Let The Sun Shine Down

The past weekend had just terrible weather. Rain, wind, awfully cloudy - the perfect weather to stay inside. And craft! On both Saturday and Sunday I just sat myself down in front of the TV, had my favourite DVD’s going, and got down to some hectic crafting.

On Saturday I finally got around to decorating some photo frames. I’ve been doing these things for donkeys years, and find it very therapeutic to sand and glue and all of those fun things. A side effect of this is covering myself in PVA glue. And no, I’m not a kinky crafter. I’m just exceptionally clumsy. Although, even when doing something that you think you could do in your sleep, you still have the capacity to learn new things. 

Lesson #1087 – An unco person with long legs sitting at a short table should NOT balance their cup of coffee on the aforementioned short table. Chaos ensues.

On Sunday I got my embroidering on. It all seemed like such a good idea. I have a funky OVAL embroidery hoop, some great fabric (remnants from my muu-muu), and a great design as a basis. Embroidery fail. It looks pretty dodgy. The stencil was of a cassette tape, and with my enviable stitching skills I’ve somehow ended up with a cassette tape that looks furry. It’s quite reminiscent of Meret Oppenheim’s surrealist/dada furry teacup. Not really the look I was going for, but at least it shows that I’ve remembered SOMETHING from year 11 art.

And now for something exciting…. *drum roll*…. turning trixie is going to be collaborating with the very talented Elyse Hendry to create some super cute appliqué designs. Elyse and I go way back (to when we were both newbies at TAFE), and over the years I’ve seen her go from strength to strength with her illustration work. She also answered my SOS during a html disaster I was experiencing, but that’s another story. She has kindly allowed me to nick some of her illustrations to make into little stitchy items, and hopefully I can do them justice!

Sarah’s Super Awesome DVD List For Crafting:

• Ghostbusters
• Blues Brothers 
• Scrubs
• Spaced
• Run Fat Boy Run
• Shaun Of The Dead
• The Big Nothing (in other words, pretty much anything with Simon Pegg in it)
• Black Books
• Ghostbusters II

We Have Nothing To Fear But Fear Itself... Or Something Like That

A few nights ago I was reading the latest blog offering on Verity Clothing, and at the end of the post she is discussing irrational fears. It got my mind ticking over about irrational fears, especially this part:

“Immediately after my shriek, my husband ran in thinking that I was getting murdered. He asked me later why I had screamed like that. I assured him that I had no control over what I did, or what sounds issued from me. Irrational fears are just that: irrational.”

The whole post was rather amusing, as it is when you don’t understand people’s fears, and don’t actually have them yourself. However, I have been subject to torment by people who find my own irrational fears funny, and I’m here to tell you – stop it. Whilst seeing me shrieking and flailing may tickle your fancy, and taking photos of me in such a state might float your boat, my fancy remains untickled, and my boat, sadly, is not floating. I try to take it in good humour, but really… there’s only so much a girl can take.

Irrational Fear #1: Feet

Do not put your feet near me. Do not attempt to touch my feet. Do not touch things of mine with your feet. Do not pick things up with your feet, and then pass them to me. Especially do not put your feet on my pillow – this just leads to extra laundering duties for me. During a bit of a play-fight with my old housemate, I had slapped him on the arm, and then run away. I suppose, having initiated the fight, I should have anticipated him to up the ante. But seriously, he plays dirty. He cornered me in our kitchen, and pointed his filthy, socked foot at me. I shrieked and squealed, possibly flailed, and then tried to stop flailing as it meant that I moved closer to his foot. Stopping mid-flail isn’t easy though. He also threatened to take his sock off and throw it at me. Vocal cords hoarse from extended shrieking, shaken, and no longer in a playing mood, I begged for a truce. Truce thus reached, I retreated and kept on my best behaviour. For at least an hour or two.

Irrational Fear #2: Big fish

Big fish give me the heeby-jeebies in a big way. They’re so big, and how small are their brains?? It’s not natural. I swear, every time I see one it’s just plotting a way to get out of its tank, or the ocean, and it’s figuring out a way to come and get me. I swear it is. There’s some sort of conspiracy going on here, and I don’t like it at all. The idea of giant squid has also plagued me over the years. They’re so BIG. In fact, one might even go as far as to say that they’re giant. But they’re squid. The whole thing just messes with my head.

FOOTNOTE: Ok, I was just reading an article on giant squid so that I could present you, my incredulous readers, with some giant squid facts so that you could understand and share my fear. All that I think I’ve done, though, is scare myself more. I also gagged just a minute ago. All this time I’ve been scared of giant squid (and yes, yes, I’m quite aware of the low likelihood of ever coming across one, but hey – irrational), and now I learn that there’s actually a bigger squid out there. A COLLOSAL squid. Holy Mary mother of God. Note to self: Never read about giant squid again.

Be Still My Bleeding Heart

This will be my first soapbox blog post. It’s something that’s close to my bleeding heart – animal welfare. I’ve always been very fond of animals – to the point that I’m quite convinced that I’ll end up as a crazy cat lady. And in my more maudlin moments, I imagine a Bridget Jones-esque scenario involving me dying alone in an apartment and being eaten by cats, as opposed to Alsatians.

For a while now I’ve been volunteering at the RSPCA in Burnie, which only has small animals like cats, rabbits and guinea pigs. It’s actually a lot of fun for the most part. I help clean out the cages and in the meantime get lots of cuddles from animals. My motivation for helping them out wasn’t completely selfless though. My own cat still lives in NSW, and I miss her terribly. Her name is Torrance, but is more often known as Fatty. She has a very changeable temperament, drools far too much, and is known to seek revenge when she is cranky. But I love her – drool and all. So the RSPCA gives me time to chill with cats and get some quality animal hugging time in.

But as much as I enjoy working there, it can be pretty upsetting as well. I’m quite the sensitive young lady, and just can’t believe how some people treat their animals. And I haven’t even seen any of the abuse cases yet – I’ve only come across plain and simple stupidity.

There are lots of reasons why the RSPCA ends up with these animals, but the bottom line is that these little critters are just waiting for somebody to take them home to a loving and caring environment.

One fellow in particular has really gotten his rarely used claws into my heart (and his fur all over my black t-shirt). His name is Mouse, he’s 3 years old, and he’s blind. Mouse is just the coolest guy. His blindness doesn’t seem to bother him or intimidate him. As soon as his cage is opened, Mouse strolls out into the corridor to check things out. He loves exploring, and always comes back to have a quick rub up against your legs just to check out what you’re doing. He’s brave, friendly, and loves a good cuddle.

I’m really worried about him though. People come into the shelter wanting to pick kittens, or at the very least, an animal without an impediment. And especially coming into kitten season – Mouse is going to be overlooked. What I don’t think people see is that he’s actually pretty independent, and looks out for himself.

Basically, what I wanted to say in this post is that if you’re going to be getting an animal at any point, please consider getting it from a shelter, and don’t discount animals just because of their age. Breeders are always going to manage to sell their animals, but some animals sit in shelters for months, without a home to go to. As for the older animals – they have just as much personality as the babies, require less training (in the case of cats, they’re already house-trained), and have a lot going for them.

*climb off soapbox*

The Manchester Set

So for the past week I’ve been working on projects from my lovely new book, “Sew La Tea Do”, by Pip Lincolne (of Meet Me At Mikes fame). I love this book as much as the first Meet Me At Mikes book. Everything from the projects to the layout of the book itself, to the wording and imagery is just dandy. It’s all very yum. I only have one small grievance with this new book – small being the key word. I was all excited about the fact that it had a few clothes patterns, and set about making a dress from it. The excitement ended around the point that I realised unless I shrunk about 6 inches, and took in a few inches from my sides, this whole thing wasn’t quite going to work. The patterns have small-medium, or medium-large sizing on it, but the medium to large is not happening for anybody over a size 10. Or 5 feet. It’s ESPECIALLY not happening for “girls who like dessert” (quote taken from the eloquent Michelle Walker). Anyway, slightly downhearted I finished what I like to think of as the manchester dress. It’s fashioned from a bed sheet and a pillow case, and cost me a princely sum of approximately 80 cents.

My second project is a super easy cushion cover made from a bed sheet (ahhh, do you see a theme emerging?), and a men’s pyjama top. I feel ridiculously proud of this little piece. As I mentioned, it is stupidly easy, and takes about 20 minutes to do. However, lately I’ve been questioning my sewing ability and pattern-matching skills. I was worried that something that seemed so easy, that I’d picked fabulous fabrics for, was going to end up like something I’d vomited during some sort of creative frenzy trip. But it didn’t *insert celebratory message here*. It’s ever so cute, and did I mention – it’s easy as pie.

And the piece de resistance… my manchester muu-muu. Yes, that’s right – I made a Homer Simpson dress. When I started making what was initially a tunic dress, I thought ah-ha. Pip Lincolne, I’m onto you and your sizing. So I measured the pattern, measured myself, added a little bit extra for comfort, and felt quite smug with myself the whole time. I think you can guess what happened. Basically, it looks like I’ve just draped a sheet over myself and called it a dress. Luckily I took my muu-muu into Stitch ‘N’ Bitch the other night, and some of the dress-making prodigies in there helped me figure out how to make it into something a bit more presentable. So, one day, I’ll get around to making those adjustments.

I’m also working on some goodies to be sold (hopefully) at a craft market that some of the Stitch ‘N’ Bitch girls are organising. It’s going to be starting at the end of November, and promises to be a bit of fun. Organised little gal that I am, I’ve written all sorts of list and plans for it. Now I just have to make the stuff. Hurrah!