Yesterday we were intrepid.
Despite the misty horizontal rain basting the backs of our legs, the pre-end-financial-year-roadworks-frenzy on the Freeway (driving at 25kmph on rain-slicked bitumen top-dressed with loose gravel), avoiding the occasional jack-knifed semi, we ventured outside and across town to Mawson Lakes to help some aspie folks build l33t games boxen for a gaming LAN.
Flushed with LANy bravado we visited the amazing Mr Rowe, who develops open-telephony hardware, participates in HAMness and OLPC. We found him amongst a gaggle of geeks building an electric car. Penguin folks, bike geeks, engineers, mechanics. Interesting overlaps between different facets of 'make-culture'. An XO laptop decked the shed rafters in cheery green and white, recording proceedings.
We then also visited Mr Smith who helped me remove beer glasses from a friend's promotional photo by supplying me with a fix of Photoshop. I can order coffee in gimp, but when the bit wrangling gets crafty my brain and muscle memory still maps to a fluency in Photoshop. Mr Smith takes the nine lives of cats literally and is running them in a parallel array of feline political intrigue. Baden has offered to put me in touch with a person who could supply me with 35 lava lamps for my nephew's 21's birthday. He also has an unsurpassed collection of science fiction viewing, and a room full of graphic novels and other visual anthologies. We returned home with our bounty (image, muffins, a collection of space1999 DVDs), but without my wayward handbag. So I will have to collect the bag on Monday.
Today we are at home in our canine household. Our two Ridgebacks squelched with enthusiasm in the swamp, they met a friend of the same cultural heritage, and arranged to meet Wolfie in his backyard for further romping. Our fridge is sunning itself on the front verandah. Soup is bubbling on the wood stove. I burnt my fingers on the flue and they are also simmering in the radiant heat.
This afternoon we are watching the space1999 crew traverse space/time with technology which will be the next Steampunk. Clunky 1970s hardware interfaces have their own polyester sincerity and blocky, retro charm. The digitalwatchesque typeface gives the credits illegible mystique. One dog is missing, but Kim is sitting on the couch covered by a blanket with an incriminating wet nose, the other is basking like a realestate agent with a monopoly on beachfront, full length in front of the stove.
A hobbyist train plays up and down the park. Once upon a time we might have had a service here, but these days it is a steam train or other rail-bound novelty which rides the tracks on Sundays. Pedestrian commuters walk the rails on other days.
Tonight we will brave the Freeway again to feast at Sam's on homespun curry dishes and our pot of soup.
Autumn is my favourite time of year. It is cold enough to enjoy making things warm. The garden is finally reviving and patches of blue and sun showers are flashing across the landscape. The world feels hopeful.