Wow, what a weekend! It seems only fitting to have had a really enjoyable weekend, after finishing up my job at The Big Christian Charity last week and starting who knows what. Like an intermission filled with light and laughter between Acts. On paper, or pixels rather, it might sound like an ordinary weekend but it was really enjoyable. Largely because I wasn't sleepwalking my way through it like I have been. I was feeling rested, energised and engaged in it.
What a difference sleep makes.
It was a pretty cold weekend, hence the chills of the title. Mercifully it was dry though, and instead we were treated to some of that bright, clear winter weather than Sydney can turn on. That accounts for the chills, but the first thrill of the weekend came in the form of Haircut Day on Saturday morning. Haircut Day how I love thee, let me count the ways.
After Haircut Day (::swoon::) I caught up with the group I knit with every fortnight at cafe Barmuda for a fun afternoon. I kicked the proceedings off with the hot chocolate to end all hot chocolates. (I normally avoid milk based drinks like hot chocolates because being lactose intolerant I have to substitute soy milk, and my friends one of my truths, a thing only disproved this one time so far is that hot soy milk is kind of gross.) Warming and just sweet enough to be dessert-y, with great globs of real dark chocolate in the bottom of the glass.
OMG, pardon me while I uncurl my toes.
James O'Brien rang me during the afternoon to ask me if I wanted to go to the closing night film of the Sydney Film Festival. (James's job in the media means that he is frequently the distributor of complimetary largesse. We don't complain.) So we met up at the grand 1929 High Mock-Medieval environs of the State Theatre. So grand, see:
Actually, scooch over further to your right and that's roughly the view we had for the evening. There's something about sitting in The Dress Circle that makes me me regret the decision not to wear one.
Anyhoo. The closing night film was a fabulous animated feature called Persepolis. Named after the 6th century ceremonial seat of the Persian empire I suspect, and somewhat ironically, as the film details the terrible journey that Iranian people were subjected to under a couple of despotic empire builders.
So, not your average cartoon. It was adapted from the autobiographical graphic novels of Marjane Satrapi, by Satrapi herself, and tells her journey warts and all. It's not always a comfortable ride, but Satrapi works in a number of laugh out loud moments that break the tension when needed, and they are needed because the story is frequently quite harrowing. I highly recommend it, and a biggie thanks to James for the opportunity to see it.
Just one small note to the Film Festival, better gift bags. Leaflets, a pack of mints, and a pen per every 2 people is not really cutting it. Oh, and as delicious as the Fruits Of The Forest mints were, how can a 'mint' with no mint in it still be called a mint? Please check and get back to me.
OMG, that only covers Saturday. See what happens when I get my energy back?! Verbosity, that's what happens.
So, Sunday (and I might shorthand this a bit) was likewise cold and clear, two things I celebrated with a sleep in. A sleep in! 8am is a time I normally see having been up for an hour or two, not bleary eyed and half awake. I futzed (knitted, watched the DVD of De Lovely for the mumble mumbleth time, put on a load of laundry) before heading to the pub in the early afternoon for some knitting with my Courthouse Hotel pub knitting peeps.
Laughs, japes and untold rows of knitting later, I headed home to cook some dinner, watch Sunday night tv, have my usual small cry at the people getting their homes made over on Domestic Blitz (shut-up) and rounded off the night by admiring Diane Lane's good taste in men during the late night movie pre-sen-tation Under The Tuscan Sun. Seriously, a somewhat sappy film but Sandra Oh as her best (dyke) friend plus the hot Italian somewhat-of-a-bastard Marcello, the cute Bel-Ami (Google it and be prepared for NSFW) style Polish twink builder Pawel, and then the really cute American writer boy make for one hell of a Gay Appeal movie.
So, there you have it. My weekend, in a nutshell.