Since my father is being awful, I abandoned work and went to sit out in the garden with a glass of wine. Here is the first orb weaver of the season - even if she has lost two of her legs, she's still pretty. She is an Argiope keyserlingi, aka St Andrew's Cross. Her web is a bit messy and I wondered if that has to do with having lost a couple of legs.


Later. Even so she caught her dinner. I sat watching her munching and turning it around. She'll take forever to eat this lot.


I'm rather pleased with this picture of a fly on a nasturtium leaf.


Everytime I leave the room Bella occupies my chair. Technically, it's her chair. She sleeps on it so much that she has worn out the upholstery - hence the sarong. But I've taken to working at this table lately and we have an ongoing battle for the chair. Note the left ear, cocked in case I try to sit on her.


When I'm on the chair she snoozes on the table in front of me. She particularly likes the map of South Australia. She's not really sleeping though. As soon as I get up she'll be back on the chair.

A clean towel not put away is a good spot for a nap.

Here's a picture of an over-coddled cat, enjoying the first real warmth of summer.


The moth invasion continues, along with various other insects. These two were tiny, maybe 1 cm long, but I'm pretty sure they're moths.


I don't think this is a moth. Its head looks like an ant's. It was on the shower curtain and the body/wings were also about 1 cm. I guess that losing a leg might be an occupational hazard for such a creature.


I also want to mention the 50th anniversary of sputnik yesterday. I remember standing with my whole family (we didn't often do stuff together) on the back lawn gazing up at a speck of light blinking across the sky. I was disappointed to learn yesterday (via Nikita Khrushchev's son who is a rocket scientist in America) that it wasn't the actual satellite we saw, only the main rocket since the satellite was too small to be seen with the naked eye. But that explains why I don't see zillions of little blinking lights up there now. For the last 50 years, every time I've looked at the stars I've searched for at least one little blinking light that moves in relation to the stars. Why didn't they tell me?

Anyway, it was a memorable occasion. I've no idea what my parents thought about the dread Soviet Union winning the space race, but for us kids it was just mind blowing. I was 9 and that thing was up there in Outer Space (as we called it then). Maybe it explains why I like looking at NASA pictures. And I wonder what today's 9 year-olds would find comparable.

I also wish I was a rocket scientist, rather than plain stupid. I've just given up nearly half of my study leave working on a project that looks like it's about to be killed by bureaucratic politics in Canberra.

My wardrobe is where I throw things in order to maintain a semblance of external order in the bedroom. Lately, it has been virtually impossible to close the doors and the external order no longer exists. So today I decided to purge. I found things I didn't know I had.

I made a big mountain on the bed, while Bella stalwartly held her ground on her little colour-coordinated patch of blue dressing gown and white duvet. Eyes tight shut.


The sheer size of the mountain forced me to pour a glass of wine. Then I filled two garbage bags - one for the bin, the other for St Vincent de Paul. But I still have a load of things to try on, to see if they still fit, and to iron.

It's a stupid wardrobe. I really like the old fashioned exterior, but the arrangement of shelves and hanging rails inside really minimizes the storage space. I really need to do some carpentry on it. Maybe I'll do something about that tomorrow!

I haven't thought of anything I wanted to post this week. I do my undergrad teaching, with only half my mind on it (not sure where the rest is). I keep my administrative work up to date, go to committee meetings etc (and neglect things at home!). I fail, yet again, to get stuck into marking my students' work - if I don't do some this weekend it's getting serious.

I have a fantastic group of PhD students. We meet every week and drink a lot and talk about exciting stuff. This week we planned how three of us would go to Vietnam together in September-October - and other things that I can't really write about here because it's related to their work. My dream career is where I have only research students and my own research to deal with.

Last night my cat Bella and I had a major drama. We got woken up from our peaceful sleep by the orange cat, Ted, from upstairs. He came through the window rather noisily. I woke up with a start at the same time she did. Somehow, her claw ripped my left index finger as she leapt towards the window. Ted took off like greased lightning, but she started to make dreadful noises and bare her teeth. I wanted to close the window, but couldn't get near it for fear of being attacked. So I went and washed my finger and put a bandaid on it and then just lay down and waited for her to calm down - which took a good half hour. Eventually, she snuggled up again as if nothing had happened. So I got up and closed the window. I've had cats all my life, but never seen anything quite like that before.

When I come home from work these days I find Bella asleep on the bed. She wakes up and waits for me to greet her. While I'm putting things in place, opening letters, getting a drink, etc., she wanders into the kitchen and looks disparagingly at her bowl of leftovers from the last meal. She makes a sort of squeaking sound that says "that lot is stale, I'd like some fresh thank you". So I put more food down. I go and turn the computer on to check my email and LJ. Lots of loud squeaking comes from the kitchen. That means she has finished snacking and it's time to open the back door so she can go and explore the garden. There is a permanently open window that she could use, but no way will she use it once I'm at home. She sits there and meows plaintively until I open the door. She steps out and sits three feet away watching me for a half a minute. Then she's off, to what mysterious destination I don't know. The only thing I do know is that it isn't far. I think she watches the house. When the lights are all out, she knows I've gone to bed and she jumps in through the window and snuggles up under my chin.

That has been the routine for a month or more. Before that she used to sit on the mat by the front door, waiting for me to come home. Everything else was the same.