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hello, i’m so glad you’re here

June 21, 2014

This online space is a collection of stories of the times during our weekends that are lived within the space of our arm’s reach… the places that are the source of our ‘humanness’… the foundations on which the rest of our life is built. The pieces of our life that quietly pass by – no grand adventures, no obviously meaningful exchanges. The moments where chores happen, we take our children to sports practise, we do our grocery shopping, go for a run, attend a weekend event, spend reverent time with our chosen deity, catch up with friends, try something new or stay home and fold the laundry.

The moments we often perceive as everyday / boring / not worth telling about, are very often just the moments that someone else craves… These are the moments that make up our lives… These are weekends, collected.

» We’d love to have you join us

fridays are the best

September 14, 2014

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it feels like my weekends truly begin when we are both in the kitchen, winding down from the week and preparing a nice relaxed meal together – Fridays are the best.

everything seems more cozy – we get to enjoy our new home and chat about how our days went and what we want to do over the weekend. The best weekends are when nothing is scheduled.

you’ll often find me enjoying a lazy evening watching a movie with my spouse, our roomie Max the cat curled up at our feet

not thinking about anything much

and we like to make homemade pizza chopping the ingredients and snacking a bit on the mozzarella cheese.

the soundtrack to my weekend is a quiet house with sports games on in the background

i’d rather be curled up in a chair reading a book

than doing laundry

and this weekend, i’ll be watching reruns of Springwatch – I can’t get enough of that show.

and if i could, i would get up early on Sunday and go to the spa for a nice morning in hot baths and the steam room, melting all the knots out before the start of another busy week.

Kif a.k.a Katherine Forster is an urban wanderer – appreciator of detail – lover of messy green spaces and hoarder of downtime. She takes tiny steps, every chance she can get, towards her new career as an urban biophilic entrepreneur.

Blog: flourishinggrace.ca

bearing drizzle and beauty

August 31, 2014

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it was drizzly and grey. and quiet. i stepped outside and headed to the garden. i knew there were tomatoes waiting for me. turned out the sunflowers were waiting for me too. one of them had tumbled over in the night, its weight just too much to bear. i cut off the blooms and brought them inside, placed them in a jar of water.

the rain continued to fall. my husband and kids were reading or drawing or something. a saturday morning with nowhere to be but exactly where we were. drizzly and grey. and quiet. i roasted the tomatoes and made photographs of the flowers. i had to catch my breath. because sometimes the beauty is just too much to bear.

michelle gd is a lover of life and a seeker of ways to capture the tiny moments of that life. she can be found at her blog, the collaborative blog makings of motherhood, and on instagram.

taco fridays

August 24, 2014

I’m not sure when I first discovered Mexican food. Most likely during university in Auckland, where the only place to get it was The Mexican Cafe. Burritos, questadillas, enchiladas – they did most of the “fast” Tex-Mex staples, and had an excellent Tequila selection.

However, until recently, tacos where never really my thing. The only ones I knew of were the hard-shelled ones, which were messy and usually quite boring. They always looked too small – good for a starter, but not for a main. After spending more time in the US – California, really, but also Austin, TX – I learned to think of them as more than a snack. The Taco is the perfect flavour delivery vehicle.

tacos2

A Taco is a very simple, but flexible, thing. Take a small corn tortilla, grill or steam it a little to make it more flexible and warm, add some topping, and eat. It can be anything from a bite size to a meal, and can contain anything which isn’t too liquid. Supreme flexibility.

So, after getting a tortilla press for my birthday, we started experimenting with various flavours and combinations. I usually start with the meat: prawn, fish, chicken, and sometimes steak or slow cooked brisket. Add in a sauce or something else gooey: flavoured mayonnaise, mashed avocado and top it off with some slaw, cabbage or other greens. La Boca Loca in Wellington have some of the best tacos I’ve tasted, and The Lucky Taco in Auckland regularly goes crazy with things like Ox tongue, tripe and even brains.

Yup. Zombie Tacos.

For us, tacos are usually an end of week thing – a Friday treat after a week at work, and the last Friday we spent at home was no exception. I think it came out as one of our best.

Japanese-inspired Tuna tacos

tacos1

  • 6 small to medium sized tortilla
  • 200g tuna loin, around 1-2cm thick
  • Shot of tequila (shochu or sake could also work)
  • A not very hot (but flavourful) chilli
  • Japanese mayonnaise
  • 3 limes (2 for just the juice)
  • 100g Wakame seaweed salad

This made 6 tacos, which is enough for 2-3 people. This filling could easily be stretched to 8 tacos.

Slice the tuna loin into strips about 1cm thick. Put in a bowl with the tequila, some chilli and the juice of 2 limes. Leave to soak for 15 mins or so while you do the other things.

Mix a decent amount of Japanese mayonnaise with the zest of one lime, and the juice of half of the lime. Mix and leave to marinate.

Heat the corn tortilla in a dry frypan or grill plate. You want to make them warm, a bit floppy, and possibly (depending on taste) a little crispy. I usually do them one at a time, and put them in a tea towel to keep them warm and steam them a little. I prefer corn over wheat, too, but that’s just a personal taste.

Once they are cooked, cook the fish to taste – a little crispy on the outside, still rare on the inside. Distribute onto the tortilla, add the lime mayo on top, and finish with wakame. Eat right away.

Perfect.

Nic Wise lives with his wife, one cat and a garden full of birds on a small island just off the coast of Auckland, New Zealand. He can usually be found writing apps for his iPhone, or taking photos on Instagram.

friday quote

August 15, 2014

We wait, starving for moments of high magic to inspire us, but life is a banquet of common enchantment waiting for our alchemist’s eyes to notice.
- Jacob Nordby

august 3, 2014

August 10, 2014

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sunday. central turns into little manila. I walk through the crowds; pushing my way through. everyone annoys me – with their slow walking, with their screaming kids, with their incapability of walking in a straight or predictable way. this summer seems to be hotter than any of the others. lately, I feel overwhelmed despite never being the particular type to feel in such a way. I used to be able to keep my head above water, remain cool. I have been losing that ability.

I started working on a different project last month. something I hope will last. something that feels like the right thing. dream job. I’m pushing myself out of my boundaries and comfort zone. it’s difficult sometimes, having to carry enough for both.

life hasn’t been particularly easy. but it has been worth. if only for the weekends we spend together.

sara tomovic. originally from the balkans, currently living in south east asia. discovering and documenting the differences of the west and east in hong kong; hoping to become a full-time writer one day.

blog: enjoythewait.org
instagram: pereguinn
twitter: pereguinn
website: saratomovic.com

friday quote

August 8, 2014

It’s not that we spend five days looking forward to just two. It’s that most people do what they enjoy most on those two days. Imagine living a life where everyday are your Saturdays and Sundays. Make everyday your weekend. Make everyday a play-day…
- James A. Murphy

Music, alcohol, nature and friends

August 3, 2014

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Sadly, my big summer event “Fuji Rock Festival” is gone.
It was a beautiful sunny weekend than usual Fuji Rock.
I had really lovely weekend.

I have been this festival for 10 years, spending time there is special for me.
Forget about usual days.
Just feel music from wake up to fall asleep.
Enjoy camping and nature, walking a lot.
Bump to meet friends a lot and Kanpai (cheers) a lot.
Very happy weekend.

There were many great gigs I saw but I want to share one performance for you,
Which was “Nada soso” performance by Japanese band “BEGIN” with a fula dancer “Aureana Tseu”.

Nada soso is very popular song in Japan means “can’t help to shed my tears”.
It’s OKINAWA song so written by OKINAWA dialect. OKINAWA is westernmost city of JAPAN.

I am not special fan of BEGIN but this performance moved me.
Aureana’s fula was a dance that represents the emotion itself.
Tears were falling down before I noticed.
That’s why I love live performance.

I couldn’t take picture of this performance (because I was busy crying, haha),
so this picture was another stage’s one, beautiful sunset.
Can’t wait for next year’s Fuji Rock.

—About Fuji Rock—-
Fuji Rock Festival is the biggest music festival in Japan.
It is held in Naeba Ski Resort, high up in the mountains, very beautiful nature.
And it is famous for the cleanest and safest music festivals in the world.
The festival has a zero rubbish policy. We have to divide into five categories of rubbish, because of being recycled.

Tomoko Niimi works in TOKYO but her heart is on KYOTO ancient city of JAPAN.
Romanticist, loves music, movie, cats and dogs, alcohol and delicious food.

Follow Tomoko on instagram: niinii212

friday quote

August 1, 2014

I used to have to do readings in church, and it was terrifying. I would never have my glasses. The words are printed so small even Superman would be nervous. And you’re reading from the Bible. It’s not like you can just make something up and improvise. “A reading from the letter of Saint Paul to the Corinthians. Uhhh. Dear Corinthians, … How was your weekend? Sure is hot here. Uh, tell Jesus ‘Hey.’ This is the word of the Lord.
― Jim Gaffigan

friday quote

July 25, 2014

..invite a person to a log cabin in the woods for a weekend. The true personality emerges every time.
― Anne LaBastille, Woodswoman I: Living Alone in the Adirondack Wilderness

childhood Sunday mornings

July 20, 2014

she runs down the stairs, the worn wood of the steps shining in the sunlight coming in through the hallway windows. downstairs, she barely manages to push open the heavy gate that separates the cool darkness of the alley from the heat outside. the smell of dust and cement and hot stone hits her. it’s early morning and the streets are quiet. every so often, the tram screeches as it struggles along its rails cutting through the neighbourhood in an enormous s-shape. the church bells will call for mass soon, even though she has never seen anyone go there or knows what the inside of a church looks like or what it’s good for.

she skips along the street, past the little shop that never sells anything except for bread and apples and onions and beer. it’s so hot, it feels like she is swimming through air, and stepping from shade into sun into shade into sun like crossing countries and like you are a different person depending on which side you’re on. she visits all her favourite places. the salon where her mother gets her hair done, now closed and deserted. the big metal garbage bins lined up in a way so that she can walk behind them and secretly overtake old people that never look at anything but their feet or to see if you are dressed properly anyway. the bakery where she sometimes buys a whole loaf of bread all for herself. the other bakery that sometimes sells cake.

she stops at the main road that separates her neighbourhood from the one where her grandmother lives. she could walk along the railway tracks or zigzag through the apartment blocks past where her school teacher with the parakeet lives. or she could go to the factory where her mother works, the road leading up to it paved in cobble stones so big and uneven that crossing it always feels like wading through a mountain river and that the trucks delivering fabrics and sewing cotton bop around like apples in a bowl.

from the factory, she takes her secret trail through the wood back to the right side of the train tracks. the wood is only three or four rows of trees deep, but if you know how you can walk the length of four or five blocks in it without anyone noticing you. there are empty beer bottles and cigarette butts and a broken chair and her mother says that the people who put them there are bad, but she has never seen anyone who looks bad and she is quicker than them anyways. she passes another church, its doors locked and the windows barred. but the clock at the top of the tower is working and her mother has taught her to see there what time it is so that she doesn’t have to ask anyone and if she does it can only be women.

back home, she pushes the heavy gate open again. it’s too early for lunch. coming from the bright sunlight into the dimness of the hall, everything is suddenly covered in a glossy black and the walls around her seem to move. it smells like coal and wet earth and mouldy stones and she twirls around, letting herself fall from wall to wall until her eyes have adjusted to the darkness and the ground is standing still again. it feels like what being in a spaceship must be like so she runs out again, blinks into the sun for a few seconds and comes back to feel the waves of the glossy blackness another time. the coldness of the alley smells different than the coldness of the cellar and different from the heat of the street, and she wonders what the heat up in the attic will smell like. she is not allowed to go there. the roof beams are rotten and her mother tells her that she will fall through the ceiling if she does, but if you know how you can do it and everything will be fine. there are abandoned storage rooms plastered in old newspapers that you can peel off in long strips, and sometimes she manages to get a whole page off without tearing it to pieces. they are as old as the building and therefore almost as important as things in museums and her grandmother has taught her to read the old font and she sometimes pictures herself reading these newspapers on the tram or at the doctor’s office impressing everyone.

above the storage rooms is the real attic with loose wooden boards that bounce when you step on them. it smells like wood chips and furniture polish and bakelite and walking around there you have to be quiet. she knows that if the old caretaker catches her up here, he’s going to tell her mother. and even though her mother doesn’t like him and says that one shouldn’t feed beer and chocolate to one’s dog, she would still listen to him and agree with him on everything else. and thinking about trouble and because she can’t see the church tower’s clock from the attic and doesn’t want to be late for Sunday lunch, she decides to go home, down the stairs, the worn wood of the steps shining in the sunlight coming in through the hallway windows.

Petra Zehner is a graphic designer, photographer and writer living somewhere between England and Malaysia. She is single, tends to overthink, travels a lot and is trying to figure out how to make a living as a global nomad.

blog www.talulaah.com
Instagram pe.zehner
website www.petrazehner.com