Have you ever met your hero?

Have you ever met your hero? The closest I ever came was sipping a Bloody Mary in Bar Hemingway at The Ritz, Paris, thinking, "Ernest Hemingway probably sat right here. He looked out of that window onto that almost-unchanged view." If only time could have compressed, turned back in on itself, or simply rolled backward Midnight in Paris-style, I would have been sharing the same space, breathing the same air, as my greatest literary hero. What would I have said to him? What would he have said to me? Anything at all? Would it have been a glorious moment to treasure forever, or a bitter disappointment?

On Friday I was privileged to be part of DPCON12, a massive blogger conference in Melbourne hosted by Digital Parents. But the program wasn't the least bit limited to parents: we covered topics from using blogs for social good (particularly by partnering with not-for-profit organisations) to the process of going from blog to book (with folks on the panel who had done just that), and workshops on how to use your blog to generate other paid writing work.

For me, this conference was also an amazing opportunity to meet new bloggers and, through them, to hear new voices. I haven't been part of the Digital Parents community, so it was all very new to me: they are a cohesive, self-supporting unit bonded through familiar experiences (and regular reading), with their own language and subtle morays and behavioural expectations.

It could have been intimidating and by the eve of the conference, I confess I was feeling the fear. However, the reality was that I was warmly accepted into this world, and my relatively different life experiences and blogging style did not stop this lovely group from making me feel part of their family. What really got me thinking was when a certain speaker would be called to the stage, or a certain blogger would stand up to ask a question, and the room would erupt with screams and cheers and applause.

Not having been part of this community, I rarely knew the one speaker or blogger from another. But almost everyone else seemed to, this close-knit family. And I realised that, for many people at this conference, they were meeting their heroes. Bloggers they had admired and sometimes even interacted with online were here in the flesh (or "IRL," an acronym that I learned stood for "in real life," but you probably knew that already).

And I thought, what if some of the big bloggers I'd known and admired in the past year had stood up there? People whose words I'd read and lives I'd watched through Internet windows, hearts that had opened to me, the anonymous stranger: how would I have felt if they then materialised, "IRL," as part of a panel? What if they had been there to chat with me later over cake and tea? I'm pretty sure I'd have been cheering like the room was on Friday, for people I didn't know. After all, it'd be a little bit like meeting my own heroes.

I guess that's the crossover that blogging, blogger conferences and meet-ups offer: we are no longer just reading words, as we would in a book. On a blog, we are reading words, glimpsing lives, being invited into hearts... yet all the while we remain strangers. But a blogging conference - something entirely new to me until Friday - means stepping over what remains of the "stranger" boundary and into "friend" or, in some cases, "family." It's pretty special.

Favourite things - words & letters

Happy Friday, dear friend (brought to you by Thursday night since I will be up at the crack of dawn to attend DPCON12 tomorrow). Have a lovely one! 1. Words for strangers I am such a big, big fan of Hermine Van Dijck of journal de jours, I don't know how I missed this wonderful project of hers, Words for Strangers. Hermine says, "Sometimes people need a secret message. A word from a stranger." And she is so right! She hangs little messages for strangers wherever she goes. And now, through the magic of the world wide web, her words are being left all over the world. I think Melbourne could do with some words for strangers. It may be time for me to join in.

2. Hand-drawn letters These letters just pop with personality, don't you think? I want to drink tea and toast crumpets with them. By Mary Kate McDevitt via Parcel Post.

3. Masterful understatements from literature "I realize now that there's a lot to be said for travelling if you want to see something new." Jules Verne, Around the World in Eighty Days

4. The Note Swap I was alerted to this adorable Note Swap project by Brandi of Not Your Average Ordinary but the time differences between us meant that by the time I woke up and clicked through, the project was full. If like me you missed out, you can always join up with Katie of Letters from Strangers.

5. Sent well And finally, if all these posts on words and letters inspire you to get back to hand-writing letters to friends (or strangers for that matter) but you simply lack the time, Sent-Well is your answer. It's pretty simple: choose a card from the website, give them your message, and they will hand-write the message and post it to your friend for you. It's the personal touch, without the hand-cramps! Nifty, huh?

Starlings

(This print by Laura Ruth on Etsy)

Last October, this glorious video of a murmuration of starlings over a river in Ireland went viral. I missed it, what with our overseas holiday and my somewhat surprising pregnancy (and subsequent morning sickness). So just in case your attention was elsewhere, too, I'm sharing it here.

[vimeo http://www.vimeo.com/31158841 w=525&h=420]

Murmuration from Islands & Rivers on Vimeo.

What did you think? I am touched by their collective beauty and precision and, in particular, the mystery they hold. Still nobody knows exactly how these birds create such glorious patterns, en masse, like clockwork.

Starlings are all over Etsy, too. Here are some lovely pieces I found. Top L-R: starling doll; starling migration map; starling & roses woodcut Middle L-R: starling greeting card; starling pin; starling skirt Bottom L-R: starling bag; starling print; starling light-theatre photo

As long as our hearts are beating

A simple gift for you today, from husband and wife duo Jenny and Tyler(first seen on The Ardent Sparrow). Just lovely! [youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MBh-gMR0OW0] Thank you for your heartfelt comments, emails, Facebook messages and phone calls about this post. They truly meant the world to me. I feel so blessed to have such a wonderful community around me, near and far.

Favourite things - for the child and childlike

Author George MacDonald once said, "I do not write for children, but for the childlike, whether of five, or fifty, or seventy-five." Isn't that a lovely statement? As a person who is closer to fifty than five but clearly still rather immature, it is nice to know MacDonald was writing for me. I have been trying not to flood this blog with overkill about the pending arrival of Baby B. But, today, I have indulged in some treats. Not for children, necessarily, but for the childlike among us. Happy Friday.

1. Yarn trail Jordan from Oh Happy Day made this yarn trail for a children's party, an idea I totally plan to copy for Baby B in a few years' time. But I think it has the potential for so many other lovely applications. Like a path to a romantic dinner. Or an interactive art installation in a park. Or a surprise party for a friend. What would you do?

2. Flying people Pretty much every child I know would love to imagine themselves gently sailing skyward clinging to a big balloon. So this is another idea I'll chalk up for future birthday parties. But the original idea was from a wedding, and I can imagine it working for so many other occasions. I first saw it on Happiness Is, then followed the link to this tutorial.

3. Edible crayons Behold: crayons that draw just like normal crayons, but are completely safe and edible. The base is made from ingredients like freeze-dried corn, peanuts, bee pollen and dried bananas. A mixture of healthy nuts, seeds, dried vegetables and fruits is used to create the different colours. I'm ready to place my order. Dear Luxirare, I wish to order one for baby, and a couple of boxes for the grownup pantry. Seen first on this fab blog.

4. Bedroom decor When I saw this post on Etsy I had an "Oh, swoon" moment. It's a "get the look" shoot like the ones you usually see in fashion magazines. (You know, those Celebrity-X-was-seen-walking-through-Tribeca-looking-glamorous-and-if-you-just-buy-this-list-of-items-from-Target-you-can-look-the-same pages?) I don't like those. But this is altogether different. It's a guide to decorating children's bedrooms to reflect their personalities. Though I confess I look at these and think, what about my bedroom? (The two shown here are "The artist" on the left and "The bookworm" on the right.)

5. Puffed pancakes Growing up, special treat breakfasts in our family were always croissants (warm from the oven and sweetened with jam), and French crepes (smothered in lemon juice, sprinkled with sugar, then rolled up). Both of these foods still say "celebration" to me. I'll definitely be keeping this tradition going for Baby B, but I'm also putting these puffed pancakes on the party list. They just look like a celebration, don't you think?

High school and the artist

Do you remember your best friend in high school? I am going to share a little story about mine, and it's a lot more personal than I usually get on this space, so I hope you bear with me. Australian high school lasts six years, from Years 7 to 12 (you're aged roughly around 12 to 18). Late in Year 7, we moved house so I moved high school. All the friendships and groups and cliques had already been formed, and I was more-or-less 'placed' in a social group by the Year Adviser who introduced me to my classes that day.

The kids were nice, and welcoming enough (although I did get called Sandra D because I was little, blonde and very innocent), and I made friends. Not close friends, but I was not alone.

Then on the bus I met a girl named Del. She lived on the same long, country road as me, so we would see each other on the bus to and from school every day. We became friends, and used to ride our horses together in the afternoons after school, and on weekends.

Del was intense, passionate and highly intelligent. We spent our nights reading all three Brontes, mixed up with a good dose of Anne of Green Gables and a teen-typical dollop of Tolkien. Del could draw beautifully, so we would sketch together, Del teaching me how to cross-hatch to create dimensions in the horse or faerie I was attempting (always badly) to bring to life in pencil. We would ride our horses for hour upon hour in the Australian bush, singing at the tops of our lungs, splashing and dancing in bushland creeks, creating ever-higher makeshift 'jumps' from logs and 44-gallon drums over which to leap our horses.

People at school teased Del like they never teased me. I had other friends, I was "mainstream." Del was alone a lot of the time. The teasing hurt her, but she never gave up who she was or what she believed. I chose to conform. Del chose her own path, and in the country high school where we grew up, that hurt her. I tried to stick up for my friend, yelling at the people who teased her, but I only made matters worse. I blustered. I blundered. I missed the bigger point. Several of them, in fact. I was 14.

When I was in Year 9 or 10, I discovered a new group of friends. They were kind, funny, intelligent, and they accepted me for me. I didn't need to conform. High school became at last an exercise in "finding myself" rather than "hiding myself." (Those friends, incidentally, are still my friends. Some of us went to Paris together last year.) Around the same time, our family moved again. I didn't have to change schools, but I no longer caught the bus with Del.

So happy was I in finding this acceptance with my new friends that I missed how I was isolating Del even further. My friends accepted her, too, but she was in a different year to us, and had different classes, so there could never be the same level of connection. I will never forget the day she approached me to tell me she was moving to a Steiner school in a month or so, and that she would spend her lunches with people from her own year until then. That was that. That night, at a sleepover at one of my new friends' place, I cried the entire night while the other girls slept.

I barely saw Del again. I went to university and studied literature. I heard she went to university and studied fine art. I had news of a tragedy that had befallen her family so I went to visit, but it was painfully awkward. I bumbled again, and embarrassed myself. My social skills were inadequate to offer anything worth giving.

Fast forward several years. I'm in an art gallery in Sydney, and there's an exhibition on. It is my old friend, and her work is beautiful. Challenging, confronting, but still so authentically and passionately Del.

I give my card to the gallery owner and ask if he would give it to Del. If she wanted to contact me, she could.

She never did. More time passed. Another friend, also a successful artist, told me that gallery owner would never have bothered to give her my card, but he could put me in contact through the owner of her new gallery. While I pondered whether I wanted to try, confidence waning, Del hit the news.

In 2008, Del won the Archibald Prize, the most important portraiture prize in Australia, for a self-portrait with her two children. I was beyond happy for her, and the painting, which of course I went to see, was glorious.

I felt I couldn't try to contact Del now, it would be like I was trying to hitch my wagon to her star. I did, however, sneak in at the back of a lecture she gave at the Art Gallery of New South Wales, creeping out again at the end before I was seen. As if I would have been recognised.

I've never tried to contact Del since. But I am so proud of my childhood friend as I follow her career.

Then this morning I opened my Google Reader and found this wonderful video of Del made by Dumbo Feather. It brought back all the memories I have shared, and I guess now is as good a time as any to make them public. I must tell you I had a tiny twinge of nerves as I sat down to write this, thinking "What if Del saw it, how embarrassing." But I can be fairly sure Del is not reading this blog.

So now you've seen inside me, a little. I hope you enjoy seeing the inner-workings of this wonderful artist, too. [youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gb1HhOWR8WA]

Favourite things - toothache sweeties

Presenting: five things so sweet they'll give you toothache. 1. The pillbox love-advent Once I lived in a very old lady's house. She had to go into care, but wasn't sure if it would be permanent. So I lived there rent-free, among all her things (overstuffed couches, plastic pillboxes, Charles & Di commemorative plates, unused jaffle-makers) to make sure they were safe. I remember bringing home a new boyfriend for the first time. He picked up one of the pillboxes (marked for each day of the week and each meal of the day) and said "Woah!" Now, at last, I have found something cool about pillboxes. I first saw this on Happiness Is as a Valentine's Day idea. I think I'm going to steal it for the lead-up to Mr B's and my first anniversary.

2. The cat cocoon You have got to be kidding me. A soft, wool, hand-felted little bed for the cat. Could pet supplies get any cuter?

3. The book invitations I adore this idea. Specially selected old books. A custom-made stamp and hand-printed wrap on the front. The full invitation details on a bookplate inside. I can't wait to throw a party so I can make this happen.

4. The confetti wrapping paper This looks so easy, so festive, so special. Beware, friends with birthdays coming up. You are likely to receive confetti paper-wrapped presents!

5. The do-gooder Pip Lincoln makes things, sews things, writes books, writes for Frankie magazine, maintains a blog, and until recently ran a shop. She's also a mum and a wife and a person with a life. Phew! Recently Pip launched the Year of Good Things campaign. The premise is simple: "Do a Good Thing. Every day. For someone you know. Or someone you don't know at all! Document one Good Thing a day, if you can! If you can't document daily that's okay too. Just do your best." It's kind of like those "I'm grateful" posts that so many people are blogging these days. Except, "This is not a gratitude project," Pip says, "it's about making MORE good things happen."

Around the world in 80 pages

Hooray for creative people: writers, journalists, designers, photographers; who take the initiative to showcase their creative work on their own terms. Journalist Brittney Kleyn, for example, garnered her creative friends and produced a zine from her holidays in Europe. Called Around the World in 80 Pages, it's a celebration of travel, discovery, journey and destination.

It's not a travel guide, but it does document the weird, wacky and wonderful discoveries made by Brittney and her friends. Think designers in London, librarians in Berlin, and baristas in Spain. Right up my alley!

I can't wait to read this zine but, more than that, I applaud what Brittney has to say about taking her burgeoning career into her own hands.

The Moonspinners

"Sometimes, when you're deep in the countryside, you meet three girls, walking along the hill tracks in the dusk, spinning. They each have a spindle, and on to these they are spinning their wool, milk-white, like the moonlight. In fact, it is the moonlight, the moon itself, which is why they don't carry a distaff. They're not Fates, or anything terrible; they won't affect the lives of men; all they have to do is see that the world gets its hours of darkness, and they do this by spinning the moon down out of the sky. Night after night, you can see the moon getting less and less, the ball of light waning, while it grows on the spindles of the maidens.""Then, at length, the moon is gone, and the world has darkness, and rest, and the creatures of the hillsides are safe from the hunter and the tides are still... "Then, on the darkest night, the maidens take their spindles down to the sea, to wash their wool. And the wool slips from the spindles, into the water, and unravels in long ripples of light from the shore to the horizon, and there is the moon again, rising from the sea, just a thin curved thread, re-appearing in the sky. Only when all the wool is washed, and wound again into a white ball in the sky, can the moon-spinners start their work once more, to make the night safe for hunted things..." * Excerpt from The Moonspinners by Mary Stewart, 1962. Mary Stewart is my go-to 'guilty pleasure' read: always a bit of adventure, a bit of romance, an exotic location, and the odd literary reference perfectly placed. * Beautiful "Moon Games" photography, used with permission, is by Laurent Laveder and Sabine Sannier. You can buy postcards and even a book from the series here. First seen on b for bel, my go-to blog for cool stuff.

Favourite things - at home

I am in a work frenzy. Deadlines everywhere, but that's a good thing. I'm trying to fit in as much writing as I can before Baby Bulger arrives. If that's not enough to keep me indoors, I am also a prisoner to the weather. It has been hot, hot, hot, and I don't have a car. Walking in 36 degree heat while five months pregnant is not exactly appealing, so I've been staying put. A lot. All of this is a long lead-up to say that this Friday, I'm bringing you five lovely things that are all about... home. 1. Great legs for dancing I saw these adorable drawers on Happiness Is this week and was instantly smitten. They remind me of the dancing furniture in Disney's Beauty and the Beast. Remember when they sang and danced "Be our guest?" These dainty drawers are the creation of Dutch furniture designer Valentin Loellmann and I do so wish they would pirouette into my home. Today.

2. Hidden egg messages I have bookmarked this page on b for bel so that I can learn how to hide little messages for our girls in eggs all around the house and courtyard at Easter. Won't it be just lovely? Originally from She Exists, a site I may well need to peruse more often.

3. Magic inside Confession: I have a thing for snowglobes. I love the idea of tiny, frozen worlds inside a glass dome. So often, though, the snowglobes inside my head are much more magical than the tacky reality on tourist-shop shelves. But these scenes created by Walter Martin and Paloma Munoz are more creative and surreal than anything I could imagine. While I live out my days inside our little house, I think about these tiny snowglobe worlds, too.

4. Dresses that fit As my entire body morphs and expands to make room for Baby Bulger, fashion has taken rather a back seat. To the point that my most frequently-worn clothes are Em's drawstring pyjama pants, and a pair of "jeggings" with an elastic waist. (Note: the only thing more bogan than jeggings is jeggings with a big black elastic band to cover your belly. Yes, I have sunk this low). Then two of my gorgeous friends in Sydney sent me a little gift to buy some maternity clothes and, voila! I felt human again!

5. Super cool treasure The Super Cool calls itself "A mobile emporium that goes to the people with an eclectic mix of everyday objects from around the world." Which is a rather fancy way to say it's a rad treasure-hunt-esque shop. It's also a pop-up shop, appearing all over the place (that's the "goes to the people" bit, I guess). The Super Cool is at the South Melbourne Market right now, so I'm thinking I'll venture just a little outside the house for a peek.