Red Paper Crane.

I accidentally started myself on a photo a day project this year. Meaning, I found myself on the third of Janurary with a photo for each day already passed and thought ‘why not?’. A year or so back I attempted a photo a day project, I got 271 out of 365. So my aim this year is to improve.

These were taken with my iPhone and the hipstamatic app which Im having a lot of fun with, I also use camerabag which is similar but different. Last time I found the hardest part of the 365 project was the processing and upload, so the iphone apps takes care of the processing for me, and I use the flickr app for uploading.

I give myself 2 more days till I take a picture of my cat, I’ve resisted the urge a bunch of times already.

Sometimes I think folks forget what it’s like to learn to drive.

You’ve spent your entire life until this point being kept away from devices that can injure, maim and flatten. Then you reach some arbatrary age and somehow it’s decided that giving you an object that can not only do all the aforementioned features but can do them to yourself at the same time is a good and logical idea.

I was skeptical, but then walking the 6 or so ks from Phil’s house to the tram(25 min), which will take me to the train (50 min usually on a Sunday so I get to socialise with the weekend public transport weirdos) gets pretty old pretty fast.

Infact it got old so fast I may never of actually done it, the mear thought of having to spend such a prolonged journey with the great unwashed rendered me unable to leave the house.

Then there was the indignity of having to request lifts from my little (by 6 years) brother.

And that very embarising occasion where by I got myself into a discussion regarding cars with a person involved with Top Gear Australia, only to be asked “what car you got?” and having to answer ” um… I can’t drive. ”

Yeah, awesome.

So I told myself I’d learn to drive and self added that while I’m at it I may as well learn how to drive a manual. Because when have I ever made things easier on myself?

The first hitch was that the only manual car I had access to was my grandmothers (who is fairly awesome – but due to her being fairly awesome she also has a life and I didn’t think she would appretiate her car disappearing every time I got the whim for a driving lesson). So my lessons were sparse and sporadic. I learnt very little.

So cut to a few weekends ago where my dad informs me that there’s a Saab in a nearby car lot going for $5000. I really don’t like SAABs, to me they’re more boats with wheels than propper road transport. I wasn’t going to turn my nose up at a bargan, however on closer inspection the boat based description was accurate, right down to the water damage. What had really caught my eye was a spunky little black hatch on the other side of the car lot. It was all shine and leather seats.

So for the past few weeks I have been owning and driving my own car. Being taught tag-team style by my brother, boyfriend and father. I can make it go (and stop)! And I’m getting good at getting it aroud corners. Those teaching me have complained of motion sickness, boredom and (my favorite) of being strangled by the seatbelt because my breaking is occasionally sudden.

At this stage I don’t really feel like I’ll ever actually be able to drive, but I have been assured that will pass. As will the fear of other cars and speed humps.

I had a little bit of a magical Saturday this weekend. One of those first day of summer holidays days; you wake up and the possibilities of what could be done stretch before you in a landscape of gold and ruby prettiness.

And since Im one of those people who count sleeping in a gift from above, this Saturday I slept in. Gloriously snoozed as the birds woke up, had a shower, fed the kids. jumped into their trees and sang until I was gently awake.

The original plans for Saturday were built around the need for Phil to go into the city to fix up his car registration due to his laptop blowing up the night before. However on waking it was discovered that dates were read poorly and that the car would keep for one more week.

Being liberated from our original task put us on the spot, we were showered, dressed, but had no car rego to fix. So being the creative sparks we are and being tired of all our local breakfast haunts, we decided to bop into the city anyway.

This decision found us in the shiny, but mostly empty Docklands. It’s an area designed for huge crowds. But as huge crowds don’t inhabit the area on generic Saturday mornings, it was mostly ours.

We cruised the breakfast choices along the waterfront for a little while, marveling at the pretty architecture, ugly architecture, and general emptiness of the place until happening on a shiny place overhanging the water.

For this part of our journey, all there is to say is NOM NOM NOM. Phil had the big breakky, I had the BLT. Then we waddled out.

I let the universe know that a tram right about nowish would be really convenient, as over breakfast we had decided to go check out a fancy suit for phil in a fancy spot on the other side of town. And lo, I turned around, an a tram with a destination matching ours trundled into view, giving us just the right amount of time to get ourselves and our full stomachs to the tram stop.

We inspected the suit but decided that it would have looked much better with a pin stripe rather than a check. Meandering through various lane ways, I exclaimed ‘where are we’ and ‘I’ve never been here before’ so many times I may as well have been in another country.

The giant empty place, walking around the alley and the giant breakfast had made us weary, so we turned our sails from home and hopped on a train.

Hopping off a stop too soon so we could stroll in the sun. I spied a chalk arrow on the ground.

“I feel like playing follow the arrows”

To wit Phil spun me in the direction of the arrow and we walked heads down in search of the next one. We had found 5 when we saw the pub in the distance and Phil mused that if the arrows lead there we would just have to stop for a beer. One or two more arrows in the right direction and we were there, and yes, there were chalk arrows pointing into the pub door.

‘But they’re drawn in a different stye” I cried.
“Dosn’t matter, the arrows say beer”
I checked for more arrows in the right direction.
“Did you set this up?”
But Phil replied in the negative.

We sat outside in the sun watching the traffic, sipping beer and musing about nothing much. After letting the day and the beer soak in, we picked ourselves up and wandered home.