Once someone drew me with a squirrel on my head.

http://damienweighill.com/

365 in 2011

Sunday
I was wrangled into helping the BCTT rehearse.


Monday
Tattoo t-shirt sale!


Tuesday
Pretty sure this was a no-good, very-bad day.


Wednesday
Meatloaf AND Def Leppard are coming to Wellington. This seems ... not very 2011.


Thursday
I spent an hour in the afternoon listing stuff on TradeMe.


Friday
Drunken, angry pizza.


Saturday
I am now a BIG fan of the falafel at Brooklyn Cafe.


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The End of Another August

August

2006


2007

apparently I only took ONE photo in August 2007

2008

hawaii

2009

I miss noodles a lot at the moment

2010


2011



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2006

I was a baby. This was my first day as a married woman.

2011

I always feel more myself with my hair darker.

365 in 2011

Sunday
My baby sister turned twenty years old. The family gathered for laser strike followed by family movies and mojitos and trivial pursuits.


Monday
Grapes are back in season! A box of seedless grapes lasts almost a week of lunches.


Tuesday
My Insta-Hawaii book arrived from blurb.com.


Wednesday
I went to the World of Wearable Arts and was not wow-ed. In this, I am the minority.


Thursday
I'm working on building up my New Zealand designer wardrobe. Slowly, but surely.


Friday
Purple pattern at the office.


Saturday
I am a terrible basil-mama. I can not seem to keep it alive.
On Saturday I tried moving outside for a bit.


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Town Mouse

Dear Internet,
Please forgive me, for I am about to rant.

Last night I went to the World of Wearable Arts dress rehearsal.



It was horrible. I do not know why I thought I would like it - I do not like interpretive dance, I don't find the wearable art particularly moving*, and I never watch the televised version because it bores me. But I went. It was horrible.

I suppose, the one good thing that came out of last night is that now, when I am told - in a smarmy tone, ALWAYS the smarmy tone - that I really MUST go because it's just TOO TOO fabulous and how it's SUCH A SHAME that I live in Wellington and DON'T GO to WoW I can tell them that I did go. And it was horrible.

Besides the general boredom, the insufferable child & animal performers, the men-dressed-as-women-equals-hilarious shtick, and the women in the audience hooting everytime a man wore tights, there was one straw which broke the proverbial camel's back.

Fred fucking Dagg.



I am sick and tired of being made to feel like I am not a "real" New Zealander because I do not like the countryside.

Because I do not own or like mud-caked gumboots and a wife beater. Because, more often than not, I find pavlova cloying and overly sweet. Because I do not like paua shell. Because I do not know Ten Guitars.

Because my idea of a future life for my family does not involve a paddock. The quarter acre dream is not mine. I do not secretly want to retire to the country and do hard yakka. I enjoy that I am not entirely sure to what the "number eight" in "number eight wire" refers, though I presume it is the gauge. I do not want a bach with a corrugated iron shed and worn sheets on the splinter-y bedframes.

I like the city. I prefer the city.

I like the background hum of traffic, I like the smell of rain on a hot pavement, I like that there are cafés and bars and restaurants and stores all within walking distance, I like people-watching. I like wearing inappropriate shoes and never wearing trackpants. I loathe enclosed shopping malls and homogenised suburbs. Give me urban, give me grime, give me culture.

I admit, I can admire verdure, and clean air, and stars. I like that the countryside is there, over the hills, a drive and a bit away. That's fine. It's nice that it's there if I feel like a change.

But I am a town mouse. I always will be. I am sick of being told I am not a real New Zealander because of it.

sincerely, Sarah-Rose


* and I LIKE modern art. I just like pieces which make me feel something other than "huh" or "meh".

365 in 2011

Sunday
Making Paleo crackers. The first time they were burnt. This time? too biscuit-y.


Monday
SO MUCH SNOW at Bowen House. Yes, this was newsworthy.


Tuesday
Then yes, there was more snow at Park Place. So much snow.


Wednesday
Glorious graffiti near the bar where we listened to CHRISROBTIM's Cyndi Lauper cover album.


Thursday
Wandering back to work in a post-dentist funk. The streets wanted me to cheer up.


Friday
The sun was setting and I headed, with trepidation, out to my horrible former co-star's Murder Mystery evening.


Saturday
I've had a pair of pale grey high waisted jeans for a year. I never wore them.
So I dyed them dark blue. It's better.


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Tattooed in a Snowstorm

I don't think I'll forget today in a hurry. No, seriously.
Mainly because of my tattoo but partly, partly because of the snowstorm.



Seriously. It snowed in Wellington. More than I can ever remember.



But yes. Also the tattoo. I'm in love with it.
Síorghrá is Gaelic for eternal love.



Gill does amazing work.



I can't wait until it's healed. He used turquoise for the keyhole and the script but it doesn't really show up here.
It's beautiful though.



It was kind of chilly spending most of the afternoon in a sleeveless top.
In a snowstorm.

365 in 2011

Sunday
On the way home from a lines run for Oleanna.


Monday
Texture in the Parliament car park.
We only have one car key. If Craig is late I have to entertain myself somehow.


Tuesday
Darling husband driving nonchalantly, throwing horns and wearing his grandfather's gold watch.


Wednesday
An exceptionally violent dawn.


Thursday
Craig sent me running to the newspaper - I thought it was something work related.
I was almost relieved to find out it was a terrible photo of me.


Friday
Home when I should have been at the Gryphon. Drunk when I should have been performing.


Saturday
The garden is rising up. It will reclaim Park Place.


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