Interruptions

After my last post I thought I'd be flying away with the sewing machine, happily producing masses of product.

Nup.

Stuff happens. You know it does. But why does it happen so much? I'm mystified. Where does the time go and all that... what with M continuing on the sick list, a sudden trip away to attend a funeral (later this week), a lot of severe insomnia, going for walks, keeping the home fires burning.. just getting from Point A (vertical, sentient and caffeinated) to any Point B seems so complicated.

How, oh HOW, did I ever manage full-time work, part-time study and single parenting? I must have been organised to the eyeballs, whirling dervishly and enjoying advanced competence. My life now appears to be so much simpler, but the hidden complexities of a retired life are really very time-consuming. I think my sis would say 'you need a bit of STRUCTURE' and she'd be right.

So, in spite of interruptions of many and complex natures, I'm going to think about structure, diaries, programming, appointmentalising, and discipline. This last word fills me with amusement cos I don't have any. But I can THINK about it!

Today brought to you by Gucci, sunshine, and the promise of some crafty time this afternoon while I have my baby fix. Yeah!

Strange; very strange...

Go and buy (lots of) fabric. Pore over it, pat it, fiddle with it, hold it up against self, walls, cats, willing friends, unwilling husbands, the kid walking past on his way home from school.

Eventually, having repeated the above many, many times so as to accumulate a large and unwieldy stash of pristine fabrics.. buy the book. More books. Magazines, flyers, exhibition booklets, online freebies and lots of photos of bits of mosaic and stained glass.

Divert yourself into knitting and crochet for ... several ... years.

Get a grip; install a big bookcase; stuff it full of sorted stash.

Then sign up to a class!

Next thing, you are engaged in cutting up purrfectly good bits of fabric into TINY LITTLE BITS. These scatter all over your worktable, ironing board (aka back-up worktable); bed, floor, clothes and cat. Sort, re-sort, sigh, swear, and sob over them until some semblance of what you intended the pattern to be, manifests itself.

Endure the delay caused by lack of sewing machine foot/needle/thread of correct/lack of ability to remember how to use it cos it's been so long ... thread, re-thread, test bobbin, swear a lot more....

... and!!! ...

produce a bloody marvellous bit of patchwork, all those tiny bits of fabric now neatly (if not necessarily very accurately) sewn up into something that is far greater than the sum of its parts. Spend far too long patting, de-threading, ironing, tweaking and admiring, and hanging the result on all those mentioned in the first sentence. Decide that borders don't scare YOU and pick the width, easily.

Stop it before you go blind, demented and/or sew it back-to-front (a distinct possibility) and be taken out to dinner.

I think this counts as progress! Today brought to you by eau-de-ironed cotton, and ... and ... just you wait for the photo.

Reviewing, sort of..

Two weeks ago I started a new patchwork class - how to make a Ramallah quilt. Using saturated plain colours, on a black or other dark background. Very interesting, using only a basic log cabin, but swapping colours within the patch, and then cutting the whole thing (a 30cm patch) into four pieces, so that you get four times the possibilities for making different patterns and colour combinations. Interesting. A good reminder that back to basics is a very valuable concept. I know *I* get stuck in the gorjussness of patterned fabrics, and textures, and sheens... and here is a very very simple idea which leads to stunning results!

In other news, it's windy, cold, two of the humans in this household of two are not well, and Wendy has made it quite clear that she purrfurs being an only cat. And, now that she's had a taste of some different types of cat fud, she's also making it clear that mere crunchies are so, like, yesterday. The only thing we have as a weapon to use against this shameless blackmail is the fact that we are still bigger than her. Not much I agree!

I'm also crocheting a circle, in a very restrained pallette of colours. Also a departure for me, who likes strong constrasts. I'm using plum, rose pink, dark blue, mid-blue with pale flecks, dark teal, and a very pale lilac. Two rows each of trebles. It's about a metre across now, and I've used up the plum and original rose pink wool. So when I get to the end of the next 'band' of the colour repeat, I'm going to stop the trebles and begin making chains. A few rows of that in the remaining colours (and, maybe, not a complete circle in each colour, but I'll see what that looks like), some tufts of the colours in mohair (the mid-blue and the rose pink... hmm... blue and pink... maybe NOT. Blue, mid-blue and teal might be better) and it's finished. And yes, dear patient reader(s?), I shall attempt to post a photo. If I can manage that, I'll have a go at putting a fold in, and also posting links.

Both of my laptops died last week, and one of them is beyond redemption. Well, not the type of redemption *I* can afford. To my amusement, the fixing-it bloke said 'its logic centre is kaput'. Logic centre??? Who knew? But I am very grateful that my new lappie, the darling Airbook, is fixable UNDER WARRANTY. For once, the consumer is ahead! I should be back to hours of 'studying' asap. Meantime I am reduced to using M's desktop, which the fixing-it Macbloke took very hard. He could feel my pain....

This week brought to you by burnt jam, overcooked veggies, several smashed glass things, and a stiff neck. Nearly all of these set-backs were caused or at least directly related to a complete lack of sense of smell, shaky hands (Ventolin roolz!), and bad sleep. I HAVE worn some Obsession, some Prada, and some Gucci. For all I knew, it coulda bin eau de catbox, dead spuds, or lashings of lurgy-lotion :-/

Another day, another lurgy..

I've probably used this title before. Tis the season of viral discontent, just before violets burst forth (or fifth) into a wasted land... well, actually that's a harsh word for my backyard, which is looking quite spiffy these days. I however have resumed the famous Panda-eyes stance. Bugger it!

It's not the oinky flu, just a cold. But it hit fast and hard on Friday night, and I've had no sense of smell and considerable discomfort ever since.

Things which I can't do - which pisses me off mightily:

- smell
- breathe
- lie down without something aching
- see anyone
- enjoy my lattes
- go to see a dear one who's in hospital and in need of a spot of solidarity
- dig the garden, comb the lawn or ajax the roof
- get on a plane to see rellies and have a spend
- enjoy the merest hint of a purrfume
- go to crafty

Thing I can do - which are cold comfort:

- sit
- wear my new purple pjs all day
- drink coffee and remember how it tastes
- knit, crochet, fiddle with fabric and suffer textile delusions of grandeur
- think about my reunion with the young chappy who has stolen my heart
- whinge in print
- play my dopey computer game and get a better score
- spend lots of time with M - actually that's pretty warm comfort so it shouldn't be on this list.

Amazing how a microscopic thingy can cause such havoc with the whole body.

I sent out an SOS for banana cake and my darling mama obliged. It's got about an inch of icing and it's moist and delicious. Well, I *think* it's delicious! Thanks mum. If a cure could be brought about by mere cake, this one would be a contender.

Now, back to the tissue box and a bit of grizzling...

Today brought to you by nothing at all. DAMMIT!!