Yesterday we discovered this huge, hard lump at the base of Tom’s ribcage. While I have a job now, it’s only casual, and for the past month and next month I’ve only had one day of work per week. We have no money to take him to the vet and I’m terrified.
I recently began the habit of catching a ride half way to the city with Paul. He starts work at 8am, so I’ve been getting to the studio around 8:15 every morning. Every day for the past week or two we’ve seen the hot air balloons out and about over the city as we drive.
Occasionally in Preston, we’d be woken by insistent, angry barking from Henry, and we’d discover that he was attempting to protect the property from the big evil balloons. There’d be no consoling him, and it was hilarious — this little, floppy eared, skewiff toothed dog with extra long legs, letting loose his indignation at floating balls in the sky.
A few days ago I started a couple of tumblr blogs for Stella and Tom. Stellr and Tomblr respectively. I’ve queued up a bunch of photos and one is published each day. I’m sure Henry, the little attention seeker that he was, would be suitably jealous. I still miss him, but now I can look at the balloons and smile.
As you can see, Stella found a plum.
And then she etted it.
And then she went back and found another plum.
And etted that one too!
A year and two days ago, my heart was broken. Henry was an exceptional dog and we miss him ridiculously. None of this was made easier by the fact that I had to bury Henry not once, not twice, but three times.
Yes, a certain long-legged puppy discovered Henry’s grave and thought that excavating the contents was a wonderful game! And that’s how I ended up with these, his crazy teeth. And while burying a beloved dog repeatedly is never fun, I’m glad I have them.
Lots of spam falls into my blog filter. Usually it’s uninspired and repetitive, but this one is gold.
WOW! Good thing you kept your wits enough to fight off the bugger. Glad you’re ok. The worse thing to happen to me on that street was when I encountered a pack of dogs late one night. I kept a safe distance behind them until I got home. Take care.
There was a period in my life about eight weeks ago where things just didn’t seem to stop. I’d started my new job, had an art show opening and was trying to sort out starting my MFA. Constant movement.
I was also about to turn 30 and desperately needed to clean my house in preparation for the party. Of course, in my brain, that translated to clean and polish all bookshelves and catalogue all books using Delicious Library.
I did manage to squeeze in some knitting time. I don’t remember what I was knitting though. I do know it wasn’t the gloves that I promised Mr C’s mum last June…
I also snuck in a Puppy of the Week. I’ve been slack with my Puppy of the Week photos. I need to get back on that, because it’s wonderful flipping through all the photos and seeing the changes that don’t get noticed day-to-day.
In the meantime, I was busy finding out what I’d need to do for uni in terms of contact hours. It wasn’t much, as Masters is basically a Choose Your Own Adventure type of course, but I needed to go into printmaking weekly for group tutorials. Despite a discussion on the phone about part-time study being viable when I accepted my job, thanks to the wonders of flex time, I was nervous about telling my employer that I had been offered a part-time fully Commonwealth supported place in the MFA. And it turns out I was right to be nervous, as the HR department flat out refused to give me the hour and a half off each Tuesday afternoon (that I would have made up during the week with my “flex” time) that I needed to go to class. All because I’m a new employee. I was pretty upset about this, mostly because if I’d been told that on the phone, I would never have gone through the hassle of enrolling myself at uni and would have instead accepted the offer for the MFA but deferred immediately. Instead, I’d been stressing out for weeks trying to organise things, and now that I’d started the enrollment process, putting the degree off for a year was more complicated and difficult for everyone involved. Despite being very happy to have this job, being told one thing then having that flat out contradicted left a bitter aftertaste — on the day before my birthday, of all days.
After a week of the wideangle lens and full body shots, I ran like a crazed schoolgirl back to my beloved macro for my 365 series. My eyes weren’t dealing well at the time with the heat, so I decided to make them my focus for the week.
After taking the above shot outside and without flash, I decided to see what I could do with it. The following picture was a bit of an experimental accident and is one of my favourites. It feels like my skin and eyelashes are part of a landscape.
I then started using the macro less and struggling more with my pictures. The next one is altered all to hell, and I like to picture it less as a photo of my eyes, and more as a representation of a moth.
And then another night of taking the pictures late and struggling with low light graininess as a result.
The next day, while waiting on news about a job interview I’d been for during the previous week, I got a call from RMIT saying that it would be a very, very good idea for me to put in an application for the Master of Fine Art program. As soon as possible. After three months waiting for news on my Honours application, this was very, very exciting. And terrifying, as the job interview I’d been for was for a full-time position. I received a call from one of my referees a few hours later, who said that she’d been contacted and was fairly certain I’d get the job.
The next day was my 10 year anniversary with Mr Crumpet. It was all going well until I found that the dogs had partially dug up Henry (…again…) and were fighting over who got to chew his jaw bones. Rather upsetting, to put it lightly. Still, I managed to get my shit together, take my application in and then go and see The Wrestler with the Mister. And this is how I felt when I got home.
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