There's a post brewing about my motherhood stuff. It's in draft form and every couple of nights I open it up and type a few words or a sentence here and there, and then suddenly feel really, really tired and have to aimlessly cruise flickr or go to bed. I think this draft is blocking me from writing about all sorts of other stuff. Like opshopping. Sometimes when I read dear meagan or fiveandtwo and about their fabulous opshop scores, alongside the vicarious pleasure ( a bit like the best kind of make believe/virtual/internet opshopping), I get this feeling oh, I don't go opshopping anymore, boohoo. Which is just not true. Not at all. There is always some opshopping (or trash and treasuring) in my life. Without it, I feel bereft, so lately I've taken to having a longer lunch break and once a week, striding down to one of the oppys near work. Last week I got some fantastic new tea towells and small tableclothes useful for draining glasses in the scullery. This week I found an orange folder of neatly ring bound women's weekly cooking supplements. I can't tell you how much pleasure it's given me, the touch of old paper, the history, the recipes. And this one spoke to me, not that I see myself cooking prawns at home on a weeknight.
I remember my mother making us dresses like this and I think there's some photos somewhere which I might drag out for a flashback friday soon. Except mine wasn't white, but lurid purple. A bit like the dress in Miles Franklin's, My Brilliant Career, you know the moment when she gets out the beautiful dress her mother has slaved over and it's all wrong, it's lurid and gaudy. All the other girls have dresses that are tasteful, pale and understated. And then she digs herself into an even worse hole and says it's the dress of some girl who died.
There is also a book on cooking with potatoes, some racey rice packet pictures, copha cooking (but no White Christmas or Chocolate Crackles which are the only foods occasionally justifying the actual ingestion of copha, in my opinion), spring lamb cooking (yum, yum pigs bum), some cakes and slices, kids cakes and a book of wedding cake designs. Which contained this one, for a young wedding.
It's decorated with jasmine, pink rosebuds and the bride and groom design is flooded onto the cake. I don't know what that means exactly, but all the other designs look stuffy and middle aged by comparison. Not hard, I guess, when this couple look like very young children.