Hold on to your pink bits: actual knitting content!

Yes, it's true - I've been a-knitting! I seriously think the heat must have addled my brain. For there can be no other reason why, in 41 C heat, I would have picked up the needles to cast on for this little beauty. It's from the Phildar Tendances Automne 05/06 magazine. Only available en francais, more's the pity.

Of course, I’m making some mods to it (sounds like I’m talking about a car!). I’m ditching the wrappy belty thing, which really doesn’t work for me on the grounds that (a) I’m not a big look of the ‘jumper tied around the waist even though you're kinda wearing the entire jumper’ look and (b) it would really do nothing for my sad, scarred, bulging mummy-tummy. Stomach. Must. Stay. Hidden. From. View. At. All. Times. Otherwise little children might get scared. Instead, I’ve done about 14cms of knit 2 purl 2 rib at the bottom. Because, you know, when it’s the middle of summer, what else would a body want to do except mindlessly rib-rib-rib-away?

Yes, I am mad. However, this top shall look fabulous in all it’s ribby glory. Huzzah! And I've already completed the back, and am three quarters of the way though the top. Double huzzah!

PS I'd show a progress shot, but I lost the photos - dang! So you'll just have to imagine the black yarny goodness for yourselves.

Sweet about my peep

Check out my peep! I got him a while ago from the amazingly talented Sarah at The Small Object (whaddya waiting for - quick, go check her out!), and I have a major case of peep infatuation going on. What's not to love - he's adorable, with that cheeky smile beaming down at me from the buffet. Best of all is how he looks of an evening, when we have the candles behind him going. Speaking of, does anybody have any idea at all how I'm going to get all the melted wax out of the bottom of the candle holders? Ach, it's a mystery to me.

I'm liking this stage of my life. The Galumph and I are finally able, with some careful planning and serious budgeting, to squirrel away some money, and start getting some nice things for our home. After much research and traisping around of shops, we got some new furniture, and my goodness was it a RELIEF to get rid of all the junk we'd had since we were starving uni students (The kitchen chairs with holes in the seats - gone! The blue desk with paint flaking off and broken shelves - gone! The breakfast table that wobbled and had cracked tiles, and was only used as a dumping ground for sewing stuff - gone!). Some of that furniture definitely had some bad energy emanating from it, and I'm glad it's gone. We just dumped it outside of our house, and it disappeared in a matter of minutes. There must be some major second (or maybe, considering how old and beat up our stuff was, 10th-) hand furniture vultures hovering around our street. Anyhow, the old stuff is gone to begin a new chapter, and we've finally got some lovely stuff to keep us company over the years, until we are all old, falling apart, and in dire need of a coat of varnish. And my peep looks awesome sitting on top of our brand spanking new buffet. Rawk!

Catch up

Finally, I am back in the blogging world, after a week of being internet deprived! No thanks to our internet provider who kept insisting something was wrong at our end even though Galumph the ubercomputer geek had checked everything over with a fine tooth comb, and declared it to be their end, which of course it was. I didn't realise how heavily internet dependant I was until it was gone, gone, gone!

Anyhoo, the above are the clutches I made for the Blogettogether. It was a blast - so many lovely people, it was great to meet all the crafting peeps! And gifts were AWESOME! Thanks to everybody who went and/or organised it. I had a ball!

Rightio, enough prattling on - I've got Oscar gowns to perv at! So far Cate looks the best.

Today I am sore

I think the first sentence of this article says it all: Strong winds gusting up to 100 km per hour have lashed Melbourne... And the Galumph made me ride in it! 40 km! Look at his shirt for peeps' sake: that's major billowing action! At one stage we'd stopped for a rest, and decided to wait for some people to ride by before we got back on our bikes. After standing there for three minutes, waiting for them to ever so slowly peddle on by, I remarked to Galumph "Geez, how slow are they going!" "Oh!", he replied, "that's about how slow we are today." Right. Ahem.

So today I'm walking around like a bandy legged cowboy. With a pretty bad case of saddle bum, to boot. And I'm suspecting that the bit of colour in my face, as my Dad always so eloquently calls sunburn, isn't from the sun at all. It's WINDBURN.

How was your weekend?

I hate vomit

Especially pumpkin-based vomit. Man, that stuff really stains! Poor old Grumbles. Hopefully this will teach her not to strain so hard when she poos that she chunders at the same time.

Sneak peek

Here's the trial version of the clutch purse that I'm making for the Melbourne crafty bloggers get together thingy. Trial's the right word for it, too. I've learnt the hard way that putting the hot iron onto the polyester blend ribbon means SIZZLE! See the smudge? Sigh. I've artfully hidden the melted hole in the ribbon for the photo, but that smudge just ain't moving. Thank goodness I did a prototype for me, and didn't wreck any destined as gifts. Now that would have been embarassing.

I'm getting a bit nervous about this crafty meetup. What if nobody likes my clutches? What if nobody likes me? I bet I knock something over, or spill a drink on somebody's gorgeous outfit, or fart at an inopportune moment or do something ridiculous, thus inviting the ridicule of the blogging world forever. Oh well. If worst comes to worst and I do trip, spill, make smells and do some godawful braying laugh, then I can always go home to a bottle of wine and Bridget Jones on DVD and reflect that, unlike the first day of school where you come home in tears and know that you still have four more years of this horror ahead of you, I never have to go back again.

Wedded bliss

The Galumph and I went to a fantastic wedding on Saturday. There we are, sunning ourselves in the Botanic Gardens afterwards, prior to nipping over for a few drinks at The Botanical. Talk about swish! I nearly keeled over at the cocktail prices. Lemon squashes all around for us budget-minded folks, I'm afraid, but the ambience was cooooooool.

After ducking home for a bit to see how the Motherinlawship was coping with Grumbles, we hit the reception. Tell you what, when a Vietnamese fellow marries an Italian girl, you can bet your bottom dollar that the food is going to be mighty fine. I'm surprised I managed to hit the dance floor after pigging out on the nine courses, but waddle on over I did. And then, after getting home just before the stroke of midnight, we had chocolate croissants for breakfast. I felt like a gourmet version of the Cookie Monster. Shovel, shovel, shovel. Burp.

Ahhhh! A most excellent weekend.

Can I possibly stop at six?

Oooow! I just got poked by Alicia to do the 6 Weird Things meme. Only six?

1 – I have to put my left shoe on before my right shoe. If I don’t, then all manner of bad things may happen to me, so I just don’t take the risk.

2 – Often my dreams come true. However, it’s usually in an oddly mundane sort of way, like I’ll dream that I was standing talking to my friend Derek next to the stingray tank at the aquarium, and he will make a joke about being in a car crash, and then I’ll wake up and think: Odd. Haven’t seen Derek in ages, and why were we at the aquarium? Fast forward two years, and bang, there we are, chatting away in front of the rays, and he’ll make the joke. Sometimes, if the dream was really impressive, I can actually recite along with the person, although I try not to do that anymore because past experience has taught me that it really freaks people out.

If only it came in useful, like dreaming winning Tattslotto numbers, or predicting the future in an accurate way. Actually, now that I’ve just typed that, I think I prefer not to know. Except for the lotto numbers. That would be handy.

3 – I often talk to myself as I daydream. Terribly embarrassing when I get busted for it. If anybody ever mentions that they saw me on the street, my first terrible thought is “Oh god, was I talking to myself when they spotted me? No wonder they haven’t called in months!”

4 – My little toes are permanently swollen and very pink with chilblains, and look hideous. Thankfully they curl under my second-little toes, thus ensuring the world isn’t subject to the freakishness. Makes it damn hard to put nail polish on them, though. (Hee hee, if I ever want to gross out my husband, I just wave those scary toes in his general direction. Makes him jump every time!)

5 – If I’m having a dinner party, you can almost set your watch by the time it takes me to get stressed and then lose the plot, and become really cranky. My good, dear husband knows now to leave me alone to have my strop, and when he thinks the coast is clear, he’ll come back into the kitchen and pour me a nice big glass of something containing alcohol, and gently remind me that these people are our friends, so let’s all relax, hmmm? (He learned the hard way, poor thing, that saying “Nobody is going to enjoy food that wasn’t prepared with love!” is NOT the best thing to say to me whilst I'm in the midst of stropdom.)

6 – I adore baths. In fact, I’ve been known to take three baths in a day. Nothing like swishing around in all that hot water to beat all problems, I say! However, since we are in stage three water restrictions, I have had to curtail my baths severely. In fact, I haven’t had one since Christmas day (and only then because I had a whopping headache), and I’m in the midst of a bath-deprivation induced crisis! My joints feel stiff and achy, and my knees are cracking like it’s going out of fashion. Ahh, the things I suffer for the common good (swooning onto couch in act of noble selflessness).

Rightio. That’s done. I tag anybody who feels like doing it!

I'm melting, I'm melting!

If there's one thing this heat has taught me, it's that I really need to get cracking on sewing some more summer dresses. I've worn my spotty orange number three days in a row now (yes, stinky). However, it's far too hot to sew. It's even too hot to jump on the tram with toddler in tow to go fabric shopping (you know things are dire indeed when it's too hot to shop!)

Grumbles checking out the Butterfly house at the zoo on the weekend. Awwwww!

Exposing myself, and lettuce recipes, all in one post!

Study of Grumbles eating her lunch. Because, really, there's not that much going on around here. It's just too hot. Eew. I'm not a big fan of the heat, which is why when it gets really hot, Grumbles and I just hang out at home, as we've done all this week. Except for Monday, when we went shopping with Shannon and Joanne. Fun, enjoyable day, until Grumbles hit the tired wall, and turned into toddler from hell. I'm still not sure if the highlight was her spilling her milkshake all over (and I mean ALL OVER) Cookie, or pulling down the front of my top, therefore exposing me to the whole restaurant. (Did you guys see that? I really hope you didn't, although I would understand if you decided to refrain from being my friend. Waaaaaaah!). So. Note to self: Stop wearing lowish-cut tops. You don't have the bosom for it, anyway.

Right. I'm off to plan the menu for tomorrow night's dinner party. I think that for the salad course I'll do Bibb Lettuce with Butter Dressing. Not only does it sound darn refreshing, but the recipe is from the 1920s, which gives it a nifty value all of it's own. As the Gourmet cookbook says, "When all the elements come together in the right way, this salad is a revelation!". Geez. Who am I to argue with that? Bring the revelation on!

Hot in the city (the heat, that is, not me!)

Forgive the tired, glazed look. It's been rather warm here the last few days, and our house is an oven, which makes it a little bit hard to get a decent nights sleep. At least I'm feeling cool and funky in my brand new top!

Geez, everybody is making them! I highly recommend this pattern - it doesn't use too much fabric, takes only a few hours, and is just challenging enough to save me from being bored. I've already got another cut out and ready to go, and plans for about 6 others swirling around the old noggin.

Project specs

Pattern - Simplicity 4589, Style F in size 6

Fabric - From the Belle range by Amy Butler for Rowan

There's a spot over here...

You would think, wouldn't you, that after completing a fashion design course, that I would have the sense to read the instructions of a cute little dress pattern properly, and remember to cut TWO on fold, rather than one.

You would also think that even if I did only cut one, I would look at the amount of fabric in the ruffles which were to be sewn onto the dress, and think "Hmmm, that sure doesn't look right!" and then do something about it.

And you would think that the something I would do about it would not consist of throwing my hands in the air and saying "What the heck, I'm sure it will fit!"

Alas, you would be wrong. But at least you're not incredibly STUPID like me, who had spent the better part of a few days sewing what eventually amounted to a sack. True, it was a sack in gorgeous fabric, with ruffles to boot, but a sack, nonetheless. The shame, the shame! However, the trusty ol' quick-un-pick came to the rescue, and I had fabric to spare, so Grumbles is now resplendant in a very airy summery frock. And I have learnt to always double check the cutting instructions. Till next time, at least.

Project specs:
Pattern: Underdress pattern from Ottobre magazine, 1/2005
Fabric: Lightweight cotton (Um, don't remember it's name, but it came from Patchwork on Central Park!)

PS The uniquely positioned headband was her idea, I swear.

Talking 'bout a resolution

How rude - giving myself a Christmas blogging break without notifying you all. Sheesh! So I'll make amends by telling you my resolutions for 2007. Feel free to whack me if I don't keep them:

- Eat better. Salads with every meal, if suitable.

- Eat breakfast. I must really get out of the habit of slurping down a coffee in front of the computer first thing in the morning, then rushing off to shower, get laundry on, wash dishes etc then find myself starving at 11 o'clock. So this morning it was Nutella on toast followed by bananas and passionfruit with yoghurt. Burp.

- Try not to waste food. It's a crime that every week I throw sad old vegies away because I wasn't organised enough to use them. Tch, tch.

- Get fit. More walks, more swims. I started off well yesterday - we all rode to Kew, stopped for a swim at Kew Rec Centre, then rode home via Pho Dzung on Victoria St. I love, love, love that rice noodle soup! Terribly sore bum, though. And I fell asleep on the bed despite telling Galumph that I was just resting my eyes for a moment or two. Bwahahah! Worn out!

I think that's quite enough to go on with. Bonne Année, everybody!

Everybody should have a jacket with a giraffe on the pocket

It took me a little while to realise exactly what this object in front of me was. I'd dragged out every reference tome I could lay my hands on - from the Encyclopedic World Atlas to The Biology of Microrganisms by Brock et al, to (in desperation by this stage) Name That Flower by Clark and Lee. I held it up to the light, I sniffed at it cautiously, I even spoke to it in two languages, hoping against hope that I could figure it out.

Then, ever so slowly, a distant memory sluggishly made it's way to the surface of my murky old grey matter. This, my friends, was a FINISHED OBJECT! A finished Tweeeeeedy jacket, to be precise! And it only took me 8 months to make it (ahem).

Project specs:
Pattern - Tweedy Giraffe Jacket by Phildar, from the Tricotez Calin Automne/Hiver 2002
Yarn - Legende in Rubis and Jeans
Needles - 3mm and 5mm

I love this jacket - it's so supercute that I'm almost tempted to make one for myself! I think Grumbles likes it too - she kept trying to feed the giraffe with the biscuit I'd bribed her with so she'd stay still - awwwww!

A bag for the bag

I think I am in dire need of a new bag. My current one has a hole so big in it that it looks like a big gaping mouth. “Hello”, it seems to be saying. “Remember me? I’m your bag! Let’s go to the pub – it’s been a while since I came home stinking of ciggies and spilt beer.”

As you can see, my bag also is a smart arse with an attitude problem. Actually, no, it's been a good and faithful companion. Really, it has barely complained at all about all the stuff it has been made to lug around, including dirty bibs, notebooks, address books, far too many receipts, stale old jellybeans that so far I have been too lazy to take out even though they are rolling around the bottom, bottles of formula and the odd nappy (unused). And that hole is just the beginning. The cotton is so thin and distressed that another week and there will be six more holes like it. I'm not sure if I'll be able to stand the slander from all those mouths (Why didn't you take better care of us? Hey fellas, I guess an old bag like us is only fit for an old bag like her! Bwahahahahahahahah!)

So, peoples of the internet: Any bag suggestions?

I'm too old to crash on the floor

Oi there, Tiger. Off the boat now. I don't even know whose boat this is, let alone why we're clamouring all over it (actually, one of our party knows the owners, but still!), so off we get.

Besides, we've got Hanukah to celebrate at Grandad and Buba's place. Lots of food, and even more ducking of the pschyco minor bird that shall be hell bent on swooping anybody who ventures into the backyard, let alone anywhere near it's nest. And then, just for fun, you're going to miss your afternoon sleep, become exceedingly over-tired, and then insist on sleeping with us tonight. Normally I don't mind that so much - it is, after all, a very pure and wonderful pleasure to wake in the middle of the night, and hear your soft breathing, and know that all is well in our little world - but tonight we've got Poppa staying with us, and he's sleeping in our bed, which means that if you want to sleep with us then Galumph and I will have to be in sleeping bags on the floor of your room, because there's simply no room on the couch for anybody else, no matter how small they are.

Oh no: the waterworks have started in earnest. You really want us near. Okay, my love. I'll trade you one cold, hard floor for a cessation of tears. Deal? Deal. Sleep well, tiger.

Christmas has come early!

Sometimes, as I’m busy inside, doing whatever it is I’m doing whilst Grumbles has her sleep, I’ll hear the vrooooooom-vroom-vroom of the mailman’s motorbike. The mail’s come! Hooray! What surprises does it have in store for me today? However – this poses a dilemma. A decision has to be made – do I creep out and gather it up, at the risk of waking up Grumbles (and cursing myself, every single time, for not oiling our very squeaky front door), or do I wait patiently inside, then hold her hand as we go out together? Oh, the tussle between patience and temptation!

I can bitterly inform you that it is a terrible disappointment to do the not-so-quiet creep, waking up Grumbles in the process, to be rewarded with the likes of… a CityWater bill. Yay. And another from the electricity company. Hmmm. And oh look, just to really cheer me up, our credit card statement. And Grumbles, well, grumbling in her bedroom.

“You woke me up for CityWater? Jeeeeez, Mum” her cranky red face will say. “I had at least another 40 minutes of sleep in me, or would have if you didn’t insist of galumphing around, gathering bills. No more craft time for you! Plus I’m going to be a grump for the rest of the afternoon. Not really worth it now, huh?”

So it is with much pleasure that I show you my mail box spoils today! And the best bit is that, being a parcel, it was delivered early by the contractor guy, rather than the regular mailman, so no waking up of anybody. Huzzah!





Snazzy notebook holder, with a lovely new notebook, so I can write down all my ideas, and then one day turn them into a publishing sensation, and some sweet photos of Grumbles taken by her office mate. Shannon, you RAWK! The best internet blogging friend a girl could ever wish for!

Why I'm not quite myself today.

The last day or two I've been a complete mess. A big nose-honking, blubbering mess. Why? I've just read The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger. I started reading it on Tuesday evening, finished the night off with a huge bawl, and then, once the Galumph had gone to work on Wednesday morning, placed Grumbles in front of a Playschool DVD (which I let her watch TWICE in a row! Oh, the shame) whilst I sat in the hallway, still wrapped in my husband's dressing gown, and heavingly sobbed my way through the rest of it. Even just thinking about it now is making me go all teary. Poor Henry. Poor Clare. And she was just so... true. And good. Much better than I think I could ever be if my husband was a time traveller who kept popping off to goodness knows where, and sometimes I had to wait for years before I would see him again. I would be so angry, and tired, tired, tired from it all.

So the main feeling has been that of fragileness. It's been a while since I was dragged through the works like that by a book. In fact, not since I finished The Pursuit of Love by Nancy Mitford have I been so broken up. I spent so much of last night just rolling over to give the Galumph big tight cuddles, until he finally put his hands on my shoulders and said "Honey, I'm not a time traveller. I'm not going anywhere!" "I know", I sniffled back. But then the phone rang at 11:30, with some guy from the UK calling Galumph about a critical work problem. He was gone for quite a while, so when he finally crawled back into bed I mumbled triumphantly "You DO time travel - you've just been in Bristol for a hour, and left me all alone!" Poor old Galumph. He had no answer for that one.

Anyhoo, brilliant book. Although I hope there's no sequel or anything. Ms Niffenegger, I just don't know how much more my poor, squeezed-out heart could take. Now I must go and rub moisturiser on my sad red nose. Next time I read a book that unleashes Niagra Falls, I'm going to honk away on a good quality hankerchief, not recycled toilet paper like I did this time. Good for the environment, not so good for the schnoz.

Also, I think I might print out Alicia's marvellous summer reading list, then hit the second-hand bookstore this afternoon. Sucker for punishment, I know.

It's beginning to look a.... ahh, you know the rest

I am totally rocking the Christmas spirit. Check it out:

Stars in the hallway...


...table decorations...


...and, of course, our very own snazzy match box Advent calendar.


Excuse the blurry photos. Two coffees in the morning, and I'm all shake, shake, shake! Either that, or I'm just waaaaaaay too full of the Christmas spirit. Or I have Parkinson's. Eeew.

(I know it's a bit late in the day to be making Advent calendars, but you can find some awesome ideas over here!)

Can you believe this was my husband's first concert!

I never again want to find myself in such a large space with some many sugared up children again. It was madness. It was chaos. It was a Wiggles concert.


Actually, it wasn't too bad. The new Yellow Wiggle was pretty good, although he sadly lacks those Peter Gallagher-esque eyebrows of Greg that I loved so much. And Grumbles was supremely well behaved (read: completely overwhelmed), and quietly sat eating her dates and raisons whilst every single other child in the entire arena ate chips and lollies.

But never mind the songs, or the dancing, or the choreography - the best fun was watching the two mums with four boys between them, who we had the good fortune to be sitting behind, continually slapping the kids everytime they slapped their brothers. "I've TOLD you not to smack your BROTHER!" Thwack. Thwack.

Classic.