MY KARMA IS DEFINITELY OUTA WHACK

Can u believe it is 2:45 am and I am blogging (slowly) as it seems - having just fully got use of rt arm back post fracture that I have fractured my left wrist. I slipped near a swimming pool on Xmas day and put hand ou to save self (for those of u who don't know, it was over 41 degrees that day - Celsius). Any hoo didn't feel too much pain (see recipe for toxic alcoholic concoction further on) and next day (Boxing) was 45!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and wrist was a bi tender bu I managed to move my front fence boundary to a more sensible position, so thought, yeah OK a few aches and pains are par for course. By the way, this is what my poor little white climber looked like yesterday:

By last night it was fairly painful and I think I have slept about 3 winks with the excruciating throb of the bastard, Have taken 2 lots of morphine, so if this goes a bit weirdo, u will know y. Hasn't helped much,tho, so trying 2 distract brain by writing this. I must be the unluckiest cow in the universe!!!! Am waiting 4 decent hour to get someone to take me 2 hospital. Course, it may not be broken (let us hope) but I am pretty well acquainted with th nature of this particular beast by now with my crappy old bones.

OK here followeth my recipe for a most addicive and intoxicating cocktail thingy that has become a fam tradition for us at Xmas. Those in the northern hemisphere might orefer to try it in summer as it is best suited then.

MIDGES TOXIC TROPPO CHAMPERS

Take 1 large mango and "moosh" up the flesh (no need to blend if it is suitably ripe & my son now has possession of my Bamix anyway)

Add the pulp of 4 large passionfruit (brag, brag, mine were from my groaning vine) but u could sub tinned, bottled etc.

Stir thru thoroughly a miniature bottle of Grand Marnier (this will make about 24 ice cubes, enuf for 2 bottles of bubbly, but my alchoholic kids felt mor GM would not go astray.

Put into ice cube trays and freeze minimum 24 hrs. This yr, just 4 change & to add festive je ne sais quoi, I carefully spooned a few cranberries on top of each cube b4 freezing. (Yummo!!)

Serve in flutes topped with well chilled bubbly of choice - I use Ricciadone because it ha high alchohol content and it is sweet, but have tasted it with a Brut and even a flat Chardy - not bad, bu I prefer the Ricci as I have a sweet tooth even tho it is a bit unpatriotic of me and I avoid French Champagne on principle since they got all thing about the branding.

Last time Iposted that I woul give instructions 4 the photos in that entry, but honestly my one handed efforts have about hit the limit! Iwill get there,tho - have nay forgot! In the meantime, here is some more self indulgent bragging;

Youngest grandson, Kieran. K with mummy Nat and below, my fave boy, Dylan.

Finally, tho I cannot participate Arlee has an exciting sounding swapsie type project (wish I could). Here is the link: http://arleebarr.squarespace.com/designjournal/

BITS AND BOBS

Quick note and last pre Xmas, so much too do, so little time. As promised to Arlee:

Multi fractured arm is so much better and having truckloads of physio - acourse not doing excercixes and lying bout it to physio! Also doing way more than sposed to, to here is sampling of my play time results of late:

All of these had captions in Picasa bu t I don't hink they r uploading, so don't know wot I am doing wrong. Will post tomorro, promise and describe the products also will redo photo editing as I must have forgottent to save changes, and these look like th origs. Gettin sore tho now. TTFN

SILLY OLD ME

doing this with l hand as broke r one, so will b out of action awhile. too difficlt 2 write this way & so cross w me frustrated etc love 2 all!!!!!!!!!!!!!hppy xmas

SAMPLING AND SORTING

My CSI PSIs winged their way out my front door to Canada yesterday. My brain is tumbling around the most recent discussions about the nature of art - especially textile art , and clutter/stash sorting. I think I need to order my thoughts first before commiting to this blog. Don't you find that everyone's thoughts, ideas and input on both these topics is valid to some extent, raises points you hadn't considered yourself and you need time to absorb, sort, rationlise and question. I guess everything boils down to pure problem solving and that's probably the main problem with the amount of information available to us today via the Internet. I find that there are so many people with so many interesting things to say and fabulous ideas to explore that I spend wa-aa-aa-y to much time scouting round the web every morning tasting honey here and there.

CSI PSIs

I have been dying to post some kind of pics and, having to await the return of my camera's battery recharger, have had to resort to scanning this. It is a taster of the CSI PSI swap I am involved with at the moment - if you are reading this and haven't a clue check out: Arlee's notes at Albedo Design (see link on this page). Anyway, this is my collection of 54 little PSIs ready to separate and finish off:

(This was written yesterday, but the Blogger was refusing to upload pics, so now I can show you a sample of a completed PSI.)
I am going to provide full explanation of techniques and how tos together with the meaning of the things when I finish and post them off to Arlee. It really has not helped that I keep thinking it is a week earlier than it is. I have no reason to be aware of the day, so that is not unusual for me.
Other than that, I am working hard on the bonbonnierre for Nat's wedding - I have to make 100, so have given myself a weekly quota of 10 and am already behind! Mainly because I cannot find the right shade of green lining silk and big son having my car doesn't help matters! I am walking everywhere and my feet are suffering. We have also been doing lots of other wedding things like checking out the venue, choosing bridesmaids dresses, flowers and all those other joy things one has to arrange well in advance. It's hard when you've got two littlies with you who don't understand or particularly enjoy what you're doing!

INTERESTING POSTS IN PIPELINE

PROMISE PROMISE PROMISE that a decent entry is coming. Thing is, I find just words without pictures not wholly appealing - hence awaiting son to get his shit together and unpack his suitcase to give me my camera back. Otherwise life goes on, warmer and sunnier every day (32 by tomorrow) and time to pull off the leccie blankie and haul out the cotton blanket. Also in desperate need of new shorts to cover the hideous birthmark on my thigh - gonna be tricky given this season's penchant for shorts barely covering the crotch!!

PRESENTING TODAY'S LETTER - "C"

Warning!! Small bitch of the day about to happen! Went shopping with my Nat and the boy yesterday - she requiring a wedding gift (those two go to more weddings than a celebrant) plus something to wear for same (tricky 'cos she's still breastfeeding, hasn't lost her baby weight and Spring is a peculiar time of year). Anyhooooo at the point where Dylan was demanding food and drink, Nat was starving (in the way only a feeding mum can be) and Kieran was tired and grizzly and needed a bit of cuddling off to sleep. Nat goes to order our coffees, drinks and food, meantime I am scanning the cafe for a couple of seats - the place was jam-packed due to school holidays and mid-season's sales (PS WHAT THE HELL ARE THEY ABOUT?), whilst juggling Dylan's stroller, wriggling Kieran and several "diggers" (toy trucks). I spot the only vacancy is two seats on a banquette arrangement around one table, but there is a woman and her daughter at the table. Or, rather, sprawled at the table. The woman was, I guess, mid to late thirties, small, dark and well dressed and the girl, seated opposite her (obviously her daughter) was about 9 or 10. Both were plonked fair in the middle of each set of benches and had generously spread their shopping all over the remaining space - HAH! did not fool me for one moment - I knew spare seating when I saw it. So I struggle up to the woman who proceeds to ignore me staring at her from a distance of maybe a meter, while continuing her conversation with her little brat, sorry daughter. Finally she looks at me, so I say in my nicest voice, excuse me, is anyone else going to be sitting with you? She sneers back that there is no one there at the moment and I shoot back that yes, I can see that (I am not blind). I did not say the last thing of course, after all it is a rather hoi poloi type of place and I was trying my best to be pleasant. Oh I reply, would it be OK if my daughter and I share this table with you? She looks at me as if I was something slimy and rather unpleasant that had just slithered from underneath her shoe. We-e-ll, she responds, you can have the table when we are finished. Now, their order has not even arrived at the table so obviously the time frame we are discussing here is at least another 15 minutes. Like most Australians, I admit that I am prone to rather too much swearing from time to time, however there is one word that I loathe and refuse to let past my lips and I am sure everyone knows it - it starts with the letter C. That was the word that popped straight into my head. Luckily, that's where it stayed. I just flounced off saying "Please don't worry about putting yourself out, we'll find somewhere else.", thinking - it's not worth letting her know how selfish and what a bitch she is and that she has no legal right to refuse to let us sit at the table, we because if we ended up sitting with her you could just imagine how pleasant that would have been. We immediately found a lovely young chap with his little girl who waved us over to his table. I noticed that the daughter was wandering around the cafe about 30 minutes later until she spotted us and then went back to her mum to report and they left. Obviously had been sent to let us know we were permitted occupancy of madam's table. I felt like calling the girl over and telling her to tell her cow of a mother to shove the table where the sun don't shine. That's so much better - I have vented. I told Nat we need to get the tattoos on our foreheads removed (you know, the ones that say "Please ignore/be unpleasant to me. I am a nice person and I won't make a big scene.") This was after she had been ignored for 20 minutes by shop staff while buying the gift.

ARTISTIC DILEMMAS

Where do you draw that line in the sand?? Yesterday seemed like an eternal struggle for me with that damned entry in the quilt comp. It seemed the thing had taken on demonic possession and refused to co-operate with me at every turn. Everything I tried with it turned out awful - I could not get things to sit straight, or alternately look artistically crooked and intentional, every colour or texture or whatever I tried looked wrong, wrong WRONG. Then, when I looked at the whole thing at the end of the day, I decided that it was NOTHING like what I had in mind that the elements did not work as a whole and try as I might I could not come up with a way to change it that a.) would work, b.) would comply with the competition rules and c.) would not take endless hours of work and/or unpicking. I almost burst into tears and wanted to take it outside and set fire to it. Instead, I went to the local hardware megastore and, being a public holiday blessed with the most glorious weather, struck every man and his dog there (which made me feel better strangely - as if I was being given the cosmic message that outdoor work was what was really intended for me that day). I purchased some bits of trellis for the climbing stuff like my passionfruit vine that is threatening to encroach the entire world, like the others that have also shot off with a magnificent burst of spring enthusiasm. I really hate when they need to be cut back so I decided to simply extend the support for some of them, including the bright ruby climbing pelargonium that is inching across my back lawn at the moment. Also got several punnets of petunias, encouraged by the "bushes" that have developed from last year's lot and a trailing snapdragon that I haven't seen before and some penstemons that I have always wanted to try.
Back to the horror of the quilt. I know this is definitely not a new thought, but I really think it's time to say, quite firmly, to myself STOP - it ain't never gonna work and you hate it therefore you are not going to do your best with it. Then, I read the rules again and noticed that they want not only a photo of the front, but the back as well and that was truly the last straw for me. I don't know about everybody else, but I rarely if ever pay any attention to the back (which I know breaks the cardinal rule of traditional quilting where the back must look as good as the front.) Now, given that the front of my quilt looks like hell in a handbag, can you imagine what the back looks like?? So, rather than distress myself any more and feel obligated to at least finish the bastard, hoping some miracle will occur and it will suddenly transform itself into the most amazing creation, it will be stopped immediately. I have decided that I am going to follow the lead of Arlee and , instead of stressing about all the UFOs I keep creating, I am going to relabel them "Components for Future Use". In fact, I might even cut out the good bits and just keep those. Whatever I do, I am definitely going to spend today being a lot more free flowing and playful. If anyone feels like letting me know about any brilliant ideas they have for dealing with unco-operative projects, please share!!!

PLOUGHING THROUGH

I feel quite remiss, having not blogged for a few days. The most frustrating thing is not having my camera at hand to include pics of what I have been up to - not that it is very much. Mainly I have been working on my entry for a competition. I feel most ambivalent about the piece (camera returns to Oz shores tomorrow, fingers crossed) and will post pic ASAP. What I was trying to achieve was ridiculous, when I think about it. I tried to blend an art quilt (of a type) with smatterings of traditional styles, whilst still complying with the competition rules. Trouble is, those sorts of things end up being a huge excercise in compromise and I doubt the result is a "winner" in anyone's eyes. Of course, it may well be that I am just fed up with the sight of the damned thing and in other circumstances it would have definintely become another UFO. Competition closes in a few days, so I have to get my shit together - luckily all that's left is to quilt the thing (maybe something magical will happen in that process), measure it finally _ God let's hope it finally meets the dimensions requirements because that bit has taken me the most time - every single time I measure it I get a different answer and I am definitely not good at maths. I just want to move on to another more exciting project - or several of the thousands currently backing up in my brain.
Being Spring and delightful, I have also spent copious amounts of time in the garden - a necessary pleasure because pretty soon it gets far too damned hot to venture outdoors and I am determined not to get a tanned face this year (although the mirror tells me it's too late). Yes, it looks healthy and so on, but I am very sick of that older Australian ritual of having little bits of one's body burnt, frozen or cut off every time I see the doctor. Being a fair skinned, blonde haired blue eyed person with eyelashes and brows so fair they look invisible without makeup, and of Irish/ English extraction - I have no business even walking out the back door without sunscreen. Trouble is, as a Baby Boomer, I was encouraged to run around naked in the sun as a toddler by my mother who had a morbid fear about rickets. Apprarently rickets was rife in England post-war because the sun hardly ever shines there anyway and everyone had spent so much time inside due to the bombs. Common sense would tell you that the fact you can get about 165 times your daily requirement of Vitamin D by walking to your mailbox in Oz - but the powers that were back then had little understanding about such things.
MUst away to the sewing machine - hoping like hell to finish the competition entry today.

MUCH ADO FOR NOTHING

Update on the mystery intruder! The police finally showed up after a couple of days and only when the home owner of the house broken into (only thing taken was a digital camera) used his contacts in senior management at the local station. When the uniformed officer arrived (he was really quite cute too) I was trying in vain to get Dylan to sleep. He questionned me quite closely - description, behaviour and so on. Then I got a huge lecture about security and keeping doors locked and blah blah. The final straw was when he strongly urged me to make sure I call the police IMMEDIATELY if another person, or the same weirdo, started hanging around. I just raised one eyebrow and asked him if he enjoyed being ironical. He mumbled that of course someone would come straight away if they could, but that was not always possible - reassuring isn't it - especially as the large local station is about 500 metres away from my house!!!!!!!!!

Spent whole weekend in a frenzy of cleaning up (must be Spring) - and I mean REALLY cleaning up. I even dusted and cleaned all the photos and frames, electric outlets, light switches, door frames. I chucked out in a ruthless frenzy all the garbage bags full of awful scraps (although I admit I kept spotting the odd one or two and thought - gosh that looks OK, I could do something with that - but NO, I was firm with myself). It was an ideal opportunity as the weather was great and our council is having a bulk refuse pick up this week from the verge. Then I tore into the garden, hacking into the dog bane that has gone berserk and pongs like garlic, cleaned and swept all the paving areas and to break the camel's back - attacked the horror of the storage shed and chucked all the old tins of house paint, rusted tools and bits of God knows what. I could barely move last night and my poor old broken ribs were moaning at me. But, boy - do I feel virtuous today - I figure that lets me off housework for at least a month. Also it's pissing down with rain today, so the timing was just right.

I am excited to get going on Arlee's PSI exchange and Thanks so much, babe for organizing it. Loving that theme - it's right up the alley of a person like me with a macabre sense of humour. Since I have no camera for about another week (unless idiot brain loses it in Munich) I will break this up by including a photo of my three kids - taken a few years ago, but the only recent one I have of them together. Of course, couldn't find the one I wanted, but here's my boy Steve on the left at Nat's engagement party (she's very pregnant on the left). He now dies his hair black because he hates it blonde. My girls are Nat on left without eyes (sorry, cut them off) and her cloned sister Taz on the right.

NASTY BUSINESS

I will share about those little boots for y'all that is interested. I believe the pattern is on the Martha Stewart website and the original was made with felt. I used fleecy and fake fur fabrics instead and handstitched a blanket stitch edge around the outside with some yarn. I will put the link in here once I have checked that my memory is correct: http://www.marthastewart.com/portal/site/mslo/menuitem.3a0656639de62ad593598e10d373a0a0/?vgnextoid=d74cf3fb453b1110VgnVCM1000003d370a0aRCRD&autonomy_kw=felt%20baby%20boots&rsc=ns2006_m22 (Not so bad for an old lady!)

There will be no photos for a while as my giant son borrowed my camera, much to my trepidation. Hence have been very teary deary - especially after yesterday. Remember my strangeness in the night with the handprint on my mirror? Prior to that the weirdo in my kitchen - who, by the by, reappeared a couple of weeks ago "sheltering" in my carport from the pelting rain and I shocked the life out of myself by getting quite angry at him and telling him to get off my property or I would call the police. Luckily he did!
Well, yesterday my next door neighbour knocked on my door to let me know that she had just spotted a bloke go into our communal bin area (I live in a quadruplex setup, but the homes are separate - no common walls), climb up on a bin, look furtively around and jump over the wall into the garage of the house directly in front of her (owners were out). This was about 2p.m. She is a young mum about same age as my Nat (they are close friends) with two littlies same age as my grandsons (I asked them once if they actually rang each other up to see if they were going to have sex that night because the kids are only days apart). Nat thinks I am a disgusting old woman. I digress. Without really thinking of the consequences, we marched up the driveway and she called out the name of the man who lives in the house. Oh, PS he had left his red bicycle resting on the wall. He came out of the house via the sliding glass door and said that Pete (the homeowner) was out, but would be back in a couple of minutes. She asked who he was and what he was doing there and he said Mike (yeah, sure) and he had come to do a few jobs for Pete, but he had forgotten to leave a key out. All seemed very suss to us, as usually this older couple have the same handyman all the time, plus this dude only had a backpack. So I said quite loudly that we would see if our other male neighbour was home and if he had Pete's mobile number so we could check. We went to the other neighbour, but the husband was not home, so we are standing out in the sunny driveway telling his pregnant wife the story, when the dude comes riding up the driveway and out the gate. We asked where he was going and he said we were a bunch of fucking busybodies and he was just going to buy a soft drink at the shop. Then he proceeded off in the wrong direction and my neighbour called after him that we were calling the cops. He told us to go fucking right ahead and do that - which we did. Needless to say, the cops still have not bothered to turn up and it has now been almost a day. The old couple did not get home til quite late and I only managed to catch her this morning to fill her in (much to her horror). I also rang my husband to find out what the situation was re the money for the security improvements and told him what had happened. He said "Well, you'll just have to be careful. I have only just put in the application." He has had it for 2 weeks. Thank you so much - typically unhelpful I might add. I used to be the one who checked out the bumps in the night and once even surprised an intruder hiding in our backyard!! Luckily I am a pretty aggro person when I get shocked like that. Any way, I am now going to go do some lovely gardening with my two babies coming over and try to not obsess - but I have to admit it has made me a total nervous wreck!

THE SWEETEST THINGS

These are some cute little boots I had made for my newest grandson, Kieran. I had to put a little hidden extra stitch in as he kept kicking them off and soon it will be too warm for him to wear them! Plus he already has ginormous feet - typical Aussie plates.

This entry might be a tad baby oriented, but who cares - not me. I had Dylan yesterday and it struck me how imaginative and freely exploring is the mind of a child ( of 2 and a half). He keeps a gazillion trucks at my house and had decided to move all of them outside onto the paved area, plus all the stupid plastic trees that don't stand up properly, the cardboard roads that don't fit so well, the tiny fence areas that also fall over. Anyway, having arranged his little "site", he demanded that "Midgie get down and play with the trucks" and of course no excuse like "Midgie is old and can't get down there" was acceptable. So there I am in my extremely attractive and hideously expensive compression stockings (long story) kneeling on my arthritic knees and moving the trucks around. He, of course, knows the names of all of them - dump trucks, garbage trucks, tractors, forklifts, graders, petrol tankers, concrete mixers, etc, etc. So I am doing boring stuff like backing them around the trees and driving them to the parking lot. He, on the other hand, is putting the tiny concrete mixer onto the forklift tray and lifting it up to the top of the crane, where it sits. I don't need to say anything else, except there's a lesson for us all in this.

Feeling very anxious today as my son is flying out to Munich for the Beer Festival. Everyone says don't worry, he's a big boy (25) and my response is - don't forget I went there myself at much the same age and that's probably worrying me even more. I admit I get a bit funny when it comes to my son and my grandsons - probably because my first son was taken from me. I have horrible visions of kidnapping, abuse, death, bashings and so on that keep forcing their way into my head. I will be much relieved for many reasons when he gets back home.

THE BIG BLACK MONSTER

The big black monster leapt out from around the corner of my house on Saturday, hence I have done nothing but fight the urge to give in to the beast for three and a half days now. I think I am emerging cautiously. Thank God it's Spring and the days are getting longer and warmer. I have concentrated, instead on the forthcoming wedding arrangements for my daughter and minding my grandbabies, hoping that I can at least rediscover joy in those glorious things.

UNNECESSARY RUDENESS

Before we went shopping yesterday, I did a quick couple of experiments. For the blueish green one, I took a nappy liner and wetted it. Then i put random drops of that refill ink for the printer on it, added a sprinkle of salt crystals and sprayed the whole lot with more water. By the time I got home, it had attained this quite funky look and I am going to try a few rusted bits on there (of which there are many in my shed). For the hessian, first I sprayed it with this old can of gold paint from the shed that turned out too subtle to be seen. then I took some gold leaf paint and freehanded some leaf shapes. (Put glasses on afterwards and read this on the bottle: Warning: Cancer agent based on experimental data. Oh joy!! Then I riffled thru my makeup and found some old eyeshadows and blushes I have never used, so rubbed them into the hessian with baby wipes. So far, so good.
The real purpose of my blog this morning is to have a right royal bitch about what happened to me yesterday. Nat had some birthday money from her dad and wanted to buy some loose tops as she is still feeding baby Kieran and has not lost all her baby weight. So we go to this rather flash shopping mall and there is a store there that sells very up to the minute stuff (made in Asia) and incredibly cheap. She picks out about a million tops to try on, while I am wandering around with an eye on Dylan and trying to resist all the amazing bargains. (I didn't - ended up with a pair of shoes in the new wedge toe bright blue, a really long but light sweater in cobalt blue and another purple, grey and blue top and a large silver bag. Each item cost about $10). So, little Miss Typical Virgo is in the change room trying to find perfection in all these articles, meanwhile I am attempting to try the shoes on. Took off my boots and Dylan wanted his off too, so he could try mine on and then the pairs I was rejecting as well. At that time, bubs decides to cry in the stroller because he is starving, so I picked him up and soothed him as Dylan disappears into the display window to remove the shoes off the manequin. Realising that it was physically impossible for me to put on and rezip my boots and put Dylans back on without sitting down, I scanned around and found the only seat in the store - a semi-circular couch thing occupied by an old lady and a little girl of about 8. Right, I thought, surely that little girl could give me her seat for a couple of minutes while I juggle all these shoes. So battle up there with the stroller full of purchases, boots and shoes, Dylan and bub in my arms. I asked little girl very nicely if she would mind letting me sit for a few moments while I put my boots on. Ungraciously she got up and I sat. Meanwhile Dylan walked into all the bags that the old lady had at her feet, by accident. You could not see what was inside the bags, but she said "Oh don't do that, there are plants in there." Could not help it, so I said "Sorry, he's only 2 and obviously couldn't see the plants." She hrrrmphed. Then the old bitch said to the little girl "You're not feeling well are you sweetie, maybe you could squeeze in next to me." L G shook her head and looked longingly at my position. I said (very slowly and calmly) "Obviously she's well enough to come shopping. Anyway, like I said, I just want to get my shoes on and I am nearly done so she can have her seat back. I'll just walk around with this very hungry baby and manage this energetic two year old whilst looking after the stroller and all these parcels. I know appearances can be deceptive but I will be fine with my fractured vertebrae, newly broken ribs, the two vertebrae in the throes of crumbling and all the old breaks from the 30 broken ribs I have had in the last 3 years." And I got up and walked away. I heard the old bat say to her friend "I thought she was their mother." Yes, I do get that quite a bit and my poor daughter gets asked to show ID to buy scratchies (you have to be 16!!!), so we are a youngish looking lot. Nevertheless, I remember many a time being heavily pregnant and carrying a toddler on public transport where no one gave up their seat. And the really sad part about this? I hate to criticize my own sex, but it is ALWAYS women that behave so badly in my experience. That is off my chest now, I feel better.

SPEAKING BRIEFLY

Short and sweet today. Off shopping with my Nat and the babies. I love doing that with her and even tho I have no money I am sure I can manage a way to splash my credit card out on some foolishness or other (the fools recently gave me an automatic limit increase!!).

Distractions from Tasks on Hand!!

Ta- daaaa! The little dresses are all finished. Now I have to put them in their little windows. I have made them some little hangers as well. Yesterday was SUCH beautiful weather (23 degrees) that I could not
justify spending time inside. Instead, went for long walks, after spending far too much time on the computer roaming around in cyberspace checking out other blogs so I can get me a list of ones I love. Wow - there is so much talent out there.

I love walking around thinking about my work. So many ideas come and I probably should carry a notebook. Then I could be sketching all the wild fresias in the parks and people's lawns. Or jotting down plans for my bottlesbrush on hessian wallhanging. Instead, I just wander along in a dream, as per usual. Also, I had to stop into the local charity shop to buy a belt as my jeans kept falling down on my walk (how embarassing). Sadly, I am rather boy shaped and lack hips. My kids have occasionally walked in on me with said jeans around my ankles because I have been cooking or something and have just let them fall. I am a constant source of embarassment to them - I know that. They frequently threaten to have me put down if I get any more eccentric. That reminds me, I went up to the local shopping centre on Saturday, intending to buy some fairy lights (plain) for my little lanterns. Of course, I am a month too early as the shop there that sells all kinds of really, really cheap crap only had the lovely REALLY tacky stuff leftover from last year. I find, though that this kind of shop is such a nasty temptatation if you really riffle thru them you can come across some amazing little (tacky) treasures. So, I came home with a gorgeous battery operated lava lamp (for my grandson I keep saying, but no one believes me), a cellotape dispenser (with 3 rolls of cello), a set of plastic coasters in various bright colours that look like Mr Men people made out of jelly and they join into a circle by linking hands jigsaw style and finally a great umbrella with photo images of a leopard family. All this for less than $20!!!!!!!!!!! If anyone can answer these totally unrelated questions for me, I would be most grateful. 1. Buying fabric online - how reliable? what is the quality like? I am thinking about silk mainly. 2. Buying secondhand books from Amazon? Has anyone had any experience and would you recommend it?

Strangeness in the Night

WHY IS THERE A HANDPRINT ON MY BATHROOM MIRROR?? I saw it there this morning when I got up. At first I thought that I had put it there myself and racked my brains for when and why the hell I would have done that. Perhaps (and this is still an option) I got up in the night and put it there whilst still asleep???? Stupidly, I put my own hand on top of it to see if it was the same size - BUT, here's the really scary bit, it was bigger than mine and also I had to reach a bit to put my hand up there. Apart from the dog (and it sure don't look like one of hers!), I live alone, so I am just about crying with scaredness this morning. I know that I left my sliding door screen unlocked because I was getting sick of the dog barking at 2 a.m. to go out for a pee, so I am silly for doing that. I know when I tell my great big huge hulk of a son, he is going to get very cross about that. What concerns me is that I have had a weirdo intruder a couple of times about 6 weeks ago (same dude each time). I just felt that he was not the full quid, you know, a shovel short of a load. Either that or he was on some serious drugs. Young (everyone is to me), filthy dirty and shabby clothes, tall and rangy with dark curly hair. I never bothered to report it to the cops because I hardly felt they were going to put out a special BOLO, particularly as he left when I demanded he do so - informing him that the dog was old, unpredictable and inclined to be vicious.

The other thing going on in my house has more obvious

explanations. I know what those little lanterns have

been doing at night!

Dirty little buggers.

I had such fun yesterday doing some stuff for the quilt I am going to enter in the competition. I used to love that story about the Shoemaker and the Elves and it so reminded me of that! The really great thing about making these 5" by 3" clothes is that they aren't ever going to be worn and don't have to fit any body parts, so a hell of a lot of cheating can go on (e.g. just ironing the little shoulder straps, instead of sewing them which I tried but the machine kept eating them). There's also an awful lot of swears flying through the air, but over all great fun! I have sketched out six "frocks" so far and need nine and am so encouraged by the relative easiness of the task that I am going to lash out on a fashion mag this morning and find smore.

SENILITY

I made up some little lantern covers for the fairy lights. Currently they look a bit like witches hats, but cute!!! This looks like having potential, but I am going to shelve the nappy thing for a while, it just aint right. I will mull upon it.

Also worked like a veritable demon on Nat's quilt and it is now fully pieced on top with an edging ready to attach. (I wanted to see how it would go, cos it really did need at least a tiny dab of red in there somewhere.) It's actually black and white, but the colour is kinda bluish grey and try as I could, I was unable to fix it with Picasa - making it b&w just eliminates the red touches. It is also humungous, over 6 feet long and 5 and a half wide. It is going to be a right bastard to quilt. Therefore mostly it is going to be very simply in the ditch, with some free motion on the plain borders if I get the energy.

We had a wedding meeting of the parents last night, mainly to discuss the financials. (Don't know why I was there, I am definitely not financial, but I have promised Nat I will pay for her dress with some of the super money I should get soon.) Every time I see my husband, I am convinced that he is getting more and more senile. He asked Nat if they HAD SET A DATE yet?????????

Du-u-u-u-uh!That was only done last Christmas and, as she pointed out, every single time he has spoken to her since then, he has asked the same question and been given the same answer. It's not a difficult date to remember - 26 April, the day after our Anzac Day public holiday. I am so glad he and I are apart, I remember how much it used to annoy me that he was either never paying attention or definitely senile and I probably would have put a meataxe thru his head by now.

I have to stop as I feel myself entering dangerous territory and already I have a migraine looming large. Besides, to enumerate his many problems is counterproductive, not my problem any more and would take me all day (make that all year).

STUPIDITY

Here's something that is not a good idea. Work non-stop on a project all day long, skip all meals and breaks and forget even to smoke, and when every fiber of your body is screeching at you to just stop - just clench your teeth tightly and tell yourself that your age is just a state of mind and, yes you can still work well into the night.

WHAT TO ACHIEVE THRU A PROCESS OF NEGLECT

Got to have my own car for a whole day yesterday!!!!! Consequently, had to flit all over the joint like a crazed fly. Still managed to spend an obscene amount of money that I don't have (that credit card aint never gonna go down) on yet more stash. My excuse is that I want to enter a quilt competition at the store I bought from. I have never done so before, as I lack self confidence, but the prize is a trip to Houston for the International Quilt Festival and I have been yearning to visit the States since forever. Not sure how this will go, as I am definitely planning an arty quilt and this seems like a pretty traditional organization, but the comp rules could not be more open with no "theme" or stuff. I don't care. I have got an idea and I want to run with it anyway, plus I did get some really interesting stuff, including hessian that I am going to use as a simple painted background for my bottlebrushes when I get round to them.

Outcomes of experimentation with the nappies is less than thrilling. Made up a new lot the day afore yesterday, using lots less water and I ripped up and threw in all the papery bits of the nappy. It still has not set either. I am having more promising results with painting the first lot of goop onto the chicken bags. First coat seemed to dry, so I put another one on last night. I might try another bag with the thicker lot and see how that comes out. I got more thread to finish my vase cover and I did a bit more work on Nat's quilt yesterday. It is almost ready for assemblage so I can give you a photo. I also had to fit in a couple of chores for Luv over the weekend - remaking a "bargain" dressing gown she got (a black fleecy job with leopard print collar and cuffs) - WHAT A NIGHTMARE, plus I made her three pillowslips for an odd shaped cushion for her son. A person is coming to her house today who helps organize the clutter in people's homes. That will be a fascinating outcome, because I have really never seen anyone with so much extraneous STUFF. She even keeps tins of mushy peas in her pantry, because a neighbour of hers feeds them to her family and once she ran out and asked Luv if she happened to have any (that's rather like asking anyone if they happen to have a spare set of frog's braces). Since then, she's always stocked them - Christ knows where she buys them???????

I decided (it's later today, had to sing "Happy Day" to my Nat with cake) to put the thicker goop on the bag and paint on it, added some glitter and threw some salt crystals in for good measure:

Hmmmmmmm???? Will look at it tomorra. Too buggered now, having spent a saltmine of a day chained to the sewing machine, determined to get thru the bulk of Nat's quilt before I start any more new experiments or fun stuff like that (I call it my penance.)

Now, I am not bragging - actually, yes I am bragging - get an eyeful of my petunias that I planted in the garden 12 months ago. I have no idea what the secret is. Perth has about the crappiest soil in the world, it's little more than beach sand. The only "special" thing I do to them is to obsessively pluck of the deadies when I go outside for a smoke. Which is often. Back to the saltmines.

ALL ABOUT THE PROCESS, NOT THE VOMIT - SORRY, PRODUCT

Rightio then! Arlee, yes that is me - the blonde bimbo. The female one anyway. I decided I should put a photo of me on my site and I did. It is a wee bit old and shows me with shorter and artificially darker hair but still the same maniacal grin. It was, I believe, Christmas Day 2005. I have resisted the temptation to clean/dispose of my ironing board cover, but have had quite a few thoughts about combining that effect and the chicken bag musings. I found the most satisfying thing is to burn the bag, because the white paper totally vanishes and the foil is left. Led me to think - that would make it so suitable as the inside of a light cover as it seems like its fireproof. So, started pondering about making little lantern covers from the bags for strings of fairy lights. I thought, paint the outside paper bit, make into an interesting shape (not just boring old circular) and maybe do some "snowflake" cut-out thingies in the paper like we did at school. Then I discovered quite a brilliant extension of the whole concept as a result of failed (so far) experimentation with disposable nappy interiors. What I had done, was rip up all the fluffy bits into a saucepan with all the polymer crystal thingies in there and added water. I found that 2.1 litres (about 7 pints) swells up so-o-o-o-o-o much I had to stop, but reckon you could keep on going almost ad inifinitum. I poured a glob of purple acrylic paint in, stirred and dumped half of it into a baking sheet lined pan. The other half I kept whiteish and put into a bowl (thinking of shaping into beads later). Put those in the sun for a day and a half of very warm weather. Nothing set! It was all still a globby liquidy stuff, so I ripped up shreds of the burnt off foil from the chicken bags and decided to mix in some white glue. Had to use 125 grams per half lot (I think that equates to 8oz(???) per nappy. Mixed thoroughly and now its sat again in very warm weather (tho had to bring it inside at night because insects kept committing hari kari in the vessels). STILL not set!!!!




However, then I thought, hmmnnnnn? This could be applied as a coating to the outside of the lantern things and painted over because the crystals look amazing under paint. Hope you can see from these:Then I thought that if this works, I might even try a proper lampshade!!!! Oh my God I feel totally inspired! Plus, of course, I will have to destroy another disposable nappy and use way less water with the glue from the outset (must re-stock on that) to see if I can make a sheet of ppapery stuff and maybe some beady things. Keeping u posted!

FINISHED OR NEARLY DONE

Today is September 1, and fittingly it's a PEACH of a day. Sun shining, birds twittering, flowers blooming, temp in mid 20's (maybe 70+???). So great, isn't it to get those windows open. Now, what have I been doing? Yesterday, I decided that my floor (tiled) had so many bits of thread, balls of fluff, scraps of fabric etc that I really HAD to get out the vaccuum cleaner and give it a run. I heard a couple of loud pops and realised that I had broken a couple of ribs in my enthusiasm. Poop! I don't bother with X-rays any more, having had between 20 and 30 broken ribs in the last 3 years, I think I know what has happened and there's nothing they can do about it except tell me to expect 6 weeks for it to heal, a lot of agony doing anything including breathing and what crappy bones I have got. For that I get another little dose of radiation and a bill. No thank you. Only thing is, I rail and rant against this limitation on my mobility. Nevertheless, I did get a few things underway. Like:

It is going to be a vase cover thingy. I made a big bit of created fabric by fusing little scrappy bits between two layers of crinkled sheer and fashioned them into squarish shapes (not straight edged, wavy). Then, I thought I would try to link them into diamonds with metallic satin stitch. Alas, I ran out of said thread (Gutterman, which is great stuff but poor value for money for the amount on the reel). Having no vehicle as my son has requisitioned it, I am kinda stuck at the moment, but I hope the effect can be gained and let's hope it works out! (As you can see, I am at the tricky part.) The vase has bothered me for a while. It was just a cheapy, but i liked the blue fluted shape at the top and the overall form of it. There's always been something unidentifiable about it, tho, that seems to scream, "Yes, I look OK, but I'm still just a cheap slut."

Then I played with my chicken bag, as Arlee suggested. Let me just say, I have learned quite a bit. For a start, setting it on fire works well (plus it satisfies the pyromaniac inside). It chars the outside white paper, leaving a thin film of silver stuff that I am trying to make work like that foiling effect. One of my earlier projects of the day was to rip up a disposable nappy and take out the fluffy innards (it's got water absorbing crystals in it). I threw some acrylic paint on it and it came out great because there were still tiny bits of crystals on it and they looked cool. Unfortunately, not one to leave well enough alone, I thought I might try to foil it as well. I was smart enough to use baking paper on top of it to protect my iron - BUT, forgot that the back of the nappy was PLASTIC. I can just leave it there, can't I?? In case you cannot imagine it, this is what my ironing board looks like now:

Guess what I have to do today? I did get further inspiration about the fluffy stuff and if it works I will post it on here.

The only other thing I can claim to have achieved yesterday was to find the bargain of the century (maybe) in the form of a toy "building site" complete with many different kinds of trucks and machines. I set it up for Dylan's visit today and he will just love it. A couple of comments, though - obviously made in a non-English speaking country as the bit where the trucks come in is called the "Enterance" and the road pieces are made of thin card in jigsaw style that don't really fit together all that well, so I can see someone cracking the shits about that! I thought I might scrabble around for a piece of firm board and paint out the little scene for him instead.

Nat and Daniel (her fiance) are dropping him off soon on their way to the footy. I have a free ticket if I wanted to go, but frankly it's been a sad enough week and I don't know if I can cope with saying goodbye to the longest serving, most amazing coach my team has ever had. Goodbye Sheeds, you're a legend! Plus, James Hird, possibly the greatest Bomber to pull on a pair of boots, courageous and inspirational captain and all round great man and father to those beautiful children. At least I have this to remember him by. (Some nasty people have suggested he is my secret son!) Gonna miss you Hirdy.

ARE WE STILL THE SAME?

This is going to be quite a self-indulgent posting and I am not apologizing about that. I am finding this journalling process very cathartic and helpful to my chronic depressive state. Went shopping with my two daughters yesterday, Nat and Taz (Tarynne - but us Aussies have a horrible prediliction for shortening everyone's name, and often adding and O at the end). Accompanied, of course, by the two most beautiful children in the universe, my grandsons Dylan and Kieran (soon to be known as Dyl and Kier, or Dylo and Kiero and yes, I did point that out to their mother, but the young already know everything). Now, getting to the nub of this tale, my youngest, Taz casually informed me that :"Oh, by the way, Mum, did you know a Sue B.? Well she died." This woman was only my best friend in high school and we frequented each others homes like a bad smell between the ages of 14 and 18. Poor old Taz had no idea of course, how would she as we have since moved half a world away and I have only kept infrequent contact with Susan on the very rare occasion I have gone back to Canberra for a visit. These are usually solo trips as the family are quite scornful about the place (in the usual way of young people), nothing to do there, it's boring, it isn't a real city etc etc. So my immediately bursting into a flood of tears must have shocked the life out of her, not to mention Dylan next to me in his car seat, who tried to distract me by talking about trucks.
Last night, I was almost sleepless because, when something like that happens to you, not only does your own mortality hit you, but you keep revisiting those times you spent together. Susan was affectionately known as Sue-boo (highly original) and she was the second youngest of eight children. Her family were warm and kind and ALWAYS laughing. There was a large group of about 10 girls who hung out together (all girl Catholic high) and we were all of the same type. Highly amused by anything and everything, including plots to kill off some of the ancient nuns who "taught" us, even tho they should have been permanently posted to St Aloysius Home for Nun Senility. We had a music teacher we called Fang, because she had rather unfotunate eye teeth. We all hated music and usually waited til she sat at her piano to talk and laugh instead of singing (actually,Susan sang, because she was a bit of a goodie two-shoes in front of the nuns). She would turn around, instantly pick out the offenders and they would spend the rest of the lesson standing at the back of the room (laughing quietly). It took ages for us to discover that she could easily see us all in the reflection of that highly polished piano. Susan wanted to be a "good" girl, but we were determined to sabotage that goal, so we would convince her to skip weekly Mass and join us smoking on the sports bleachers (until we got caught and suspended) or nick out of the last class of the day and walk into the nearby city. She was always petrified, but laughing with the rest of us us we hoiked our ugly skirts up to our thighs, abandoned our compulsory hats and gloves and headed for the nearest ladies room to smother ourselves with truckloads of makeup that did little or nothing for our fresh young faces. They were such innocently naughty days - I mean we didn't do anything really bad - unlike the girl who had been expelled from the Church of England Grammar who was a compulsive shoplifter, even tho her family was wealthy. She tried to ally herself with us, but quickly found out that we did have our limits and weren't in her league. I recall that the only moment of sobriety in my senior high school years was attending the funeral of a classmate who had been tragically decapitated whilst out in a car with her boyfriend. It seems just a blur now, but I can still see the boy at the funeral (God, we were all only 17) with his arm in a cast and his face a sickly shade of white.
Susan married straight out of high school and straight away had 5 children. She and her husband had their struggles, of course as you do in the early years, but they always seemed to be happy and well matched. Imagine her shock when he told her after 25 years that he was in love with another woman and wanted a divorce. She told me she never saw it coming, God bless her for the naive and trusting sould she was. Shortly after that, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. I saw her about, I think, 5 years ago just after the big bushfires in Canberra when we had dinner with one of our other closest friends, Debbie. Sue had had chemo and radiotherapy and her hair had just started to grow back. She told us that the doctors had given her a reasonably positive prognosis, but every now and then, she has popped into my head. Of course I feel extremely guilty about not keeping in contact and I won't make excuses about that, except to say that we all become so consumed with the various paths our lives take as we get older, that it becomes harder and harder to keep all the balls in the air at once. (For me, anyway, that is true. I find that I can't even finish a novel - let alone a project since the depression splatted on top of me. Or maybe it's a side effect of the morphine?)
So - plan for the day is to aggressively launch myself at my art and hopefully have something to show at days end. It was so lovely to have Dylan yesterday afternoon even though he's still recuperative after a bad bout of chest infection. His endless chatter is distracting and so comforting. I get to have him again tomorrow from lunchtime to the next morning and that really is something to look forward to. So, while I might in some way envy my friend that she has made the passage to a better life(don't be scared folks it's only the big black beast that talks like that), how could I possibly go anywhere that my beautiful kids and my little angels are not?

LUV

I have a friend. (Not just one!) She is such a sweetheart and she punctuates her conversation reularly with the word "luv" (referring to the co-conversant). My kids call her Luv and she is so eccentric, but the great thing is that she is fully able to laugh at herself - a very typically Aussie trait. I went to her house for lunch with a couple of other pals yesterday. The thing about Luv is that she has a bit of an addiction and its a strange one. She cannot resist buying all sorts of crap - mainly because it is bargain priced. Her cupboards and every nook and cranny are groaning with all sorts of goodies - mostly never been used, still in the packaging. Like, sheets, towels, bedding of all types, teatowels, sewing notions (cottons, zips, buttons,etc - but she cannot sew!) She has huge boxes of catering size clingfilm, baking paper, foil etc. She has every conceivable type of mustard you could think of, every kind of salt, soup and on and on. She has clothes for the whole family that have never had the tags and boxes removed, like the 25 men's ties I saw draped on her lounge chair. You never, ever leave her house empty handed because she is constantly giving you things she thinks you need. Like clothes. I cannot count the things she has given to me, some never worn, that she thinks I can alter to my size and make trendy things from. Yesterday she gave me 10 unopened packets of pantyhose!!!! Some would be over 15 years old. The classic, though, was the 120 chicken bags she produced. Even she admits it was a bit odd to buy this lot! You may know them, they are white paper bags outside and foil inside and shops use them to sell cooked chickens in. I took one to play with as there MUST be a way to either utilize them or make them into something wonderful. I'm not so great at the paper arts so SUGGESTIONS would be gratefully received.
That's what I leave u with today as I woke with a dreaded migraine (took my magic pill so it's lifting slightly) and I am going shopping with both my girls and my grandsons this morning to my favourite shopping centre.

Dog Farts!!!

My poor old dog Kahluah is the victim of my attempts to economize on the groceries by purchasing store brand dried dog bits to go with her evening bone. Her flatulence would eliminate the population of a small African nation. I finally figured it out yesterday when I sat at the computer to work and was almost asphyxiated with noxious gas filling the room. She hates to sit near me when she is guilty of such crimes and promptly plonked herself in my bedroom. When I entered that room later and was again assailed by the offending pong, I had that "aha" moment of realizing who was the offender (let's face it, not a difficult deduction given there are only two of us in this house).

My son Steve rang me to ask me the make and model of my car. A little alarming, as he has been using it exclusively for the last 3 weeks! He explained, to my relief, that he had buggered one of my tyres and was phone shopping for a new one. This leads into my explanation of my two hour excursion by bus and train to my daughter Nat's house which is normally a 10 minute drive away. The main problem with our public transport system, as I see it and I am a huge fan of the concept IN PRINCIPLE, is that bus drivers seem to have a rather offhand attitude to timetabling. This attitude permits them to fly past your bus stop 6 minutes early, because it is a less busy time, and totally ignore your flailing attempts to hail them from across the road while you ponder the value of your life versus plunging headlong through the stream of peak hour traffic flashing past. I should explain that the bus in question was travelling towards the outer suburbs, not the city and presumably he was fully focused on the meat pie awaiting him at the depot for morning tea.

Glad I vented all that. Needless to say, my whole day disappeared down the gurgler, because I was so exhausted when the excercise was REPEATED at the train station (I even contemplated that it would have been quicker to walk, except for the Scottish drizzle and wind). By the time I got back home, I needed a Nanna nap!!! The day wasn't a complete waste tho, as I bought a copy of Paper, Cloth and Scissors magazine that I had not seen before (always much grist in that little jewel) and saw my divine grandsons Dylan and Kieran. Oh yeah and I spun a web (but it needs improvement.

WEIRDNESS IS ALL AROUND

Last night I was lying in bed remembering the weirdness of something I saw on

Saturday on the noticeboard at the local shopping centre. It was a handwritten note that remarked "Found - deased cat.....", went on to name location of aforesaid dead pussy, described the dearly departed and requested that the owner come and collect it. Now, I don't know if it's just me and my strange sense of humour, but I frequently find myself coming across such peculiarities in life and proceed to make up little stories about them, based on certain deductions I like to make from the evidence.

In this case, I imagine the writer, a frail old woman well into her 90s (handwriting wobbly, but typically flowery style of that vintage), digging up her fresias or winter irises (because they are finished now) and coming across -----smelly dead old cat!! I can relate so much to this poor old thing because I clearly remember the day I came across the four paws of our old cat poking up stiffly through the ivy next to the letter box on a warm spring afternoon (and boy, was she whiffy).

Then, I ask myself a la Columbo, did she feel angry, cross or was she upset and sad for the owners of moggy???????????Is that why she grabbed her walker and shuffled down to post her notice straight away? Yes, it's a real puzzler. I feel that she was more sad than irate. I would guess she has her own little Socks and thinks empathetically (she is a woman after all) about how sad she would be if he vanished one day and finished up in someone's front border.

Then, the bleeding obvious question I asked myself - Where the hell is she keeping the body until someone claims it? It wouldn't surprise me if there's a suspicious parcel wrapped in Clingfilm in her humungous chest freezer in the garage. Actually, given her age and the fact that Pussy's owners are most unlikely to ever show up and admit to the burial, I wonder if she has forgotten what that parcel is? I can imagine her opening up the door of the freezer around Christmas time, picking up the frost enshrouded lump and wondering what the...??? Really, let's not go there!

What did I do yesterday (Sunday)? Think, think.. oh, yeah, vacced all the crap off the floor, put a few things away and made some laundry bags up for a friend. You know the kind you put your smalls into and then into machine. She had given me some bits of net and stuff to do it weeks ago and really, they are only 10 minute jobs, but I had been procrastinating to hell and back about doing them, all the time thinking about the 789560 other projects either swimming lazily in my brain or already half started and put away so carefully that I possibly will only ever come across them one mad day when I go beresk and clean out all the cupboards.

I did make an attempt a copying a bottlebrush flower. Now I am going to try again to put the photo down here (I have been reading the help thingy and I think I can do this), So if (NO<>

YESTERDAY.....

I wanted to journal so much yesterday, but resisted the temptation and boy, I'm glad I did!!!! Still haven't finished the profile section.... add to eternal procrastination list/ just do it?? Yesterday was a BAD BAD day. Woke at 4 a.m. with screeching pain in back and could not get comfortable, but was so.o.o.o.o. tired, so tossed and turned until I figured it must be after 6 a.m. Well, it was. It was 6:01. Then, and I know all you chronic sufferers of depression will empathize, spent most of morning telling myself not to kill myself. You know how it goes - grit teeth, don't kill yourself, don't kill yourself. Sometimes every 10 minutes and sometimes every 10 seconds. Gave myself a good mental ticking off and decided to mindnumbingly work on my daughter's quilt which is very traditional, black and white pieced and OK, but not much room for creativity in my book. Also, found I had adapted an old song (I think by Ray Brown and the Whispers - God I was in love with Ray Brown in my youth). It went like this (my version):

Depression - torments my heart

Depression - tears me apart

Depression!

Why torture me?

I've a feeling that the original word was Suspicion. Do you think I could get it out of my brain?Then, thought no - going to finish off the ATCs I want to swap with my newest blog buddy Arlee. Which reminds me, go to her brilliant site and read EVERYTHING - she is just the best!!! Twere she who inspired me to start my own blog. Here's the link : http://arleebarr.squarespace.com/designjournal/ . To my total incredulity (is that right??) I finished them and she likes two. Here is the one remaining if anyone else wants a swap, the pic is up the top (dunno how that happened, but I will try to fix the next one (still learning). As my eldest daughter, Nat, is getting married next April and I have foolishly offered to create the bonbonniere, I decided to fiddle with that idea. I thought, use her theme colours - pale pink, blue, violet and green and make little beach basket things by weaving fabric strips in those colours and fusing onto interfacing, cut out pattern etc. They will be filled with tiny seashells and a coupla handmade chockies. To cut an extremely long and most painful story short, I ended up with a nice result but hardly worth all the time and effort and farting around - bearing in mind I need about 60 of the little buggers! Will try to put the appropriate photo HERE: Do you know what, I cannot do this just now, it is making me crazy - so look at the left hand side at the top!!!! I will definitely check out how to do it and practice tomorrow. I am playing around with making bottlebrush type of flowers and the prototype should be ready soon - BUT FIRST I HAVE TO GET OFF THIS GODDAMNED COMPUTER!!!!! The rest of my day is going to involve that quilt for Nat come hell or high water!

Hello hello hello

Hello World

This is my journal, day One. I am going to seriously try to give this a go and post as often as I can. I will spend time over the next few days writing a bit about myself. Primarily, I want to use this journal as a way to explore textile art which is a bit of a passion for me, even though I am almost completely self taught, a relative newcomer and consider I have lots and lots to learn - even at the advanced age of 57! Well, feeling as if I have dipped my toe in the water now, I might just see how I go at adding some photos I took today as I walked to the shopping centre. I live in Western Australia and I think it is safe to say that we are embarking on Spring even though it is technically still Winter (God I hate Winter). Here goes - well bit of a small boo boo, I added same pic twice, but at least I get it now. Aren't the bottlebrush great. I'm mentally wrestling with reproducing them, sort of along the lines of making fringing I'm currently thinking.

Hoping to see my daughter Nat and her eldest son, Dylan (2) tomorrow as they are both unwell and on antibiotics. I am such a sooky la la when it comes to my grandsons, I cry when they are upset or sick! Kids have a remarkable ability to get so so sick so quickly and then bounce back twice as fast with twice as much energy, but I guess a lot of recent publicity in Perth about littlies dieing with flu complications this year has made me quite a worry wart. As Scarlett says, though, tomorrow is another day ..........