Naomi Bulger: messages in bottles

Today I got stuck in our hallway for a rather scary and gloomy 25 minutes.

The doorknob to the door that separates the kitchen from the hall had fallen off and been neatly placed on the kitchen bench (on the OTHER side of the door) when I accidentally shut the door behind me, locking myself away from my phone, my computer and even my house keys (so I couldn't leave to go looking for help or to find a public phone). Channelling my inner MacGyver, I managed to dismantle the rest of the doorknob recess and get the darned thing open without having to smash the glass on the top half of the door (which at one point was an option I seriously considered). I then figured out how to put everything back together, including fixing the original problem. I am feeling somewhat smug this morning. Can you tell?

Meanwhile, here's what I've been loving on the interwebs lately:

* This post on overdoing social media
* Free iPhone wallpapers
* Customised serving trays
* The adorable Sophia Grace and Rosie, with Ellen and meeting Nicki Minaj
* This lovely digital download
* These dapper dog and classy cat habitats
* Beautiful photography for the prevention of violence against women

_In which I woke up at 4am because my body knew I had to get up at 5am.

In which I flew from Melbourne to Sydney and, when I arrived, the sun was high just like I remember it always being in Sydney and I thought all those Wettest Season Ever claims must have been imagined.

In which I had toast and tea with my parents in a cafe in my old neighbourhood of Surry Hills, and it was oh so familiar but also not.

In which I realised that yet another place no longer felt like home, but that I was ok with that.

In which my dad and I roamed around The Rocks taking photographs, and my mother exercised the patience of a saint.

In which on seeing the photograph of myself at the top of this post, I realised I really should invest in some actual maternity clothes.

In which I devoured a Thai lemongrass and basil stir-fry for lunch, and the chilli gave Baby B the hiccups.

In which my parents, just returned from China, brought back a bounty of cute outfits for Baby B, and a hand-engraved ink stamp with Mr B's and my name and the symbol for 'love' to celebrate our first anniversary.

In which my friend Sarah and I met up in Chinatown for noodles and dumplings and green tea icecream.

In which the owner of the noodles and dumpling place came outside and played his violin for the crowd while we waited for a table.

In which Sarah and I had one of those brilliant creative brainstorms during which everything fit into place.

In which I watched incredibly bad reality TV in bed in my hotel room, and it was an unspeakable luxury.

In which I caught a taxi out to Rozelle in the morning, and the driver was actually friendly and knew the way.

In which I sipped chai tea and fresh juice with my friend Cara, and we shared our lives on fast-forward.

In which the 3 Weeds was closed when we arrived, and I had to submit to the indignity of being a pregnant woman loitering on a pub stoop.

In which at 12:05pm the pub opened, and we headed toward the back where Cara and Sarah had booked a private room just for me and my friends.

In which I proceeded to sit like a fat, round queen bee for the next five hours while my friends dropped in as the afternoon suited them, to say hi.

In which my mum made a black forest cake for Baby B and it was sublime (and very cute).

In which I was thankful, not for the first time or even the 100th time, for the wonderful friendships I have, and that love trumps distance.

In which, while waiting for my plane, I realised I'd miss dinnertime and that was not a good thing while pregnant, so I ordered airport McDonalds.

In which regret became not a strong enough word.

In which all the staff at Virgin Airlines were super sweet about my baby bump, and even the security-check staff got all excited for me and Baby B.

In which Mr B was waiting for me at the gate, the dog and cat spilled out of the front door in a frenzy of love when I arrived home, and the house wasn't QUITE as bachelor-messy as I had feared.

How was your weekend?

I am off to Sydney today! It's just a very quick visit to say hello to my dear friends and family before the baby arrives, before I am too pregnant to fly. I simply can't wait to see everyone. It has been way too long.

My friends have organised a little celebratory "baby is on the way" party for me for Saturday, although I've made them promise no games or presents, just the good company of people I love. How do you like your parties to go?

How about adorable little "parties in a box" like those pictured here (Valentine's Day party, St Patrick's Day party; and Easter party)? These and other fab ideas and beautiful photography are all on You Are My Fave.

For ages now I've been planning to host a Harry Potter party for Emily. When I finally get around to it, she and her friends will sit down (ok lie down) for a marathon viewing of every one of the movies, and I am going to cook up a storm. At regular breaks in the movies we'll stop to eat...

There'll be acid pops, chocolates and more on the Hogwarts Express; pie, drumsticks, roast vegetables and more for the Hogwarts Great Hall feast; spiced hot chocolate and crumpets in the Griffindoor Common Room; cauldron cakes and butterbeer on a Hogsmeade visit; and I've even found recipes for Skiving Snackboxes, which I think I'll give to Em's friends as take-away gifts at the end. Somewhere during the marathon I'll also need to slip in these amazing Golden Snitch cake pops, because they are just gorgeous.

There's even more food planned (eek!) but it's too much to put on here. If you're looking for Harry Potter recipes, let me know in the comments and I can email you what I've gathered so far, with links to the recipes.

Wouldn't you like to give a box like this to your friends at your next party? I sure would! (So you should come to my next party). Amy from Eat Drink Chic designed these, and her instructions and design are FREE.

I found these fabulous DIY tips and ideas on In Honor of Design last week.

One day when I throw a party just because, I will hold it in a beautiful forest. When you arrive at the edge of the forest, magical night-lights will guide you to the party, looking a little something like this photograph by Rune Guneriussen. At the end of the path, all of our friends will be waiting. We will warm our hands at a crackling bonfire. Festive music will play. Wine will flow. We will sing and dance until dawn.

A year and a week ago, this little novel about writing letters and owning your stories and recognising a touch of magic came out.

_I wasn't prepared, there was no great fanfare. I was too busy getting married and changing jobs and moving interstate. But I am still proud of my strange little story. It is quirky and multi-layered, and I still feel a deep affection for the curmudgeonly old man, the neurotic young woman, the pink tracksuit villain and the ugly philosopher who populate its pages.

One of the nicest and least expected outcomes of this book being published has been the international community of letter-writing friends that has opened up for me. Early on in the process, I promised to write a personal letter of thanks to anyone who bought a copy of Airmail (I still do).

People would email me their addresses and I'd send them off little thank-you notes and letters. Some of them would write back, offering me snippets into their worlds from far away. Over time, the word spread and people began to know me as someone who sends old-fashioned mail. People asked me to be their pen pals. I can't tell you how precious this is.

So, to everyone who has bought a copy of Airmail, written me a letter, read this blog, or supported my writing in so many other ways, thank you. Truly!

I always thought that having your fiction published would be the ultimate, but it wasn't. It's the way we reach each other, through a mutual love of storytelling and the written word, that means the most. It's about you.

__"Naomi Bulger's novella Airmail is a postmodern take on the connections between people, and the effects people can have on us... Airmail is a philosophical cupcake; perfect to enjoy in one go with a cup of tea on a rainy afternoon. This is a book that will leave its footprints in your mind for days."
--Spitpress magazine (Issue 8) >>

"Part insider’s tour of downtown New York, part insider’s tour of a delusional brain, Airmail, the debut novella by Enmore author Naomi Bulger, is 'as illuminating and entertaining as a well-wrought parable,' according to Driftwood Manuscripts. I call it strange. And beautiful. Rollicking entertainment for the thinking reader."
--Inner West Live >>

(ps. Need more to read? I'm also on English Muse today)

_(Except it's not actually made with pumpkin, but butternut squash to give it a lovely, sweet flavour. Meh. Potato potahto.)

It's autumn in Australia and, although Melbourne seems to be clinging to the mother of all Indian summers, the leaves are turning gold and brown and the nights are most definitely cooler. This puts me in the mood for soup.

_I have been searching and experimenting for ages to get just the right kind of pumpkin soup for my winter mood: hearty but not too thick; creamy but not too rich; scented with autumn spices but still classic. Comforting. Homelike. I adapted this recipe from one on Good Eatin' With Lynne and I do believe I've found my pumpkin/butternut squash soup holy grail at last.

Let me know if you end up making this. We ate it with thick slices of Vienna loaf, warmed in the oven and then buttered. It was delicious.

Ingredients:

1 butternut squash
1 tbsp olive oil
1 large onion, finely chopped
1 fat garlic clove, coarsely chopped
1 tsp minced fresh ginger
1/2 tbsp brown sugar
1/2 tsp nutmeg
1/2 tsp cinnamon
2-3 cups chicken stock
1/2 cup coconut milk
Freshly ground sea salt (to taste)

To garnish:

A little extra coconut milk
Freshly ground black pepper
Fresh herbs (eg sage leaves, parsley leaves, chopped chives)

Directions:

1. Preheat the oven to 180 C.

2. Halve the squash and scoop out the seeds. Place the halves in a baking tray and brush them with a little olive oil, then roast until the squash is very tender. This will probably take up to an hour, although I sped the process up to half an hour by cutting up the squash into smaller pieces.

3. While the squash is roasting, prepare your other ingredients: chop the onion and garlic, mince the ginger, and place the spices and brown sugar together into a small bowl.

4. When the squash is cooked, remove it from the oven. At the same time, heat the oil in a big pot over a medium-to-low flame, then stir in the onion, garlic, ginger, nutmeg, cinnamon and sugar. Cover and let it cook for about 10 minutes.

5. While the onion and spices are cooking, remove the peel from the squash and toss it out, then cut the squash into smallish chunks.

6. Add the squash and chicken stock to the pot then return the lid and bring it all to the boil. Reduce the heat, cover, and simmer for 10 minutes.

7. If you plan to serve warm bread, pop it in a low oven at the end of the simmer period.

8. Take your soup off the heat and puree it in a blender. Depending on your blender, you may need to let the soup cool off just a little first, to avoid cracking the plastic. (Better still, use an immersion blender. Ahem. I don't have one, Santa.)

9. Return the soup to the pan on the lowest heat. Stir in the coconut milk. Do a little taste-test at this stage. If you think it's needed, add in a little sea-salt, but not too much. 

10. When the soup is hot enough to serve, pour it into serving bowls. Swirl a teaspoon of coconut milk in the centre to decorate each serve, grind pepper over it, then garnish with herbs.

11. Quickly take the bread out of the oven and butter it so the butter melts right in. You're done!

_And here's what you might have missed last week:

• Friends and Finders Keepers in Melbourne
  
• The nesting bonanza
  
• This band sent a monkey into space!
• Henri, the philosophical cat
• This adorable letterpress A-Z of Melbourne
• Free digital design downloads
• The first of the Dear Baby posts

Exploring Nicholson Village while it is still cold, holding hands and holding coffee, squinting into the parallel sun. Toy stores with hand-made and hand-painted wooden bicycles, puzzles, little upholstered toddler armchairs made by an old man in his shed on the coast. A bookstore just for children: pop-up books, cut-out books, glorious collections of classics.

Then it is our dear friends from Sydney, Aaron and Jutta, well-met in Carlton Gardens. To me, "You're so big it's hard to hug you now!" And to Mr B, "You look positively svelte by comparison." The instant chatter of good friends with months of sharing to pack into mere hours. Aaron and I lag behind. I am footsore with pregnancy, and he limps after having just finished the Oxfam Trailwalk at 6am. I am astounded he is upright.

Outside the the historic Carlton Exhibition buildings, the lineup for the Taco Truck snakes around corners, but we head straight inside to browse the Finders Keepers markets and marvel in all the crafty talent. We buy some hand-painted gift-cards, a three-tiered cake-stand made from old records, and little grey winter pantaloons for the baby, spotted in ladybird red.

Back into the sunshine, which is high and hot and glorious now despite the calendar insisting it is mid autumn, we enter the happy, eclectic bustle of Brunswick Street. Italian paperies, an old-fashioned puppet workshop, vintage clothing, milliners, outlets for emerging artists, and pubs, cafes and restaurants that spill out into the sun-drenched street.

We take the back streets to Min Lokal for a late lunch of grilled haloumi on radish and chat potatoes, Moroccan spiced baked beans with labna and dukkah, and crispy pork-belly over caramelised apple salad.

Then we hug and kiss again. "I can hardly reach you," they insist as I awkwardly try to bend forward, past my own belly and into their arms. We part ways but I am not as sad as usual because I will see them again next week when I head up to Sydney for a brief visit of my own. Mr B and I walk hand in hand back up Brunswick Street, looking in all the shop windows. A drunk man sitting on a park bench enjoying a brown-bottle beverage from a time-honoured paper bag yells at me: "You're pregnant!" then dissolves into gales of laughter.

Home as the sun begins to set, it surprises me how early it sleeps these days. Mr B heads into the bedroom for a little rest and the dog follows, eager steal a nap on the bed since I always tell him no. I rest my aching feet on the couch and read a couple more chapters of The Harp in the South before starting on the roast butternut squash soup that will be our dinner.

How was your Saturday?

All photos are from Finders Keepers today. I must remember to take my camera out more often, but I was too busy having a good time.

I don't have a regular 'favourite things Friday' post for you today. Nor did I come even close to getting through the mountain of work on my desk.

Something happened this morning, and I don't know how to explain it except to say that I guess my body released a massive hit of hormones around about breakfast time, because all of a sudden I started nesting in the biggest possible way.

I mean, I made to-do lists of things I needed to finish before baby arrived (everything from finishing off commissioned work to cooking and freezing meals). I emailed my friends in Sydney to tell them I'd be up for one last pre-baby visit, next weekend.

I made shopping lists of everything I needed to buy before baby arrived, from car-carriers and bassinettes to socks and onesies. 

I called my mum: "Will I need this one or that one? How long before baby gets too big for that?"

Then I hit the Internet. First Mothercare, then Babies R Us, and finally Etsy where I made the sweet little vintage and handmade 'wish list' collection below. It was a veritable nesting bonanza.

I promise to do my best to return this blog to normal next week. And in the meantime, have a wonderful weekend!

Meet one of my favourite* bands in Melbourne, Skipping Girl Vinegar. They just sent a monkey named Baker into space. This is Baker. Almost in space.

First, they built a little space ship out of foam and gaffer tape. They piled into an old Volkswagen Kombi and drove out to an open field on Mount Barker in the Adelaide Hills, South Australia.

3. 2. 1. Blastoff!

Baker soared up, up and away, carrying with him a small video camera, and an MP3 player that beamed their new single "Chase the Sun" and other messages from the people (and monkeys) of Earth out to the universe.

He made it to 110,000 feet, almost to the edge of space, before his balloon burst and he deployed his parachute, drifting gently back home.

Watch Baker in action (and listen to the lovely song) here:

What did you think? I suppose I liked Baker's safe landing best of all. Although after all his adventures, I wanted them all to run up and hug him.

Ok, I wanted to run up and hug him. You know, "Hooray! You're back! Safe and sound! Let's go and have a cup of tea together." That sort of thing.

*I am making one of those nerdy "I liked them when" claims. I liked them when they called themselves May Fly. They were supporting an artist I went to see at The Basement in Sydney aeons ago. At least 10 years. I don't remember the headline artist but I do remember these guys and their glorious harmonies. I bought their EP. If you ever come across a single called "Said and Done" by May Fly, have a listen. It will transport you.

In the meantime, I'm listening to their latest album "Keep Calm, Carry the Monkey" as I type this. It makes me sigh in the best way.

(All images from Skipping Girl Vinegar on Facebook)

Meet Henri, the feline philosopher. Oh how he breaks my heart! The mournful way he hangs his head while submitting to the indignity of having his butt hair trimmed. His slow turn to camera, bringing home the irony of a little sign, "Pay attention to the cat." ("Not that they ever do.")

And oh! Henri! "Immortalised on the wall. Forgotten on the floor." I sob.

Credit:
I first saw Henri on Hila Lumiere's blog, le projet d'amour. You should visit her lovely blog now and if you like what you see (which I'm quite sure you will), vote for Hila in the Best Australian Blogs competition. (There are several pages of blogs, listed alphabetically, and Hila's blog is listed under the letter 'L' on page three as "le projet d'amour.")

Elsewhere:
Today I'm back on the English Muse, bringing you a taster from the stunning Hindu Festival of Colours. Won't you pop in and tell me what you think?

Image from Pison Jaujip

I came across this wonderful letterpress Illustrated A to Z of Melbourne today, by Benjamin Puckering, and couldn't resist buying it for the baby.

As Baby B grows up, so many of these items will become familiar symbols of home to our little one. Like, "T is for tram" and "V is for Victoria State Library" and "F is for Flinders Street Station." Isn't it adorable?

(I took the photo on the right on Instagram a couple of weeks back. When I saw Benjamin's design I had a "Woah!" moment. It's even the same number.)