Pearl Harbour
27 August 2008



The From the Archives feature was spurred by my Darling Mother who claims that she had absolutely no idea that Craig and I ever went to Pearl Harbour when we were in Hawaii. I was appalled. And then I found out that I hadn't actually ever posted the photos on this darling little website and that in fact they were all sitting in my Flickr account (along with, it seems, a great many more) as private aka PAY NO ATTENTION TO THE PHOTOS BEHIND THE CURTAIN aka oops! and that it was entirely possible that maybe, just maybe, I'd forgotten to mention it?
No. I'm sure I mentioned it.
She is sure I didn't.

Either way. I'm making up for it now!

For here we must do nothing rashly

Ue of Iacchus (Bacchus) is borne, crowned with myrtle, tumultuously
through the sacred gate, along the sacred way, halting by the sacred
fig-tree, (all sacred, mark you, from Eleusinian associations,) where
the procession rests, and then moves on to the bridge over the
Cephissus, where again it rests, and where the expression of the wildest
grief gives place to the trifling farce,--even as Demeter, in the midst
of her grief, smiled at the levity of Iambe in the palace of Celeus.
Through the "mystical entrance" we enter Eleusis. On the seventh day,
games are celebrated; and to the victor is given a measure of
barley,--as it were a gift direct from the hand of the goddess. The
eighth is sacred to Aesculapius, the Divine Physician, who heals all
diseases; and in the evening is performed the initiatory ritual. Let us
enter the mystic temple and be initiated,--though it must be supposed
that a year ago we were initiated into the Lesser Mysteries at Agrae.
("_Certamen enim,--et praeludium certaminis; et mysteria sunt quae
praecedunt mysteria_.") We must have been _mystae_ (veiled) before we
can become _epoptae_ (seers); in plain English, we must have shut our
eyes to all else before we can behold the mysteries. Crowned with
myrtle, we enter with the other _mystae_ into the vestibule of the
temple,--blind as yet, but the Hierophant within will soon open our
eyes. But first,--for here we must do nothing rashly,--first we must
wash in this holy water; for it is with pure hands and a pure heart that
we are bidden to enter the most sacred inclosure. Then, led into the
presence of the Hierophant, he reads to us, from a book of stone, things
which we must not divulge on pain of death. Let it suffice that they fit
the place and the occasion; and though you might laugh at them, if they
were spoken outside, still you seem very far from that mood now, as you
hear the words of the old man (for old he always was) and look upon the
revealed symbols. And very far indeed ar

The Classics Nerd inside me just adores that a passage about Bacchus is hiding advertisements for Viaga and Cialis.

And I also worry a little that I read all the way to the Latin and then had to scroll all the way down to see the ad before I realised that it actually was Spam and not just a delightful email.

Week Thirty-Three

Sunday
A group of friends, Craig, and I went to Yum Char then on to the Weta Cave.
The Weta Cave was severely disappointing. But I did like the anxious Gollum.


Monday
I found a place that stocks Wispa bars! It made me far too happy.


Tuesday
The last frost of the year? Fingerscrossed!
(Before I knew how to deal with an amputation)


Wednesday
I walked to the train station at dawn.
Terrified of coming across a car accident. In case I had to deal with an amputation.


Thursday
My baby sister's Wearable Arts outfit won an award at her school's fashion evening.


Friday
$1! how could I not?


Saturday
My first-cousin-twice-removed, Sister Domenica, celebrated the 60th anniversary of becoming a Sister of the Society of Mary. She received a blessing from his pope-y-ness himself!


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Excuses, excuses ...

Dear The Internet,
I have spent all of today learning about CPR, AVPU, DRSABCDE, and another acronym I cannot remember*, and spent this evening regaling my family with helpful facts about the colour & viscosity of intra-cranial fluid, how to deal with a partial amputation, & how much blood is lost as a result of total amputation**. They love me!
As a result?I forgot about this darling little site until just now. Please accept this photo of stingrays & their adorable stingray faces with my sincere apologies.
xoxo Sarah-Rose

* Cardio Pulmonary Resuscitation. Alert, responds to Voice, responds to Pain, Unresponsive. Danger, Response, Send for help, Airway, Breathing, Circulation, Disruption, Exposure/Environment.
** Straw coloured & like cooking oil. Move back into position, apply pressure & a moist dressing. Only about 2 tablespoons!

Week Thirty-Two

Sunday
I spent a good portion of Sunday washing my leather jackets. I needed them to shrink down by at least a size. It seems to have worked!


Monday
Sticker graffiti spotted on my lunch break.


Tuesday
Parliament House as seen from the staff car park.
(Craig was picking up his nouveau velo & didn't want to take it on the train)


Wednesday
I spent some quality time with Peaches Pie.
(adorable little giant kitten paw)


Thursday
I printed off some photos to use as colour references for my tattoo artist. Laser printers just can't get the truly saturated colour of a photograph.


Friday
A Moment in Time.
I was shooting my iPhone for the second half of 12:34 and one of my photos caught it exactly:
12:34:56 7/8/9


Saturday
Plan A (Coraline 3D & Mexican food out in the big wide world) fell through but Plan B (Yes Man & Malaysian Food curled up in bed) was a pretty good substitute.


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Curly hair and a big big bow. Completely adorable.

Too heavy for a Saturday morning? Perhaps.

‘Cause the thing is, you and the guys you hang out with may not really mean anything by it when you talk about crazy bitches and dumb sluts and heh-heh-I’d-hit-that and you just can’t reason with them and you can’t live with ‘em can’t shoot ‘em and she’s obviously only dressed like that because she wants to get laid and if they can’t stand the heat they should get out of the kitchen and if they can’t play by the rules they don’t belong here and if they can’t take a little teasing they should quit and heh heh they’re only good for fucking and cleaning and they’re not fit to be leaders and they’re too emotional to run a business and they just want to get their hands on our money and if they’d just stop overreacting and telling themselves they’re victims they’d realize they actually have all the power in this society and white men aren’t even allowed to do anything anymore and and and…

I get that you don’t really mean that shit. I get that you’re just talking out your ass.

But please listen, and please trust me on this one: you have probably, at some point in your life, engaged in that kind of talk with a man who really, truly hates women–to the extent of having beaten and/or raped at least one. And you probably didn’t know which one he was.

And that guy? Thought you were on his side.

- Morning Feminist Classic Kickstart: Kate Harding.

Craig has a friend who I do not like.
A friend who every so often makes his racist, misogynistic, homophobic, hateful views disturbingly clear.
I know, I know, Craig doesn't share these opinions and he just rolls his eyes and steers the conversation back to cars or pool or their primary school days. But I do still worry. I worry, I worry, I worry.

Oh Internet, you make me laugh,

but you also creep me out!

xoxo, Sarah-Rose

p.s. for the record, Craig and I are NOT brother and sister!
p.p.s. okay, yes, I have written in the past that our love feels more like incest (ew), but I also wrote it was like conjoined twins, like some metaphysical certainty, more than just a boy and a girl who fell together. so please, please, please look up the definition of simile because Internet? you're giving me a reputation!

Desert Road, New Zealand
August 2008



Normally I really dislike pylons, but I seem to love them marching across the wasteland of the central plateau like this.






Next week? Hawaii!

Sailor's Delight?

Sunday 2 August 2009

Week Thirty-One

Sunday
Craig spent most of the day watching the Matrix Trilogy* and I lay next to him, reading.


Monday
Wearing my new Sweet William Queenie brooch on my trench coat, I realise that I now have 2 different coats adorned with 2 very different representations of HRH QE2.


Tuesday
I've been spending my lunch breaks with my nose in a guidebook, highlighter or coffee in my free hand.
Surprisingly I have only drawn on myself once so far.


Wednesday
Silver, pale pink, white, pale grey, lavender, bone, a strange colour palette for me to be wearing.


Thursday
I almost forgot to take a photo.
This is Sebastian. He hangs out over our bed.


Friday
On the 7:05 train after two glasses of wine on an empty stomach.
Best idea ever.


Saturday
I spent a lot of the day ignoring the screeching of my inner book snob as I devoured Twilight**.


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* Yes. Really.
** Yes. Really. I'm embarrassed. I just wanted to actually know what I was talking about when I scorned Twilight. By the end of book one I was curious enough to read about vampire sex and vampire babies to pick up book two but by page 422 of book 2 I was kind of hooked. And by kind of I mean a lot.
The movie is still one of the worst things I have ever seen and I highly doubt I will see any of the other movies (ugh) but the book has the same kind of badly written but gripping (ridiculous) storyline that led me to read the Da Vinci Code.
Sigh.