absolutely No More Dumped. (Pardon Me, it's just Sylvia, my Inner Tormentor taking over the reigns for a moment.)

And here she is below. The great thing about Sylvia Fowlmouth is that she really knows how to dress. Look at that hat perched so pertly on her head! And those glaring eyes looking all the world like Really Knowing Fried Eggs hanging off her chest! And her long tapered nails, just this morning painted 'Jungle Red'.

And here I am, wanly smiling up at Sylvia. Sadly, she has a distinct Height Advantage over me. I haven't got a chance.

Until Now. Warrior Joan has just galloped in on her white horse, flag waving, eyes shining. 

'Climb aboard', she commands. 

'But I can't get up. The horse is too high.'

'Nonsense', says Joan, 'You can do it'.

Rethink Your Attitude Towards Quiche.

Today I taught one of my favourite poems, 'Funeral Blues' by WH Auden, which fabulously featured in the film, 'Four Weddings & a Funeral'.

Honestly, from the way I just wrote this you'd think that I was one of those Incredibly Conchy English Teachers who can recite 'The Wreck of the Hesperus' word for word or knows the Whole Canon like the Inside of Her Soul.

Nothing can be further from the truth. I can basically recite nothing. 

Except perhaps a short extract from 'Black Beauty' -  'Ah', she said, 'I have seen dead horses, I am sure that they do not suffer pain. I wish I may drop down dead at my work rather than be sent off to the Knackers'.

And another short extract, this time from 'The Importance of Being Earnest' - 'Pray, let me introduce myself to you. My name is Cecily Cardew.'

'Cecily Cardew? What a v. sweet name. Something tells me that we are going to be great friends. I already like you more than I can say. Please sit down'.

That's about it. Nothing more, really. Except perhaps like four words in a row from plays by Shakespeare that I've taught a million times. 

'Tomorrow & tomorrow & tomorrow.........' Blank.

Lines of poetry slip out of my memory like Sands Through the Hourglass. Umm....sounds like half a line from 'Days of Our Dreary Lives'.

Anyway, that's not what I wanted to say at all. I'm sure no one cares if I can remember lines of poetry or not. But you might like my Big Green Cache of Necklaces at my neck. I bought all three of them for two bucks each at 'Forever 21' last year when I was visiting Los Angeles.

And that's also not what I wanted to say either. 

I really just wanted to tell you that my daughter posted a v. entertaining & quite detailed quiche recipe on her blog, Unreal City. 

I have a slight stake in this blog entry because the recipe is one that I've used thousands of times over the past more than two decades. 

 You may think that quiche is Naff. Or Twee. Or both. Or maybe you think that Quiche is Over. Think Again. I promise you , after merely reading the recipe(s),  you'll be rushing off to the kitchen to make a whole mess of them.

I myself must now rush off to listen to my new audio recording of  'Eat Pray Love' by Elizabeth Gilbert. I only discovered it yesterday & am now Absolutely Obsessed. Has anyone else read it?

Whoever Heard of a Fake Kid?

When I was a child & my mother felt my Behaviour in Public was getting a little tiresome, she would say to me loudly in front of Whoever, 'Oh for God's sake, Stop Showing Off!'

It was absolutely the worst thing she could have said about me at the time. I always felt completely explosed & a fraud & a needy idiot.

How's that? A Fraudulent Six Year Old. An Inauthentic Pre-Schooler. A Fake Kid.

 But looking back from the Vantage Point of Age, I can think of many many worse things she could have said. 

'Did you know that my daughter picks her nose & eats it?' is one worse thing.

Fortunately, My Mother never went that far.

My how things change! Nowadays, I'm Loud & Proud About my Showoffiness. Look at the cheesy photo taken today at my desk. I'm showing off my completely Thrifted outfit as well as a desk that has had the entire contents of my bulging pencil case DUMPED on it. Note that I used the word 'dumped' in reference to an inanimate object NOT in reference to myself. 

Maybe I'm Movin' On.

Oh, talking of Mothers & Daughters, my Maisy has written another wonderful food blog post called 'Cheese,' where she discovers the difference between a fake & a real smile in the process of posing next to her Foolproof Quiche. It's a Real Corker! You'd be made to miss it.