Archive for August, 2008

Addiction to stitchin’

After a brief and hilarious piggy-back incident with a small but weighty miss Z the other day I have injured my arm.  I think it’s my elbow, and what is required is rest.

It’s driving me nutso.

The past months and month have been spent curled up on the sofa stitching a quilt for her, and I’m so close to the end of that journey I’m aching to polish it off, move on and enjoy the sight of it on the washing line ready to go on her bed.

With 4 rounds of stitching to go, I’ll be able to lay it out – have a look over and see areas that need more embellishment to balance it out.  It’s looking good and is so close….

But the elbow is really quite painful, and the stitching is uncomfortable so I need to put it down for a little bit, and I realise, as I lie on the sofa.  LIE THERE DOING NOTHING, that I have become addicted to the gentle, repetitive action of the thread, and the satisfaction of seeing another little round or square done.  The doing nothing was more painful than the doing.  So last night I continued, am paying for it today, but feel more satisfied in some way.

I think it really is an addiction…


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All I want…

We live in a house.

We live in a big old house.

We live in a big old house with high ceilings.

We live in a big old house with high ceilings that hasn’t been painted for at least 20 years.

We live in a big old house with high ceilings that hasn’t been painted for a least 20 years with the exception of the kitchen which has been half painted and Zara’s room which was painted a few years ago and took me two agonising and loooong days to paint and still looks like crap.

And did I mention that the outside was thoughtfully over-bricked (if there is such a thing) by a thoughtful greek builder in the 70s and that the bricks are. Ahem.  Mission brown.


So I phoned a painter the other day and this morning he arrived to give me a quote.

Oh. My. God.

You know when someone is looking at you, and not quite looking at you and blinking a lot, and thinking about what they say and trying to sound intelligent, and how you just KNOW they are not being honest – and then you don’t know whether to believe them or if they are just perhaps not very confident and you are reading them all wrong.

You know that?

Well that’s what he gave out, and the quote was for upwards of $2,500 each room.  And he will get back to me with something on paper.

And that’s not even the outside.

All I want is a white wall or two….. I think I’m stuck with a crap house for a few more years….

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Rosy Rabbit

If you came here expecting a softie I apologise…. 😛

Miss Rosy Rabbit posed at Dr Sketchy last night – and it was a lot of fun.  So good to be out drawing.  I missed it enormously.


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Daily sketching

I’m very active on the Australian Art Forum.  It’ a great place to discuss ideas, techniques and get feedback and encouragement from other artists of all levels.

We run a monthly challenge – and the challenge for September will be be to post a sketch every day.  Nothing fancy, or careful – just a doodle or a study to get back into the habit of doing it more often.

Care to join us?  Australian Art Forum.

If so, join up and join in! 🙂

I’ll post mine on here as well – and if you’d like to play with your blog let me know and I’ll post a link to your site. What fun!

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Say what?

Are you sitting?

Some people have no idea what a blog is, and it doesn’t matter to them at all.

Say what?

Blogging (reading and writing) has become such a part of my life that I just can’t comprehend how it isn’t a daily part of some peoples life.  I love to skip around the world in five minutes, seeing that it is sunny is America, that autumn is coming in England, that the tulips are blooming somewhere else, that someone made apple crumble with apples from their own tree, and that someone else just fell over in the street and managed to not spill a drop of their coffee.

It is absolutely incomprehensible to me that people who are active, intelligent and linked into the community may have no idea what or blog is, or if they know, they are just not interested in having one, or reading one, or engaging in a broader community of bloggers.

Not interested?  How is this possible?

My favourites are not the ones that send you off shopping or wanting to buy another thing of any kind.

My favourites are the ones that make you look at things a little differently, that broaden your expectations of what is possible in life, that keep you looking at what is around you in a different way.

Bloggers that share moments of their lives and inspire something in their readers. Bloggers that are honest about the bad times as well.  Bloggers that are positive about daily challenges and keep their heads in a crisis.  Bloggers that are regular posters.

It’s an indie thing I think.  It’s marvellous.  It’s a miracle that we can all find like-minded people and engage with them even though they are in another country and their interests may be obscure and left of centre.

And sometimes inspirationally odd.

Reading blogs can make your life so much richer, more stylish, more simple, more complex, more aware, more confident, more entertaining.  More.  What a marvellous diversion.

If only the chores would do themselves… 😉

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The HUGE ferris wheel as seen from the Bolte Bridge on the way to Mt Macedon yesterday.

I am cheerful, and pensive, full of ‘to-do’ lists and promises to self and others.  Excited about painting, and about not having to paint. And generally happy to be alive.

We are on the cusp of spring and I can feel it.  There is a sting in the wind and warmth in the sun.  There is dew on the grass and blossom on the trees.

It is perfect.

The anticipation is – I think, the nicest part of this whole adventure.  Knowing that things are coming, with the expectation of them being good, or purposeful in some way is always thrilling, and preparing with needle and thread – or cash (as was the guilty case today) for the warmer weather is very exciting.

Bring on summer.  We’re ready now. In the meantime, there may be some sewing… 🙂

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the old man underpants

There is something fantastically mysterious about vintage textiles.  Sometimes they retain something of the wearer.  Sometimes the wearer is mysteriously absent and only the mystery remains.

While frolicking a few weeks back, in excellent company, in my favourite Japanese textile store I unearthed a mysterious treasure.

Dark steel-blue grey, with long ties, a rigid panel, a fascinating tortoiseshell implement sewn into the inside, and beautiful, beautiful pleats.

Oh the pleats.

I immediately had to try it on to see the possibilities, and a pinafore presented itself.

The garment has been slightly refashioned.

Not knowing its true function and buying it anyway was fun, and even knowing that it may have been a pair of old man’s underpants (because Japanese clothing is so difficult to understand from here) was no deterrant.

It turns out to be Hakama,  feels fantastic on – is slightly transparent and needs layers underneath.

Arghhh treasure. 🙂

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