I'm back. I managed to slip away for a few days over Christmas to take our anual trip up north to spend Christmas with Mr You's family. The negotiations at work ended in a compromise that I could go for a few days, if I worked from up there, and if I could prevent the clients from noticing that I was away (shh, don't tell anyone). It worked! I'm back now though, and back at work.

Mr You is still away and I must admit I'm a wee bit lost without him. I'm bored and lonely, I haven't got back into the swing of things yet, and I've forgotten what it is that I do in my spare time (well I remember, I'm just a bit apprehensive about jumping back into them all after such a relaxing weekend).

It's very strange coming home, and then not saying a word or making a sound until you go out the next day.

I miss having someone to welcome me home, and chatter to, and play with. It's really unsatisfying just talking on the phone, I don't like it; it leaves me feeling empty and wilted.

I had a great Christmas weekend get-away, but I'll tell you more about it once I regain my chatter.

Wishing happiness to you all this holiday, where ever you may be.

Am I envious or starstruck that my friend Lacey-T got to go to the Morph show in Adelaide? I sent her a huge email when I found out it was going to be on urging her to go. She's not much into blogs, but is quite crafty and can knit up a storm (or a damn fine scarf at least), so I knew she'd love it. I wish I could have gone too, but as Adelaide is a good 2 days drive from here...

Anyway, turns out she did love it, and sent me these mementoes. I just can't believe she got to see Hillary's dolls, and Claire's cats, and Heidi's toast and donuts, not to mention everyone else's stuff too. I'm so so starstruck! It's probably lucky I couldn't go, I may have drooled or tripped or something equally as foolish and destructive.

Okay okay, so I’m running really behind, behind in everything in fact. This entry is for Camilla’s Peeping Friday (thanks to Miss May for the idea). Last week’s topic was “show me what’s inside your handbag”, so here’s mine, somewhat late, although I did take the photos last Friday so technically it’s a-okay.

A while ago the cheap lining in my bag ripped so I re-lined it in a super customised fashion to meet all my bag-like needs. I needed a pocket for my phone so it’s easy to get to in a hurry, I also decided to make a pocket for my keys so I can cut down on that 5 minute rummage outside the door each evening. Then I was on a roll… I made a pocket for my sketchbook, a pocket for my pens and a secure zipped pocket for little bits and pieces. I was about to make a pocket for my sunglasses when I realised that if I kept going there’d be nothing left to put in the actual bag bit. So I stopped just in time.



This was a good day to photograph my bag innards actually, the night before I’d done a bag swap for my work Christmas party fancy dinner thing. The next morning when putting everything back in my trusty day bag I did a bit of a clean out, which is why it look so tidy in there. Rest assured though, there are ample pockets you can’t see still filled with miscellaneous stockpiles of barely-held-together scraps of paper and tissues and other junk. Pockets do wonders!

My Christmas shopping plans may have swayed just a little off course this week... I bought something for myself instead! heh-heh.

You see it's like this, when you haven't been shopping in ages, and then you're let loose in amongst a wild shopping frenzy, things are bound to go a little awry. Especially when you’re heading into stores and departments you don’t normally cross, so you can hardly blame me right? I was a helpless victim really.

This week I fell absolutely head-over-heels for this book. Some might say it’s merely a children’s book, mind you it’s children’s books that are usually the most beautiful. It’s presented under the guise of a dolls house, but isn’t really about dolls at all.
(which is my way of saying "I'm cool man. No girly dolls for me. Not me, No Sir")

It takes you through a number of historic periods, starting with Medieval England, 18th Century France, Victorian England, and finally to Belle Époque. Each era outlines the customary costume (including headwear, jewellery, shoes, bags and gloves), and common pastimes, but the best parts are the pop-up houses. The houses show not only the outside but also the inside and talk about home deco and art of the time. The book is filled with fabric swatches, pop-up and fold-out parts, and is all presented in beautiful quaint illustration. Even the front cover has a tactile velvet pattern and a tassel. YES A TASSEL! So you see why I just HAD to have it!

There are lots more photo’s of it in my Flickr.

I nearly fell over when I realised there's only one weekend left before Christmas. So the frenzied Christmas gift shopping has begun. It's been pretty successful so far, check out these fantastic babushka dolls I picked up! (complete with blurry-bum photo; they're shy). I'm in love.

The good? Today I saw that someone had a huge bunch of fresh green grapes hanging from their rear vision mirror in their car. Such a great idea, I’m always up for a snack.

The funny? Yesterday I walked past the huge Masonic temple building a few blocks from my work. Standing just outside the doorway was a man in a suit with his head buried in a book, furiously reading. As I walked past him I glanced at the book that had him so absorbed. Without a word of a lie the title of the book was “Masonites for dummies”!

Do you think he was on his way to an important meeting, or cramming for his entrance exam?

AND I thought the whole Masonic order was super top secret…

I’ve saved the bad until last.
The bad? Yesterday was so so hot, 40 C, which is about 104 F. One of those days when it’s so hot it feels like the liquid centres of your eyes are cooking like a boiled egg. After work I took myself off to Bronte beach for a swim. At 7:30pm the beach was still packed like it was the middle of the day, but the water was amazing. It was really cooling and cleansing and de-stressing, just the ticket really…Until…

Today Mr You sent me a link to a news report about a shark at Bronte and Bondi yesterday evening. And when I say shark, apparently it was about 4-5 meters long (that’s about 12-16 foot) and it’s fin stuck up out of the water about 1 meter (that’s 3 foot). Holy Crap!

I had no idea, and I certainly didn't hear anyone screaming like a monkey. (read the eyewitness accounts for a good laugh).

My Illustration Friday entry for 'blue', and this one is also for 'small'.

I missed IF last week, but because I loved the theme so much, I’ve combined it with this weeks theme. So I’ve illustrated ‘small’ using ‘blue’ (plus she’s looking a little blue).

You see, the fact of the matter is that I am small. I always have been, and now it seems I always will be. With this all over smallness come small hands and small feet. My feet are so small that I spent my high school and uni years with masking tape around my ankles just to stop my ‘normal human’ sized socks from sliding off. I have since resorted to wearing children’s socks, which unfortunately has left me with a sock drawer of teddy bears, puppy dogs, flowers and superheros. It’s so embarrassing.

What’s worse is that last time I went to the physio, while busy bending parts of me this way and that, she reached my feet and said “My what small hoofs you have!”
HOOFS!? Did you hear that? THAT's how small my feet are!

We're getting a God Baby! Weeeeeeeeeeee

"What's a God Baby" I hear you ask. Well from what I can work out it's a baby of the best kind. A baby that you don’t have to give birth to (someone else has kindly done that for us), and I’m assured that the process of Mr You and I becoming God parents involves absolutely no pain! Come to think of it I’m not too sure what it does involve, (something about never forgetting birthdays, I’d better google it), but as long as it doesn’t hurt I’m totally in!

We're completely chuffed about the whole thing, but also a little freaked out, we don’t really know anything about babies, except you’re not suppose to shake them. We’ve been friends with her parents for a long time, but shouldn’t there be some kind of interview process? I mean are they aware of all our bad habits?

Do they know that when no one is looking I'll take a huge spoonful of peanut butter right out of the jar and spend the next 20 minutes licking it off?
Or that if there is chocolate in the house Mr You will eat it with his morning coffee, before breakfast?
Or that I clean my teeth using warm water so that each day I can deny there’s any hurting sensation and that I may in fact need to visit a dentist?

Are we the type to be trusted with such a pretty little girl?
Maybe we need to do a course.

I'm still crazy busy at work, only this week I'm feeling much less perky about the whole thing. It all went south when I was told I'd have to work over Christmas...
I've been stressed, frik'n cranky and verging on being a sobbing heap ever since. We were planning on going away (as we do every year), and I was really really hanging out for it. But now it's like my goal posts have been burnt to the ground and there's no end in sight. HHMMPH!

I did warn you about the crankiness.

I could quite conceivably hand in my notice tomorrow and be resigned before Christmas arrives. Arh, but do I have the gall? Probably not. Though the thought does make me smile.

Anyway, at times like these I like to pretend, for small amounts of time, that I never have to go outside into the business world ever again. So come with me, bunker down, and I'll show you some of the interesting aspects of my wee house.
(Including a couple of fireplaces, tiles, stain glass windows, frilly front door screen, and noseless hallway arch sphinx).



Sydney is filled with federation houses built around 1880-1910. Ours is one of them, (I say ours, but sadly it belongs to someone else who, with our help, can afford to own a house). This time last year we lived in a flat (apartment), which was boxy and modern. Now we have a quirky old house with a skylight in the kitchen, a back yard, and shiny shiny floorboards the whole way through. I love it. Let's never leave.

I love this week's Illustration Friday topic, and I'm dying to do an illo for it, but I've been so busy I haven't had a chance. ("Small" is me to a tea). I might try and do one on the weekend and post it anyway.

I've been in meetings at work all week, my biggest project (that I've been working on since June) is handing over today, eeek. I've really enjoyed this job though, the clients are lovely, which makes a huge difference. I've also finally got stuff up on ebay, and I wont have any illo time tonight either as we're going to the opening night of the new Harry Potter movie! (if I get away from work in time).

It's actually all very exciting! I can't wait to see Harry Potter. Kilkenny managed to score tickets through his seriously perk-filled work, but I don't think he's anywhere near as excited about it as Mr You, Elle and I are.

I also had the bigggest laugh writing the completely fruity descriptions for my ebay items. I'm a bit nervous about how they'll go, they're pretty... well "pretty". It's not my usual style (much more girly than I'm used to), but Jiang at work was my muse for these ones. She's obsessed with that shabby chic style, and has been encouraging me alot (giving me loads of ideas), so we'll see how they go. You've got to start somewhere right? It's been good fun sewing. I actually really love the way the Christmas decorations turned out, considering how simple they are.

If you're into all things "pretty pretty", check them out, and have a good laugh at my awsome copywriting while you're at it.

Is it bad to wish yourself backwards? I wish I was myself a year ago. What does that say about where I am now? Or about how far away it feels? And how far away the next place seems?

The stepping stones are too wide apart.

..."COWBOY!... on a steel horse I ride. And I’m wanted...WANTED... dead or alive..."

I’ve just gotten home, a little hoarse and dizzy from a night of over-enthusiastic karaoke. My friend Jiang is leaving our work to move back to China, and in a dramatic send off we all sang loudly at her for a couple of hours. Under a glow-in-the-dark imitation of Botticelli’s “Birth of Venus” on the wall in one of those private rooms, in one of those classy establishments, we belted out some hot-rockin’ trax like there was no tomorrow. We’re so sophisticated.

There were certainly some stand out numbers that will prevent Jiang from ever wanting to return to this fair land, which of course was all part of the elaborate plan to make it easier for her to leave. I did my bit; I partook in a duet of Blondie’s “Call Me”. Other than that I contracted a strange condition, or perhaps an electrical fault of some sort, that saw my voice silenced each time a microphone was pointed in my direction. Much like a wild dog, I prefer to howl in a pack.

You see I can not, I repeat not sing. I like to try (in the safety of a loud crowd or a soundproof car), but in all reality I’m much more of the drag queen type myself. I’ll do the moves, and I know all the words, but along with Betty-Boo and Milli Vanilli, I’m designed purely for lip-synching. Top of the Pops here I come!

“Call Me. On the line. Call me. Call me any day or night. Call Me!”

My Illustration Friday entry for 'free'.

This weekend was spent entertaining Mr You’s sister and her children, who were in town for a few days. Coming to a city is a very exciting time for the kids, so we took them to see a few things that hopefully stick in their memories for a while.

Yesterday we took them to see the Sculpture by the Sea exhibition, which is an annual event hosted along the headland between Bondi and Tamarama beaches. It’s a spectacular backdrop for some stunning sculptures. I loved the glass fence, and the kinetic wind and solar antennas, but I think the standout piece this year was the giant scaffolding wave.



Today we went to the aquarium and set about on the quintessential hunt for Nemo. Fish are cool. There’s one great room in there set up like a little amphitheatre with the lights down low and classical music up loud, so you can sit and watch giant cute flat-faced silver fish dance in unison before you. I also loved watching the octopus gracefully untangle its tentacles before twisting them back up again as it shifted position. I absolutely love the manta rays, but once again I had a favourite, and this time it was the “moon jelly fish”. The tank was entirely dark except for a red spotlight making the jelly fish shine iridescent red, and they undulated in and out like slow motion fireworks.



Our quest to awe the kids seemed to work, but the plan to wear them out failed. I’ve held little hands, ran and chased, and been given more slappy affectionate hugs around my legs than I can remember. Although my own name was almost worn right out from it being called out repeatedly all weekend, (usually followed by “Come over here” or “Look at this!”).

Our 5 year old buddy (as Mr You and I sat on the couch with him last night) announced he wanted to do “who’s the cutest”. His mum shook her head in that “I don’t think so” way, but he continued…
“Do you want to know which one of you is the cutest?”…

I won’t say if it was Mr You or I who won the highly sought after award, but I WILL say that he is now my very favourite 5 year old!
(plus he taught me how to beat-box by saying “books”, or “b-k-s” over and over again really fast).

Another lovely link I could dance around all day (if I didn't have to go to work): One girl garden

My Illustration Friday entry for 'strength'.

Facing your demons and foibles takes courage. But staying to deal with them takes strength and determination. Then knowing whether to slay them or offer them support and nurturing is a whole other thing altogether.

- My new hero is Jen for opening her totally awsome new store

- My new favourite artist is Joe Sorren

- I've always had a soft spot for installation art: Jen Kim

- Another arty link, this time it's Mini Graff's intricate stencils

- Next is some of the most adorable crafty loveliness I ever seen, all wrapped up in the shape of baby shoes by Catarina

- And the last one... Well I'm not exactly sure HOW to explain the last one (I'm not sure the laws of physics could either), but if you're at work or in a public place, you may want to construct a privacy hut over your monitor out of paperclips and folders for this one.

Can someone please tell me what Australian Vogue were thinking when they chose THIS photo for the cover of this months issue?! Maybe it was to extend their sales to freakish types who respond well to a head that’s on backwards. (it sort of worked actually because I don’t normally buy magazines, but I had to get this one for that reason).

I don’t understand. The whole magazine is filled with this so-skinny-it’s-insect-like (but unusual and very pretty in a Mark Ryden way) creature. And the rest of the photo’s show her head looking normal; facing the front of her body as we’ve all come to expect. So WHY, I repeat, did they choose this photo for the cover, where her head is clearly on backwards?!

We were walking past a newsagent window one day when Mr You and I first saw this. We caught a glimpse in our peripheral vision; we twirled back for a better look and recoiled in horror at the grotesqueness of the aforementioned head.

My circuits were sent into a flurry; “Does not compute. Does not compute.” Nothing in my memory could recall such a formation, and the only thing that came close was the scene in The Labyrinth when the Fireys (who pulled off each others heads) attacked Sarah, yelling out “PULL OFF HER HEAD!”. But even then I recall the scene ending with her escaping to distant background calls of “HEY, HER HEAD DON’T COME OFF!”

They’re right you know. Human heads aren’t supposed to come off. The only thing I can think of to explain this terrible choice in cover photography is that the relationship went sour. I mean she is ALL the way through this issue, in every feature, every catwalk, every fashion shoot, and even every interview somehow comes back to her.

Perhaps after all of that the staff just got sick of her, or maybe she down right pissed them off in some way. Contractually they still had to run with her, hell they’d put all their eggs in one basket, they had nothing else to replace her with, not on that many pages. So in revenge they picked the worst photo they could find of her, (the photo taken at a weird moment when she pulled her head back to avoid a passing blowfly) and boldly stuck it on the cover for the whole country to gasp at.

Moral of the story?:

- Well maybe it’s do all you can to keep a professional relationship in good working order, at least until the mags have hit the stands.

- Write a clause in your contract that all photo’s of you must be viewed and approved by your fussiest family member before they can go to print.

- Or, if you are insect-like creature, quickly swallow the passing blowfly, never pull your head back to avoid it!

You Belong in London

A little old fashioned, and a little modern. A little traditional, and a little bit punk rock. A unique woman like you needs a city that offers everything. No wonder you and London will get along so well.

Your Life is Like

Serendipity

Your Inner Retro Girl Is

1980s Goth Girl

My Illustration Friday entry for 'night'.

Is it a sign of inspiration or dissatisfaction when your mind won’t quit? I’ve been overloaded in thoughts of things I could make. I’m sketching madly and buying fabric and ribbons and trims, but have hardly any time to actually make any of them.

I spent most of Sunday sewing, but keeping the confidence is something of a struggle at the moment. Elle and Kilkenny popped around on Sunday afternoon, we sat in the shade of the tree on our grassy patch out the back drinking icy cold water. I showed them the cushions I’d been sewing, and told them of my plan to make crafty things to sell.
“How much do you expect to get for them?” they asked
“Oh, maybe $10 or $20 if I’m lucky”
With that they reached into their wallet and offered me $10, (in a gesture that said “why work all day long for $10? Isn’t your Sunday worth more than that?”)

It got me thinking. I mean they’re right, right? But still, there’s something more to all of this. Like I said at the beginning it’s a sign of dissatisfaction in what I’m currently doing that I’m considering these things in the first place. And I’m lucky that there’s inspiration at the same time otherwise I’d just be feeling crappy. At very least it’s giving me a bit of hope. Hope, I suppose, that there are alternate ways of living in this world that don’t involve commuting in peak hour and working 9 to 6 or 7pm at a desk all week long. I’m growing so weary of that.

There are people out there who do it; who earn a living in more flexible ways, and from sources that are more authentic to who they are. And the only difference I can see between them and the rest of us, is that they are actually doing it. They don’t have this conflict of confidence that stops them from even starting, and at the risk of sounding like I’m promoting a brand of sport shoe: they just do it!

I’m not jumping in head deep. I’m not expecting to earn a living from craft. I’m just doing things that I enjoy doing and seeing where it leads, if anywhere. I mean that’s what the wise always tell us right – “Find something you like doing, and do it well”?

My first hurdle is to stop worrying about it all and just start FOR GOD SAKE! (I’m not sure who invented doubt, but I’m sure they didn’t intend it to be used in these instances.)

I’ve been quiet this week, and now you’re probably glad of it. But thanks for listening through all this thick anxiety. And thanks to those who lead the way and inspire me more every day: Jen at Piddleloop, Amy at Angry Chicken, Hillary at Wee Wonderfuls, and all the rest of you crafty vixens.

I want it! I need it! I must have it! It’s mine, aaaalll mine. Yes, yes, come to me my precious. Exxxxcellent. Huh? Wha!? I can’t afford that! I’ll spend MORE. Waaaait! That’s not fair! It’s just not fair! Hang on! Damn it! Shit! I can’t stand this!

I hate ebay!

Mr You chuckles at me when I use language and chuck a tantrum worthy of a spoilt bratty 6 year old. He’s a veteran when it comes to ebay, but I’m a not so sparkling newby. Let’s just say I’m having a rough period of adjustment. I’m use to the theory that if you see something you like (usually in a shop), you can have it, if you can pay for it and manage to get to it before anyone else. Ebay is shopping, but not as I know it.

I’m trying to build up my profile with lots of AAAAAA+ style feedback, but to do this you have to buy stuff, and there’s the hitch. I don’t want to just buy any old thing, just for the sake of it, I’m looking for things I would actually like to own. Finding cool things is easy, in fact I find things that are absolutely perfect – things I need – things I can’t do without, but I just can’t seem to clinch the deal. I try. I bid and watch and outbid, I check the currency converters, and push the budget, and then inevitably loose every single time. I just can’t stand it.

It’s turning me into a greedy, selfish, bad tempered, obsessed consumer. I don’t need those things. I’d like them, but I’ve got more than enough as it is. I’m fortunate and surrounded by lots of pretty things, and accumulating more stuff is not where I should be focussing my attention. No More. That’s it! I’m putting my foot down. No More I say.

But…

Have you seen this?
And This?
And these?
Oooh, I’ve got to get one of these lenses…

My Illustration Friday entry for 'broken'.

The entries for Penelope's Halloween 'draw a witch' contest are flooding in, amassing more cloaked folk in one place than Daigon Alley!

There are so many great witches, I am glad I’m not one of those poor judges. Having said that I’m sure most of the entries aren’t in it to win it, more just to partake in the fun, (plus the promise of a set of Penelope’s postcards for every one who enters is an enormous draw card – I got mine this week, so I’m set!). There are already 93 entries, and there are apparently a stack more to be loaded in.

If I were one of those poor judges my “highly commended” trophies would go to:
Number 67 (for cuteness)
Number 6 (for originality of witch and technique)
Number 7 (for collage loveliness)
Number 19 (I can’t tell if this is a Penelope one or not, but looks a bit like it to me)
Number 22 (this one can’t only come from one person – Lori Joy)
Number 24 (looks very Emily The Strange-ish)
Number 32 (Another fantastic Wynlen creation)
Number 48 (a little bit like the witch version of Fairy Beauty)
Number 56 (for all you stylish art deco lovers out there)
Number 79 (another cuteness winner)
And Number 81 (for a good laugh thinking of how funny it would be for the expressway of tourists dashing through the Louvre to be met with this instead).

My Silver trophies would go to:
Number 26
Number 34
And Number 58

DRUUMMMROLLLLLL
And the highly coveted Gold Trophy goes to:
Number 65!

Okay okay, my imaginary trophies don’t compare to one of Penelope’s prints, so good luck everyone. Fantastic effort all round!

Lets all admire the beauty of this jacaranda tree near my house while we attempt to erase all memory of the calamity, that shall from this day forth, be known as “The Sushi Train Incident of 2005; soy and silk don’t mix”.

It all started well enough, me minding my own business, admiring the little plates chugging along the cute little train, while getting lunch at the local sushi train. Then quicker than a blink it ended with me topless in the bathrooms at work, with my dry-clean-only designer apricot coloured silk top in the hand basin, sudsed up to the max with that pink pump hand soap. Then spending ages trying to keep the temperamental blow hand dryer on while I pushed the delicate silk to its limit under the blast of hot hot air.

Stain removed, crisis averted, lousy lunch hour over.
Arh, ain’t that jacaranda pretty…

My Illustration Friday entry for 'remote'.

'Wide brown land' doesn't much sound like an endearing term. But somehow it is.

Some good slang terms for remote:

• In the middle of nowhere
• Beyond the black stump
• The back of Burke
• Out at woop woop
• The outback

One year later and the time has come for guilty quilt number two.
Earlier this year my friend Lacey-t, her husband and belly bump moved interstate to settle down and set up a new home in time for their first baby. Their adorable baby girl was born 7 and a half weeks ago. She has pretty red hair and will surely have a light sprinkle of cute freckles in no time.

Our group of friends all imagined that when the first one of us had a baby we'd all chip in with meal plans, housework visits, and baby minding so the mum could get some rest. We all feel very bad that we can’t be near them at this time to do all that stuff, and also to join in the joy. We get an occasional email from Lacey about how she’s coping with motherhood; the pride and wonderful abundance of love, but also the terrifying unsureness, the exhaustion and the isolation.

I wish we could be there, but right now we can’t, so instead I will sew. Boy Lordy will I sew! These swatches (above) will hopefully become a really cute baby patchwork blanket. Wish me luck. I’ll keep you posted.

I sense a pattern emerging. This time last year I was engulfed in the biggest sewing project of my life so far. It was to be the first of the “guilty quilts”.

My very good friend Henna and her Mr B were married in November last year. (Henna had been one of my friends from high school, and we still hang out together today). They announced the date they were to be married on about 4 months before the date, but unfortunately I had been booked for a job on that very date way back in January of that year. I know how much stress planning a wedding can be, so I didn’t say anything initially, hoping I could work out a way around the problem. But there was no way I could really get out of it. And I knew it.

I felt terrible about not being able to be there for them, and also very upset that I wouldn’t be there to see them be married. Henna was upset when I broke the news to her, but dealt with it very well. The week before the wedding Lacey-T and I went and stayed with her at her parents house like we used to in the old days (they were married there the next weekend). Henna was sweet enough to break the rules; get all dressed up in her replica 60’s ‘Mod’ style wedding dress and boots and little tiara, to show me her outfit. We helped her pick out which jewellery to wear, and got a little teary at how great she looked.

The following weekend there were married in the garden on a hot spring afternoon surrounded by their friends and family, and they partied hard well into the wee hours of the morning. I managed to make it there at midnight and joined in the celebrations.

Earlier, when I first realised that I wouldn’t be able to be at their wedding, I set out to hand make a gift that would hopefully make up for my absence, and help alleviate my guilt. Henna and Mr B met in San Francisco where he is from. Mr B has a special connection with Mexico as he spent much time there and even did aid work at one point, so he took Henna travelling through Mexico. So as far as I was concerned my project had to be Mexican themed.

I set out to make a quilt for them. I researched Mexican, Aztec and Mayan colour schemes, motifs and patterns, and eventually came up with a plan. It took me much much longer than I thought it would. I spent almost every weekend working on it for around 3 months, but the result was much better than I anticipated.

They both loved it, and the best compliment was when Mr B said that everything about it felt familiar (which is nice considering he’s so far away from his home). They told me they would keep it forever, and it would never ever leave their bed. And as far as I know, it hasn’t.

(It did help to alleviate my guilt a little, but I still wish I could have been there).

Check out the fancy cards I got today! I love them.

Oh, and have look at this too if you're into a happy union of art and sewing.

Both of these make me giddy with excitement.

My Illustration Friday entry for 'cold'. (a quick one this week)

There’s nothing more torturous for me than being stuck on a train with someone who decides to start filing their nails. It makes my blood run cold! Fingernails down a blackboard is one thing, but for me nail filing is the ultimate! Don’t ask me why, I think it has something to do with the feeling of the tiny vibrations in the ends of my fingers. I just can’t file my nails (one of the reasons I don’t have fancy nails), and now even seeing or mainly hearing anyone else do it makes my insides squirm, my eyes squint up and my throat go tight. I have to get away.

When getting on the train I try and pick a seat next to someone who doesn’t look like a serial killer, isn’t eating a hamburger first thing in the morning, and isn’t having an intimate but loud conversation on their mobile phone. I tend to choose the neat friendly looking lady gazing out the window (although for some reason in my illo she has taken the form of Peggy Bundy). But more often than not, she’ll get bored, reach into her handbag, rummage a bit and pull out a nail file. eeeeeeeeeeeeee…

Another thing that makes my blood run cold is hard to describe, but it's the squeaking feeling when you drag a wet towel over the clothes line when you’re hanging them out to dry. Actually just grabbing onto them to pull them out of the laundry basket is icky too! Eugghhhh!

It’s similar to my friend Fi, who hates the squeaky feeling of putting your hand into a bag of cotton wool balls.

What makes your blood run cold?

My entry for Penelope's Halloween Draw a Witch contest.

With “eye of newt” sky-rocketing to over $300 a gallon, Greta gathers some of her things together & heads to the local pawn shop.

I’ve been a total sook this week. I really need to try and get some “cred” back after being such a GIRLS BLOWSE.

So, how ‘bout them Jets? Hold that thought while I crack myself a brewski. Hey, pull my finger! It’ll be funny, go on!

Not convinced? Alright then, so get this…

PART 1:
In an effort to alleviate a bit of our collective “our Prime Minister is a dumb un-eco knob” guilt, we’ve made an effort to “green” up our office this year. We’ve been opening the windows and switching off the A/C, we’ve adopted better recycling, we’ve decked the place out with stacks of plants, and we got a bokashi bucket. (This is a type of indoor compost system that works via fermentation). So we feel good about ourselves, but the office has a very stinky corner.

If the bokashi was tended to daily, as it’s supposed to be, it apparently wouldn’t smell, or grow knee-high fungus. But ours isn’t, and it does. In fact it’s dam-right rank! So we keep it sealed tightly shut and dare each other not to gag when we open it to put food scraps inside.
What, with that and the rubber band gun, it’s just like an episode of Jackass!

PART 2:
A couple of weeks ago we got a painter to come in and paint the walls in our office. He told us he’d be able to get it done on Friday and Saturday, so we’d be back to normal on Monday.

Friday: He came in painted a couple of walls and kicked a bucket of white paint over dark grey carpet. I spent the afternoon on the phone begging carpet cleaners to drop everything come immediately.

Saturday: He didn’t turn up. Said he was a bit tired.

Monday: He arrived around 11am STONED OFF HIS NUT, did about 2 hrs work, smiled and nodded a LOT, then disappeared. By this stage we were baffled by our bosses’ patience, but the whole scenario was still pretty laughable and highly amusing. (especially because the painter was up to was the bright orange feature wall, which must have been spinning him right out).

Tuesday: We arrived at work and discovered that the safe had been attacked with a crow bar. They mangled it pretty badly, but didn’t get into it. Once again this was inconvenient, but still pretty humourous considering the only things in the safe are an old contract with an ex-client, and a Microsoft certificate for something outdated. Meanwhile everything of great value, including a room full of computers, laptops, and a few iPods were left untouched.
The painter never showed up that day.

Wednesday: The painter showed up, finished the job and left. Although it seemed suspicious, we ruled him out as the thief for a few logistical reasons, but also because he’s generally way too stoned to have enough co-ordination to even attempt to crack into a safe.

Thursday: No leads.

Friday: The painter shows back up with a friend dressed in a taxi driver's uniform to pick up his gear: paint tins, buckets, rollers, poles, dropsheets and a ladder. Both of them were more ripped than before, and my boss had to coax them out of the lift away from the pretty lights. Once again pretty hilarious.

Today: We notice that the bokashi bucket is missing! So the thief either gave up on the safe and resorted to a bucket of food slops and fungus, OR (and this is a much more likely explanation) the completely stoned painter accidentally took it thinking it was one of his paint buckets.

We laughed so hard today at the thought of him opening the stinky bucket, but being far too wasted to even notice, and probably ending up painting some poor guys wall with the slime within.

Just quietly, I think we're all secretly relieved that the festy bokashi pit of fungus has found a new home.

Oh Geeez. I must seem so ungrateful. Miss May sent me these TWO great CD's, Smitten and Spill, days ago and I haven't even displayed them yet. Getting new music is rockin' my world, especially when it's stuff like this that totally "tickles my fancy". The photo's don't do it justice, but the covers are hand painted pieces of art!

Thanks Miss May, I love them both, but I think today Smitten is my favourite. I was really surprised to find Bumblebeez on Spill, they are a relatively unknown local band from around my parts. It amazes me how some music travels and some doesn't, I can never pick it either.

It's funny, I made my mixed CDs with lots of local music on it to spread it far and wide across the seas, and I got an email back from Vanessa in NC USA telling me about a few of her favourite Australian bands, and she totally GAZUMPED me! I had to "google" them! But sure enough there were two bands from Melbourne I'd never heard of, that have Vanessa as one of their fans. I'll have to check them out next time they're in town.

My Illustration Friday entry for 'lost'.

My illustration this week is a homage to Allison of Cornelian Cherry who has decided to hang up her blogging gloves and focus on other important life goals. I am going to feel truly lost with out her: my internet day just won’t be the same. (Not to mention how lonely my blog will be without her visits and kind comments).

You’ll notice her in my ‘imaginary friends’ links just there on the side bar. These are people I have discovered (feel like I have lots of stuff in common with), have never met, but like to imagine that if we did meet we’d end up as great mates. (I have moments of insufferable optimism. I blame this on watching Care Bears in my youth!).

They are all good fun, you should check them out. Go on, off you go. I’ll wait here.

While patiently waiting, I ponder:
(start ponderous voice over, like in The Secret Life Of Us)
Blogging and everything that goes with it does take up quite a lot of time, especially if you’re trying to squeeze it in around a full day of work, study, and/or child raising, etc. And it is a challenge trying to balance work, spending time with the special people in your life, keeping up hobbies, staying active, eating, sleeping, etc. Particularly if you’re the kind who will only do something if you intend to do it well.

It’s important to be aware of when time is being sapped away from trying to achieve your goals. It can happen so easily. And in these times it is wise to take action before you let your impatient goals give up and slide away.

I feel fortunate that at the moment the hours I sap away online each day bring me into a community of creative, encouraging, inspirational people. I like that this is something that will remain the same no matter where I live. I won’t have to leave you guys behind when Mr You and I finally make the leap to move up north. It’ll be a nice and probably only constant element.

I’ve been thinking about my goals this week, and at the moment I think the main long term is to become a more crafty person, rather than being so office ridden. I want to learn how to live as a crafty person. I’m trying to learn by watching other people online do it, and do it their own way, and succeed. It seems as though this may in fact be a possibility after all. (although at this stage still a long way off and quite uncertain).

It’s amazing how close by you all feel even though you are spread all around the globe, and I look forward to hearing from you all each week.


Are you back yet? Oh good, in summation I just wanted to tell you that I find you all amazingly talented and a great inspiration. So, thank-you!

There was hyperventilation, there was high speed hand flapping, there was jumping on the spot, and even stoically held back tears as Jiang had a complete eniption about the painting I gave her.

I haven't seen anyone that happy about one of my gifts, since I gave Mr You a Playstation for Christmas years and years ago.

It was really cool, and then as I was leaving, she absolutely insisted I accept this little ballerina picture she had on her shelf. (I'm a total sucker when it comes to a prima ballerina). So it all went very well indeed.

Jiang is a very quiet, private, mysterious young lady who comes from China, and works with me. Much to the dismay of her husband, she has recently developed an obsession with all things "shabby chic". You'd never pick it to look at her in her plain jeans and shirts, but under the surface lurks a floral, frilly, pink white and feminine loving fiend.

She has started collecting small antique replicas of tailors mannequins, and spends most of her weekends trawling through various marketplaces. She knows about my crafty side, and we've been bonding over a shared appreciation of pretty fabrics and patchwork. She doesn't have any crafty skills that I know of, and she's always asking me, "could you make that?". When I reply "um, yes, probably" she encourages me to make lots of stuff and become an eBay queen. She sends me a list of links every Friday, to get me inspired.

Her encouragement has given me a little faith, many enterprising thoughts, and makes me feel like I possess some kind of value.

She described a painting of a dress to me that she couldn't afford a while ago, so I've painted this dress for her - Shhh, it's a surprise...
It's not the kind of thing I would normally paint or own, but it's been a wonderful excuse to get all pink and rosey and oh-so-pretty-pretty.
Tonight I'm dropping it off at her house. I hope she likes it.

People seem to be just as curious about pelicans as I am. So while we're on the topic, I dug up this old photo I took when I was in Greece some years ago. (please excuse the terrible scan)

I'd never seen anything like it before, a pink pelican, with a yellow bill perhaps?

It was the same size and shape as a pelican, but it more closely resembled the result of a night of hanky-panky between a frisky pelican and an intoxicated flamingo!

The genes mustn't have melded too well though, as this critter lacked both the grace accustomed to pelicans and the elegance of a flamingo; it was clumsy and pretty manky too.

On a completely unrelated topic, check out this great illustrated card I got from the markets today. Chic and quirky: it will do perfectly for my friends birthday tomorrow.

The artist is Samantha Denmark, and you can find her at Glebe Markets in Sydney if you’re in the area.

My Illustration Friday entry for 'float'.

It’s a feat of nature how pelicans (or pebbley-bums, as my sister calls them) can float, or fly for that matter. They’re so big!

We were up the coast last weekend, and while watching a flock, we shared a very Seinfeld like conversation about how heavy we each thought a pelican would be. I mean on one hand they ARE the size of a dog, and on the other hand they fly and float with grace and ease. In any case they are mesmerising to watch, especially as they ski along the surface of the water with their enormous webbed feet as they come in to land.

We just spent a wonderful long weekend 4hrs north in a costal town called Forster.
Elle and Kilkenny came with us, and we shared a lazy beachside weekend lolling about doing not very much at all.

We saw dolphins swim by everyday, and a lady at the lookout even pointed out some whales to us splashing about out off the coast (they were pretty far away, but it’s my first whale spotting, and I’m feeling pretty satisfied about that).

Within the first hour of being there we hit the local quilt and woodcraft fair, and then moseyed through a very cheap antique shop. We read books and listened to music and chatted and laughed.

We ate fish and chips and oysters and lobster, and drank cold beer. And despite the water still being pretty cold, it looked far too amazing to resist a swim. So we swam.
I forget that you don't have to go far to find breathtaking places, I need to remember that more often.

It must seem like we are always going away on weekends away and holidays, and I guess we have been lately, but it’s not normally like this. I think it’s the Year of the Rooster – bringing promised disruption and change and breaking up routines. All this change seems to be in the air, lots of things moving on and reforming, and if it comes in the form of a lazy getaway, that’s just fine by me.

I’m actually thinking I might like to retire! (oh, if only. he he he).

(more photo's here)

Don't laugh, but I just had a romantic dream about Snoop Dog.

How's that for a paradox? 'Romantic' and 'Snoop Dog'! Don't tell anyone. I'm so embarrassed.

It may not be a love song but this didn't stop me falling in love with this awsome package from the rockin'est Cornelian Cherry.

Not only did I get a copy of her brilliant 'CD Swap 2' CD complete with stunning cover design, I also got 2 bonus CD's, each packed with really really good music (that's been making me very happy).
And not only did I get CD's but I also got sweet stickers!
And an adorable envelope!
And the most perfect quilt impersonating card with a lovely embossed padding effect! (I love the card).

It's all soooo much more than I expected and put me in a hyper-grateful mood for the rest of the week. Thank-you so much Allison. (I'll comment more on the actual music when I've had a couple more listens, but so far I'm really liking all of it, especially 'Cursive').

I actually have been thinking all quilty lately, and have had a pile of fabric and wadding waiting patiently for me to start sewing for about 3 weeks now. I just need to get this other little project I'm working on out of the way first (expect a sneak-peak when I'm done). At least I know I'll have loads of excellent tunes to keep me sew-happy. (heh heh, sorry, bad pun).

See how chirpy I am? And now it's a long weekend! Bring it on.

Thinking about the ‘escape’ theme for Illustration Friday last week reminded me of our last fire alarm at work.

We pried our boss from his email as the alarm rang out across the building. We each checked one another were there, did a quick headcount and hurried in an orderly fashion out the door, down the hallway, into the fire escape, and STOPPED!

We didn’t get more than 5 steps down before being blocked by a wall of elderly bridge players trepidaciously negotiating the stairs. In a fatal design flaw, a bridge (card playing) club occupies the entire first floor of our twelve storey office building, and shares the same fire escape as the other 11 floors.

Two by two they ambled into the stairwell from the floor below us. Clinging onto each other and then handrails on either side, they formed a fragile yet impenetrable cobweb of elderly limbs across the width of the passageway. Now, these are the folk who either zoom into the lifts on their ride on buggies nearly running you down in the process, or inch their way in bit by bit on their zimmer frames, or a best, block the lift doorway from anyone else getting in before the doors close as they hunch over the buttons squinting to find their floor. So, all things considering, they were having immense trouble with the stairs. (Its probably lucky they weren’t on the top floor).

The fire escape quickly filled like a silo of grain, with people pouring into the stairwell from the other 11 floors, and stopping in their tracks. What made it worse was that much like clowns in a mini, the old folk kept on coming! There must have been 300 of them in there, and just when you thought you’d seen the last one, the door would spring back open and another endless stream of them would start up.

Assuming it was a false alarm or drill, everyone remained calm and quite well spirited. There were various muffled giggles from the spiral of people above, and before too long the jokes started:

“Why don’t we each pick one up and run down the stairs”
“How many of them are in there?”
“Shouldn’t they have their own escape hatch, like a firemans pole”
“…or a spiral slippery-dip like at a playground”
“…or one of those inflatable slides they have on planes”
“I’m going back to work”
And even an anonymous panicked “They’re old, they’ve had their life, let us live!”

Eventually the bridge playing battalion made their way out and the rest of us followed. By now (some 12-15 mins later) all sense of urgency was lost – we ignored our meeting points at the designated assembly areas and nicked off to a café.

We found out later on our return, that there had actually been a fire in one of the upper floors of the building. After the shock and mortified silence had passed we decided next time to take the evacuation into our own hands: unravel all our socks, knit the thread into a rope ladder and each climb out the window – which would likely be a much quicker means of escape!

My Illustration Friday entry for 'fresh'.

The smell of freshly cut grass is a new sensation in our household (or gardenhold). We moved into our house just before Winter kicked in this year. Out the back where a patch of grass may have been at one point, were a series of mini replica WW1 bunkers dug into the dirt, with not a sprout of grass to be seen.

When the previous tenants came back to pick some stuff up not long after we'd moved in, the cute little girl of the family asked "Do you have a dog?"
"No, do you?" (living in a rental house we're not suppose to have pets)
"Yes" she replied chirpily
"Oh, is that who dug the holes in the back garden?"
"No, that was our bunny"

Our Winter gardening efforts consisted of flattening the dirt patch out, and filling in the bunny-burrows. Once the worst of the Winter chill had passed we sprinkled some grass seed (which the birds were most delighted about), and lo-and-behold we now have a lovely delicate spindly lawn! It's like magic!

This is the first time we've lived in a place with a garden, so the whole magic of Spring is a very new novelty. Each time I go outside I discover yet another plant has un-expectantly burst into bloom, even ones I thought were nearly dead.
And who knew the tree out the back would transform into an amazing constellation of tiny white flowers?

One of my favourite desk decorations is a card I got from the art gallery some time ago. Accompanied by an adorable illustration, it says:
"Unable to make a decision Cecily made a cup of tea instead".

If I ever had to sum myself up in 50 words or less, this is what I'd write.

(is that the kettle boiling I hear? excuse me a minute...)

So, I’m not the most girly of girls when it comes to the regimes of beauty, skin care, hair care and fancy nails. I’ll admit I dye my hair, have more products than I need for this and that, and I can’t remember the last time I left the house without at least a quick lashing of mascara, but I like to think I don’t fall for gimmicks.

I maintain a healthy cynicism when those ads come on t.v. touting the newest “technologies” from the “institutes”.

t.v.: “…noticeably lengthens your lashes up to 3 times”
me: “HA! And how, prey-tell does it do that?”

t.v.: “…a new ultra shine lip gloss with actual diamond shine particles, for real diamond shine”
me: “ Real diamond shine particles? What is a diamond shine particle exactly? Who’d fall for that?”

t.v.: “…new foundation with added caffeine to wake up your skin!”
me: “Marketing team comes to the rescue after Beryl spills her coffee in the mixing cylinder.”

But every now and then, in a moment of weakness (usually after accruing a new wrinkle), I get sucked in…

… BIG TIME!

It’s mega. It’s plump. It’s hot. It’s pouting. According to Jonni on the packet “Plump lips are soooo sexy”, AND claims “…to keep you healthy looking and beautiful forever”.

And I tell you, it really works!
Well, it sort of works… …it might work.
Okay okay, I can’t see any difference… at all.
So I’m a mega, plump, hot, pouting sucker.

Mr You couldn’t believe I put it on for the first time yesterday morning, he thought he could notice plumpness already. “You’re crazy! You should have tried it on a weekend first. What if it kicks in half way through the day while you’re at work, and something hideous occurs!? Like on The Nutty Professor.”

He ogled my lips intently, waiting for some kind of sudden movement. Then, as I attempted to kiss him goodbye, he held me at arms length with all his might.
“Stay away, I don’t want that stuff on my lips!”
There was a struggle and then some chasing, but eventually I landed a kiss square on his forehead.

Then I headed off to work feeling “sooooo sexy”, leaving him fearing the sudden onset of a plump luscious lump in the middle of his forehead for the rest of the day. Worth every cent I tell you.

My Illustration Friday entry for 'escape'.

Just this last weekend we had an escape of our very own. We spent the weekend moseying through the Blue Mountains. I spent my high school years there, so it was a bit reminiscent for me. We had a great weekend and managed to do so many things without feeling like we were rushed or cramming things in and it was all very relaxing.

I took Mr You to a spot I remembered from back then called the Mushroom Tunnel. It’s an old disused railway line that leads into a tunnel right in the side of a hill, and you have to walk through the bush to find it. I was amazed how I was able to remember the way after all these years, just from a visual map somewhere in the depths of my memory. I remembered the creek, and the hill, but also subtle things like a fallen log, and the flatness of a certain area. It’s an amazing sight: a railway tunnel entrance made from large sandstone blocks, that hasn’t been used in close to 100 years, buried deep in the bush.

We also managed to go to an incredible lookout, we happened upon a craft market with fresh strawberries the size of golf balls, bumped into some dear old friends, looked at lots of little galleries and craft shops, and had coffee and bread and butter pudding in a quaint café in one of the many cute villages.

The next morning we got up bright and early and headed down out of the mountains to the ‘Trash & Treasure’ markets in the suburbs. We packed our car until it bulged, and we’re thinking of going back for another go in the not too distant future.
I tell you, only the deep suburbs can do ‘Trash & Treasure’ markets like they can!

(OOPSY! I gave it away there. Yes, unfortunately, we were actually travelling in a green car, not a purple patchwork balloon. There’s always a next time.)

Have you seen this Ex Girlfriend Project thing yet? I'm so hooked, I can't explain it yet, it's just compelling.

It's like all the things you've always wanted to tell people but never have.
And at the same time hearing all the truths you always wished people would have just told you, but never did.

Remember blog etiquette though, especially with this one, I'd die if he had to stop before the end. Like I said, I'm hooked.

(Tip: There's a "read this first" on the right, to give it all better context).

One of my favourite passages from The Alchemist comes at a point in the book when the boy and the alchemist have been riding through the desert for four long days, and have been speaking about the quest to realising your dreams:


"So what should I do now?" the boy asked.
"Continue in the direction of the Pyramids," said the alchemist. "And continue to pay heed to the omens. Your heart is still capable of showing you where your treasure is."
"Is that the one thing I still needed to know?"
"No," the alchemist answered. "What you still need to know is this: before a dream is realised, the Soul of the World tests everything that was learned along the way. It does this not because it is evil, but so that we can, in addition to realising our dreams, master the lessons we've learned as we've moved toward that dream. That's the point at which most people give up. It's the point at which, as we say in the language of the desert, one 'dies of thirst just when the palm trees have appeared on the horizon.'
"Every search begins with beginners luck. And every search ends with the victor's being severly tested."
The boy remembered an old proverb from his country. It said that the darkest hour of the night came just before the dawn.


Dreams come every day, some are small and can be achieved in a few moments, some dreams last years, some a lifetime. The darkest hour could last a blink, or much longer, it's all proportional. Holding out for the dawn is what makes it worth while.

My Illustration Friday entry for 'depth'.

The journey, while delving into your psyche, sometimes seems endless…
The deeper you go, the more depth you uncover, and the deeper you need to reach. The depths are daunting, and right now I feel like I’m running out of air. Dizzy and desperately wanting to gasp.
But eventually the pressure will fade, and you’ll reach a place to breath again.