Carlosticus.

This is the little brother I kicked out out of my house... because he was always at the skatepark instead of doing his dishes.

This is why.

Digs to Levi Turner for the sic videography

Sharing is Caring.

It's already cut out to be the best summer yet... I'm in Melbs, the sun is out, tans are glowing and all my friends are pottering about doing what friends do best - sharing.

We've shared sunny brick walls with our backs pressed up and stockings off, seasons of Sons of Anarchy (my latest series vice), sunny afternoons on the deck and tobacco pouches, breakfasts in bed with baby, jolly conversations with strangers, crazy European adventure stories, an appreciation for arts and sculptures, kisses and visits to dirty hostels and the Vineyard in St Kilda, somewhat painful work related events turned good by a sense of fun and Captain Planet costumes, tattoo ideas and cherry breakfast doobies on days off, coffees and giggles, loose Sunday Fundays with bicycles, dim sims and silly friends pulling faces, laughs at workmates (not to be confused with 'with'), new workmates, creatively constructed messages using only emojiis, more sunny afternoons on the deck, cackles via Skype, a new barbeque, our beautiful city and BEERS. Thats a lot of caring!

Oh, and Canada and I discovered the Meaning of Life whilst walking from Hawkesburn to the Corner in Richmond very high on a Sunday Funday afternoon:

All you need is your little pouch and some sturdy shoes because, at the end of the day, we're really just walking around the world for free.

Tasman Rhapsody.

My Tasmanian mini-stay was nice. It occurred about two months ago, but in a totally unrelated manner I seemed to branch off into a complete and utter careless state of mind soon after returning to my city... 

But as I said Tassie was very nice. Nan and Pa were visited and much kissing and hugging ensued... the polaroid camera was pulled out and passed round... vintage secondhand stores were looted and breakfast houses were accommodating and fed us delicious things (Raspberry Farm pancakes - yes please). Mumma was so heavily pregnant and I felt lucky to witness her a week or so off D-day. It was also very nice to be mothered (talk about nesting mode) - I got my vans all muddy whilst trekking with my little brother and in the morning discovered them all cleaned and neat sitting by the front door. You don't take that sort of thing for granted after you've had to do it yourself so long!

As per the attached photographs, follow our doings: Much hiking of the country around Mum and Tom's little pocket of land with my brother (who may or may not know some of my deepest secrets as a result), markets, coffees, the exultant discovery of a beautiful vintage Olivetti portable typewriter in mint condition for a mere fifteen dollars, visits to Devonport and the Spirit (oh hello, The Spirit), absorbing the abuse of a six year old wench who wanted to use our playground equipment, blustery wind, sea spray and baby kicks.