Ten

Oh my giddy Aunt. How did that happen? One minute I’m boarding a plane headed Heathrow-ward clutching a passport with a whopping great ‘FIANCÉE’ stamped within its pages, (not a passport stamp or title I ever quite envisaged), then the next minute, fellow fiancé and I are dropping three anklebiters off to grandparents and driving off into the sunset to celebrate ten years of married ‘us’.

I never considered myself the marrying type. As it happens, I fell truly, madly, deeply, for a guy with geographical, as well as commitment issues...

Me: All we have to do is this: I return to London, we get married and see if we like each other enough to be together. If it doesn’t work, we get divorced, I come back to Melbourne. Simple!

Him: Three seconds of hyperventilation prior to the sound of a disconnecting phone.

Excellently, there was a leap of faith and he eventually came ’round. And I couldn’t think of anyone lovelier to have opposite a table at a long-time favourite restaurant, or next to me eating cinema choc tops while watching Up in the Air (so worth a look), or sharing newspapers over breakfast at an old haunt, or doing silly dancing twirl-arounds in the back garden.

Happy anniversary Us.


PS. Just to keep things real, the Mr has informed me the invoice for his Felty Tomato services is in the post.

My Creative Space: Chewiest Club Sandwich

I should admit at some point that I can do Drama Queen theatrics with the best of ’em. Throw in my Guinness World Records Slowest Crafter in the Known Omniverse title, the need to stitch twenty felty sandwiches with a somewhat looming deadline and I’ll eventually get around to admitting I’m also prone to STARTLING procrastination of the scrubbing-tile-grouting-with-a-toothbrush kind.



I’m nearly there. One round of bread to go.



I wouldn’t be nearly there, were it not for the Mr. The Mr sensed the potential for high drama and volunteered to help. This jaw definitively hit the floor once he clarified his understanding that ‘helping’ necessitated learning to sew.

What a legend. The Mr can cut felt and foam and backstitch and blanket stitch with the best of ’em. Just call him Master of the Felty Tomato.



While not exactly shouting his new talent from rooftops or even inviting his mates to the pub to chin wag the intricacies of an evenly spaced stitch, I have theories there was enjoyment. I have theories there is ‘chuffed’.



But mostly on the inside.

PS. Go in search of more My Creative Space husband craft via Kirsty’s ace place (and she’s taking nature craft to a whole ’nother level!)...

PPS. You can make your own felty sandwich – find the tutorial on the sidebar over there on the right...

My Summer Holiday: A Random Muddling of Musings (Not Exactly the Inevitable First Day Back at School Homework Essay)

Musing One
It feels like I have been holidaying forever but it was basically all an excuse to eat an indecent amount of ice cream. One time I ordered a lemon gelati because the words of a (male) friend echoed in my ears: a moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips. Watching everyone else tuck into creamy swirls punctuated by chocolatey nutty goodness was too much to bear. I vow never again to waste calories destined for ice cream on gelati.

Musing Two
Despite slatherings of ‘sunscream’, beach umbrellas, hats and long-sleeved shirts, we were tricked by the delicious sea breeze and the cool salt water and spent way too long out in 43 degrees. And I thought I had sun protection sussed. Some of the sting went away when the heavens opened and the rain came and the kids danced (yet to explain rain dances generally happen before the main event).



Musing Three
We have beachcombed basically to the moon and back, only horizontally. The middle kid could muddle together an entire seal skeleton if he tried, but the award for Most Interesting Holiday Find goes to the eldest. Thinking she was assisting the middle kid with the construction of his seal, she gleefully handed him half a human upper denture. To my disgust, the Mr has brought it home, in order to impress Grandma. In the meanwhile, every now and then I wonder if washed-up-on-the-rocks-denture-finding is something a responsible citizen should consider reporting to, er, someone?

Musing Four
I presumed no one would be overly excited about denture or bits of seal pics, but to be true to the spirit of the holiday it is necessary to include alternative images of to-be-forever-treasured (sigh) collections:

The observant will note the inclusion of a sock. The laundry collection hardly looks different once pockets have been emptied and you scale things up to Everest-like proportion:



Collector Kid found his feathers at the local wild life park. While everyone fed cassowaries and kangaroos, he looked on wistfully, unable to let go of his two-hour grip for fear of losing wispy lorikeet bottom feathers:





Collector Kid had nothing to do with the missing heads. In fact he felt most sorry for the deadness of the headless:



Collector Kid turns midwife to hatchling ladybirds:



Thank goodness for an occasional bit of collection non-challenge. Couldn’t face the pongy dead crab bits.



Musing Five
On the crafty front, I made twenty kazillion felt sandwiches. Or twenty. Or nearly twenty. I’m still going. I could break any World’s Slowest Crafting record and end up in the Guinness Book of Records. This would at least be more dignified than winning World’s Longest and Thickest and Curliest and How Do You Do Anything(?) Fingernails.

That lovely STARLET lady at M* had recently, gorgeously gifted me Simple Jug Covers by Vicki Moodie. Melanie is already half-responsible (I’m also blaming this lady) for inspiring the neverending granny squaring and now the pulse-quickening obsession with jug covers. Who would have thunk it.



I can relate to Mel’s appreciation of the tinkling glass bead clink against the side of a jug. So I went and appreciated all over again:



Tragically, I ran out of tinkling clinking things to attach to crocheted circles. Inspired by the so very talented Susanna, I turned to guerilla crafting the rented holiday house garden. Pretty tricky stuff with three kid helpers and one of them climbing on your head. Some breezes were gustier than others and some leaves more fragile. Sometimes I cheated and worked on them indoors. Take one look at Susanna’s stunning work and you’ll see how embarrassingly clumsy and clunky these efforts are:





The ones I like best, are those that live on the trees in various states of completion (depending on whether kid was on head):





Musing Six
Oh and this happened:



Except I knew it was happening and stayed stum and didn’t care. The others were reading a bedtime story and I was having such a nice time with a glass of wine and a newspaper and things were oh so quiet and still. Plus she has the softest skin.



The End

Hold On A Tick...

I’m just going to hold that clock still for a smidge or two longer. Time to take a moment for a spot of reflection, taking stock, breathing it all quietly in before a great filling-the-lungs breath and jumping with both feet in to a whole new decade. I’ve been remembering to stop and reflect on things. From a crafty perspective, I can’t help but conclude that I could have done with moderating the obsessive tendencies and introducing a little more sleep...





This morning I received the saddest of news from a friend. It arrived via text message and I have re-read it many times, understanding the depth of loss; marvelling at the good and beauty found in the tragic. It was a heck of a reminder that the moment is precious.

It’s a whole new moment, new day, new year.



I wish you every kind of wonderful.