Beautiful Rain

I love the sound of the rain, the feel of the cold, it has got me thinking about winter, even though it it not quite here. Time to haul out the winter woollies and get knitting. I'm knitting a vest for my son who came home from school very sick today (spewing - I hate spewing - I am very good at acting the good mum, but in truth, I hate the spew). I don't know why I am knitting a vest for my son. The last 2 (hoodie) vests that I knitted for my other sons (to their specifications) have never been worn - not because they are ugly - but because they never get cold. In truth, they only occasionally wear a zip up hoodie, and as my 5 1/2 yr pointed out, if I had made it in fabric, he might have worn it. Yet, the 8yr old insists that he will wear it....if I knit it in footy colours.....Hurrah! So, here I am, knitting the same pattern again (in the biggest size possible so that it will hopefully fit for a while...). Let's hope that I get it knitted before the footy finishes.

My greatest learning curve has been that I can't knit it on the circular needles (my needles of choice) as I am doing vertical stripes - now that was a valuable lesson. As my friend's husband is oft heard to say whilst she is knitting, and unravelling... "Are you having fun yet?"

Mending softies

My boys think that skip shopper and I can fix anything & who am I to burst their bubble? Sometimes things just sit for an incredibly long time until it has been forgotten or superseded, other things, like these old softies, just get slowly mended (some of them like orange doggie get done over & over & over again).

Old George has been so well loved that his "skin" needs to be remade. Orange doggie needs his ear remade.

Caramello bear's legs sewn back on.

These are the important things that I do in the night.

cold feet

The phone call had come out of the blue. Veronica recognised the voice immediately. It was from such a long time ago that she could have blown the cobwebs off it. As soon as she heard it she was reminded of the time that they used to spend together at the clubs down in King St, Melbourne so many years ago. Short skirts, teased hair, lippy, earrings, tight tops and high heels, music, drink, men and everything else. What a wild time they had. What different time that seemed to be from now. Veronica had closed that whole part of her memory as though it did not exist and here she was being woken from 20 years sleep.

Suddenly she was gasping for air. Her suburban life was sucking her dry. Veronica could hear Simone sucking on a fag and the longing came back, even after all of those years. Veronica yearned for a life that had a buzz again. Her heart was leaping with fear and excitement at the idea. This was just what she needed right now. Something to get the hell out of here.

Life was not what she had really planned. Here she was trudging through the humdrum of life and suburbia: meals, cleaning, lunches, washing. On and on it went. Veronica had been caught in Ground Hog day for too long and thought that she would never be free of it. She was sucked dry. She could hardly even remember who she was any more. Her name bore a vague resemblance to her. Other than that, there was little else. There didn't seem to be much point in throwing the lippy on anymore or doing the hair. It was just trackies & frumpiness for Veronica for years.

When it came to the day, it seemed all to easy to arrange. Make the lunches, wipe the benches, drop the kids at school, come home and pack the bags. This was the easy part. In fact, it was down right exciting and Veronica had to stop herself from shouting about it to everyone around her. Everything seemed to be done a little faster than usual and Veronica was shaking the whole way through. This was just the break that she needed. She deserved it after all of these years. It was all going to change from here. No note. She didn't feel like it. It didn't seem like that it would do any of it justice anyway. Maybe she might come back. She didn't know. The excitement was a little sickening.

Bags packed and clothes changed. Trackies folded onto the queen sized bed. Never to be worn again. Time to leave now. Heels on, mini skirt on, hair teased, lippy on. Walk out the door. Veronica paused at the hall mirror. Behind her was the family portrait. With that she turned and removed her heels from her cold, cold feet and put them into her warm ugg boots and got on with her day.

Thanks Pip for the theme for this weeks (creative!!) words and pictures!

iron on interfacing

One of the things that I used to always find frustrating with sewing was using iron on interfacing for a few reasons:

a: I don't like the smell of it as it sticks onto my iron

b: I don't like it sticking to my ironing board & then to everything else that I use afterwards

c: I can't stand that bubbling thing that happens when you use it.

So I have improved my ways with using it & most people has what is needed to be able to get the professional results in their kitchen pantry.

There are two phrases that you need to remember: "NON-STICK BAKING PAPER" & "STEAM OFF"

1. Using 2 sheets of NON-STICK BAKING PAPER, put the piece of fabric & interfacing (glue side facing the fabric) between the sheets of NON-STICK BAKING PAPER.

2. With the iron up to Hottest temperature possible for the fabric (most important) and the STEAM OFF, press down over the top sheet of NON-STICK BAKING PAPER.

3. Ensure that you cover all of the fabric & do this for about 1 minute moving the iron around the whole time with the STEAM OFF with reasonable pressure.

4. Once you have finished, you will be able to reuse this NON-STICK BAKING PAPER, just ensure that you keep the "insides" of them together & roll them up so that you never put your iron on the insides of the used NON-STICK BAKING PAPER.

Out of Scraps

This is a little bag that I made up yesterday afternoon from a scrap of towelling fabric. It was an odd shape, hence the odd shape bag, however, it seems kinda cute for a mobile phone. Nice and cosy for winter. It was also my first time with the "clicker". I stuffed up the first try with the press stud (had it upside down), smashed one old wooden cotton reel, but in the end, got it right. I have demystified the press stud.

a long drive

just one bag each

packed night before

yellow combi full to the gunnels

curtains drawn

tick tock goes the clock

footsteps in the night

bing goes the alarm

lights shining now

bleary eyed children

parents rushing here

quell tablets pushed down throats

one last stop at the loo

then slam go the doors

"hush! the neighbours sleep"

take seats quickly

pillows under head

teddies under arms

eyelids shut now

engine turns over

roll up the gravel drive

start the ardous journey

from templestowe

all the way to kurrajong

thanks to Pip at Meet me at Mikes for hosting words & pictures! Play along if you like - it's fun.

Little Things

This week's theme for the great words and pictures set up by Meet me at Mikes of Little Things and if you want to read some of the other great stories, then just have a look over here and settle down for a read.



The words "Anger Management For Mums" flashed at me on the brochure in the Maternal and Child Health Centre. I grabbed the brochure & stuffed it in my bag before anyone could see me. It was a red brochure. Why red? Was that so that everyone would be able to see the people who had picked it up in their mother's groups? Thank goodness I wasn't with anyone. I pushed the brochure further down into the bag just in case it surfaced when I went to the shops later.
"Come on, let's get out of here." I said to my youngest.

I knew that I wasn't that angry, but still was it all right to scream like a banshee between 4 and 6 pm to 3 boys aged between 3 & 7. I know that there were a lot worse things that could be happening out there, but I also knew that there were a lot better things that could be happening. I wanted to find a way to stop that fire that built up inside me until I felt like getting one of the kids, it didn't matter which & throttling them. I knew it wasn't pc to talk about, but that was how I felt. I knew I couldn't throttle. I even knew that hitting wasn't ok, so all that was left was to scream. Once the screaming was done, I was like a wet rag all rung out. Nothing left except sorrow and remorse. All I could do was apologise for my terrible behaviour. I justified it with the fact that they were learning the full spectrum of emotion and that they would not be emotional cripples. Great! I knew I was wrong deep down, that screaming at the top of my lungs at them was not really doing anything.

I timidly booked into the course (with free childcare - whoopee!) ready to be lectured about my abhorrent behaviour. I expected there to be a bunch of really angry women there. What do really angry women look like? Wow! They just look like me, and you, and every other woman around me that I always see. It was the most empowering day of my life. There was understanding. There was nodding. There was sadness. There was a richness and most of all there were strategies, real life strategies on how to get through the anger.

The most important thing that I learnt from this was some words from the lady running the course.

When things are getting out of control, and they won't listen to you, or you feel angry, just slip their hand into yours, and remember that they are only this small once and your anger will melt away. They are just Little Things.

sorting the mountain

A great friend Andrea sent me an email last week wondering if I was interested in some old buttons & fabric from an old relative of hers & I have been having a wonderful time in lounge room since then going through many bags and boxes of this gorgeous lady's sewing history.

There was so much fabric that I had to sort it into colours (is this too anal?)

and then the buttons

and the buckles (can you believe the amount of them...! I think that I might have to make belts)

I feel soooo lucky. Bless her! There are are other treasures that I will share once I have got it organised and taken the pics.

now that's a weekend

2 nights out, without the kids, living large. Two events on one night - doesn't sound much to those without kids...but to the rest of us...this is HUGE!!

Friday night, Harmony picnic at school followed by (yes, second event!!!), CD launch for Charles Jenkins & the Zhivago's - The Blue Altas Collection at the Northcote Social Club.



Brilliant night catching up with friends, listening to great tunes, sensational strings and watching a definitely underated band perform. A CD worth having in my collection, and if you haven't heard of them, you have now, and should get yourself a cd of their intelligent rock. Best listened to loud & danced to (...well that's what I do!). All credits to Charles Jenkins and The Zhivagos (Matty Vehl, Art Starr and Dave Milne) & producer Ric Morgan & sound engineer Jimi Maroudas. Out now in Australia on Dust Devil Music via Stomp at all good cd shops ...


Next night out to dinner, just skip shopper & I, initially booked for one place that could only give us a late booking. We arrived for the late booking on time to find the said restaraunt booked...out.... Now, let's say, skip shopper is a little on the leaner side of skinny & doesn't last too long past dinner time... so we were happy to wait a little while, however... The people that came after us were given a table 15 mins after we arrived whilst we stood perusing the large window menu... thank goodness for the warm night! While I watched skip shopper turn yellow & eyes beginning to glaze, I looked back to our old favourite, The Asian Kitchen in Racecourse Rd, Flemington (Victoria). I ran up to check that they had a spare table & sure enough, just one. Gorgeous! They have done a beautifule reno & new menus but same food & same beautiful staff. I saw food on there that I was unable to read before because it was written on the blackboard & didn't want to stand for too long at someone else's table trying to read just 'cause I've got crap eyesight. Fabo. Phat talay. The best. Spicy tongues, full tummies, no kids & we get to walk home! Bliss.

Final hurrah. A good friend dropped over a stash of fabric & notions (that means buttons, lace, trims etc) from her old relative for me! Yippee!

Words & Pictures - Cosy

picture courtesy: su-lin

When I grew up in Lower Templestowe, there was a big paddock between our house and our school. We did not have to walk very far to school, in fact the walk was very short. My brother, four years older than I, my sister, half way between us, and I walked together up the crunchy gravel driveway under the big gum trees and out onto the concrete pavement. We would then turn right past the tall brick fence of the Boggi's house and run past the giant gate with the barking German Sheppard to get to the corner house with the sagging paling fence that had teeth missing. I would sometimes run a stick along the fence until I got the short brick fence with the black brick topping that ran to the corner angles. At the corner, the three of us would hold hands and look both ways before we crossed over Hazel Drive. We would then climb up the little worn-in dirt path that was in the cliff that would take us into the over grown and neglected paddock. I loved walking through this paddock to school because it felt like we were going on an adventurous journey. We would talk about the mysteries of the glasshouse that was in the next paddock and why all of the windows had been smashed. I always wondered if there was anyone in there and if there any plants were growing in there. There was a very falling down old fence that would have been very easy to get through, however, none of us were brave enough to go through it.

When it rained, we had gumboots and bright yellow rain capes to wear that protected our bags as well & had tiny slits at the front for our hands to come out. What this meant was that we couldn't really move our arms at all and had to be really careful not to fall over. I remember one day my sister falling over on the way home and falling face first into a muddy puddle. My brother and I couldn't stop laughing because she couldn't get her hands out to get up & she was just rolling around like a yellow lump in the mud. When we got home, mum quickly got all of her clothes off and popped her in the bath and made her a delicious hot chocolate and hot cinnamon and sugar toast to warm her up.

I was a very quick learner, even at that young age, so whenever it rain (and take note you youngen's, it did seem to rain a lot more back in the 70's), I would make sure that I got as wet and muddy as possible in the paddock on the way home to make sure that I could get that bath, hot chocolate and cinnamon toast and be nice and cosy....