In the vernacular...

 Are we done yet?  

As you know, Gentle Readers, I started this blog way back when my father died.  I just sat down at the computer, started typing and off we went.  The iniquities of the Real Estate industry, the humour of dealing with various bureaucracies, the frustration of trying to clean out somebody's life whilst on crutches.  You know.  Standard stuff.

I didn't mourn him, not at all.  I hadn't spoken to him for 27 years.  I mourned the idea of him, what I wanted my father to be like, what he was like before it all turned to dren, when I was about 8, and I didn't miss him, because for the 27 years since I'd seen him, I'd had so many other things going on that I didn't miss the heartache and the sorrow he caused us all, just by being.

On the other side of that coin, I spoke to my mother nearly every day.  I could ring her up just to hear her say "I was just going to ring you, you must be psychotic" (obviously an oldie but a goody), or to say "how do I do xzy", or to ask how her beautiful garden was, or how the dogs were.

Every single day I go to pick up that phone to ring her.  Just to say "our flowering gum is about to pop", "our new native gardenia has 5 new flowers on it", "should I put my hydrangea in a pot", "how do I stitch the backing for this cot quilt together", even stupidly mundane stuff like "what are you having for dinner, we're having pizza".  My mother believed we lived off pizza, and no matter how many times I told her it was only once a week, I don't think she ever believed it.

So, what do I miss?  Every single thing.  And I'm struggling with the quickness of it, the speed with which she went, leaving us all shell shocked, though I don't know why, she never was one to hang around prevaricating.

She was so much a part of my crafting life.  She inspired me to start, she helped me cut out that first skirt, back in 1993, on the floor.  She patiently explained to me what the selvedges were, what grain was, how to align the pattern with the edge of the fabric. Every single thing in my sewing room, and even the room itself is down to her.  And, sadly, Gentle Readers, just the writing of this has reduced me to tears.  Crafting, my parents and this blog are so intertwined that I don't think I can do it anymore.

I think this will be my last post.  Perhaps for some time, perhaps for good.  We'll see.  I hope to see you if I return, with a new project, and my heart somewhat less sad.

Ciao.

See that train acomin'?

In my lifetime my mother taught herself how to crochet, make latch hook rugs, do hardanger, drawn thread work, and silk flower embroidery.  She learnt water-colour painting, china painting and charcoal sketching.  She knew how to knit for adults and babies, make clothes, make magnificent quilts, do stunning Jacobean embroidery, Crewel embroidery, counted cross-stitch, Assisi work, Blackwork, stumpwork, and tapestry, and teach, with the patience of Job, others to do the same.  

My lovely Ma left us for Quilt Heaven on the 4th November 2012.  Quilt heaven, is, by all accounts, a place where the bobbin never runs out on your sewing machine, you always have the perfect colour thread to finish what you're making, you always have exactly the right supplies you need, in a room with the right amount of light, the right height cutting tables, the right scissors and rulers, new blades on your rotary cutter, a Magic Pudding** of fabric, and all the time in the world.  

You never, ever, have to stop, to eat, shower, dress, cook, clean, eliminate, buy food, pay bills, buy clothes, drive to hospitals, doctor's appointments, chemo, pathology, x-ray... There's no vomiting, no pain, no struggle to breathe, just peace, quiet and quilting.

I see her now, teaching the Angels to make mitey* corners.  Make lots of noise up there, Chook, they need to learn some new techniques.

**For those of you not familiar with Norman Lindsay, here's the story.
*Yes I know it's "mitred" but Tractor Jo always says "Mitey", and so it shall remain.

4.53am

So, Gentle Readers, here we are again.  4.53am, a big day in front of me and the elusiveness of sleep running round in my head like a trainwreck waiting to happen.

In happier news, the very lovely Miss Blue Lambb sent me a photo of the huge success that was the eReader cover:

Edited to add:  Found it on my tablet.  Told you it was worth waiting for, didn't I?

Yes, it's somewhere in the ether.  Either on my tablet, my phone or at work.  It looked really good though.  Honest.

What else?  The chair progresses, slowly, presumably the threat of being covered in lighter fluid and set on fire has spurred me on to being close to finishing the damn' thing:

Don't get too excited, it's only pinned.  Next week, all things being equal, I will hand stitch the top on, then staple the underneath, then cover that with calico, and then I will cover it with lighter fluid and set fire to it.  Just kidding.  I think.

In news of slightly less exciting-ness, I'm off to Perth tonight, on the good old 1750 QF587, and Mr Golightly is following on Friday.  Keep your fingers and toes crossed for me, Gentle Readers, as we deal with medical madness once more.

And now?  Breakfast, I think.  (And in case you were thinking you had it all under control, here's something to consider - 2 months today is Christmas Day.  Yeehaw.)

Ciao!

skulls versus skills

This post is brought to you by the letter 'E' for effort, 'S' for skill, 'H' for hours of work and 'R' for repeated goes at getting this bloody thing right...

A cover for an eReader was requested by the lovely Miss Blue Lambb - she wanted something that could be closed over the reader, with elastic straps for the reader to slot into - so...

A pair of fabric pieces stitched together with the elastic between then, then quilted onto the matching lining piece, then quilt the outside piece onto the quilted calico inner liner, then add in a magnetic clasp, then make a strap, adding in the other piece of the magnetic clasp, stitch that onto the back of the cover, then stitch the lining and outer cover together... turn it all outside, topstitch it all to close the turning hole and ...
voila!

Now.  Did I mention that I had to make it twice?  I cut it out to the size of the measurements Miss BlueLamb gave me, then realised that it would be too small once it was made - so I made a pouch for her out of the leftovers...

In other news of unparalleled excitement, I've given up my day off once a fortnight, and now I'm working one day a week from home - apparently... so far it's only happened once in the last two weeks, but I'm making damn sure it's going to happen from now on.  

One of my colleagues is making me a little crazy, but I'm working on that... and I've been getting a bit of sleep, which is nice - and given that my colleague is making me crazy, it's probably just as well.

And now, back to old episodes of The Guardian.  Ciao!

Morecombe, Mumbai, Malden

Well, hello there!  I love seeing the list of cities and countries that pop up down the bottom of my blog - it's actual proof that there is life on other planets... 

I've been busy doing the usual frack, working, driving, sleeping... and yet more sleeping.  I've booked in for a sleep study on Tuesday, after seeing the specialist.  Lovely man, probably the nicest doctor I've ever dealt with.  You know sometimes they can be arrogant pricks?  Not this one.  He took a comprehensive history of my sleeping habits, the increasing need to sleep at weird and wonderful times, and the constant tiredness.  Words like 'snoring', 'loud vigorous snoring' and 'snorting' were discussed, along with the couple of times in my life when I've woken up feeling completely paralysed - it's a weird feeling - apparently you're actually not awake, you just think you are.  

Anyway, the word 'narcolepsy' was eventually raised, along with the doctor's eyebrows, especially when he heard about me having to have sleep in the carpark before starting work (lucky for me it's an underground carpark) because I've barely been able to keep my eyes open on the drive in...

I try to go to be in bed by 10.00pm most nights, and the alarm used to go off at 0530, and I'd be out the door by 0630.  Now, I can't even wake up till about 0620, and sometimes I go back to sleep and wake up at 0700, meaning I don't get to work until 0900.  It sucks. 

In other exciting news, I made a 1600 Quilt - using the very beautiful Lumiere De Noel fabrics from moda - one of my favourites.  I've left it at My Lovely Ma's, because I'm avoiding the 20 year long tradition of Festival of the Boot at The Boxes, and I'm going back to Perth for another long weekend, leaving Poor Mr Golightly behind.    Mixed blessings, hey?

And now, Gentle Readers, it's time for bed.  Buona notte!

You naughty girl...

Well, here's a bit of news, Gentle Readers... I snuck out today (note:  it's the second Tuesday, so I'm not at work)... up to a purveyor of electrical goods, and run a covetous hand over the Asus Transformer Pad... and then I... bought one.

You know I've never had any luck with getting the Samsung Tab to work with Blogger, and yet, here we are, working away.  The Font & Size icons work just beautifully, but I can't out how to get a picture out of Google Images into the text yet... but I'm on it.

So.  Anybody want to buy my Samsung Tablet?  Going cheap!

Ciao!

Third time is enemy action...

On Tuesdays once a fortnight, I don't go to work.  I stay at home, and do stuff like this:

Ah, perfect day.  A second visit to the Doctor, lunch with my lovely MIL, sewing, putting the bins out, finding my wallet, tube of mascara, phone case and a knitting needle under the passenger seat in the car, buying dinner, proofreading a story written by Master H, a spot of Spooks (season 8, Mr Golightly being somewhat behindhand with his viewing) and then some knitting.

Tomorrow I have to go back to the August Institution, even though my lovely Dottoressa* gave me another two days off to deal with the lingering lurgy, and I will be finishing the performance reviews for my team.  That's the only reason I'm going in, really.  Otherwise I could be at home making more elephants.

I wish.

Ciao!