Mothers Day.

Here is the mother's day card I received today from my 7 year old son. The dominant theme appears to be "ways mum neglects us"- drawing, painting, sculpting - juxtaposed with a secondary, more insect  related theme - a mid air supremacy battle between a bee and dragon fly. I just love getting my hand made cards from the children (the fresh copy of Paris Vogue didn't hurt either) but especially this year as it was starting to look doubtful. On Wednesday I had heard the "hushed' arguments between my 12 year old daughter and her little brother. My poor girl had just been deluged with assignment due dates for school and, worried she would not have time for card making, was trying to ensure her brother would do one. Disagreements ensued, voices raised and then I hear the words no mother wants to hear from their little boy's sweet lips "So when will I get the money?"...Hmmmmm. 

I did have to intervene and explain no one wants a card under those circumstances and we all let the vexed situation pass. So it was with delight today I recieved a handmade card from each  - both produced under just the right conditions. Awwwwww... 

Brooch Swap.

Hello. It's been a little while for me since engaged in blog world. Lots of study commitments to get through (made it though - hooray!) and lots of illness (not hooray). Not to worry, have found my way back in today by engaging with this exciting idea I found at flowerpress.blogspot of a brooch swap. I've been thinking of making some brooches once time allows and more lately becoming quite excited by the idea (as you do). Also I've never done a swap before and that's got to be fun so why hold back? Also Susie is allowing lots of time in the deadline which gives me heaps of confidence. Mind you I pretty much just wanna start now. First things first though. Think I might have a little look around  all the sites I follow and see what I've been missing out on. See you there :)

Whinge Alert: Medium Level Complaints.

This is not a happy post.

At least it wasn't on Monday morning when I begun it. However a visit to my acupuncturist, a gorgeous Chinese woman named Mei, who with her deft fingers and magic pins, shifted the previously unshifting virus so that what seemed hopeless on Monday morning is no longer quite so. I had all but given up hopes of study. But now realise I'm still hanging in. Week four and not beaten. Which is good - this is a dream to be studying visual art. And yet....there are problems. And seeings this is a dedicated whinge post why waste it? Here it goes then...I am struggling badly with a life size clay sculpture of  myself (the head part that is). Week four and I'm still getting nowhere. I have photos of it but have too much pride to post them. I hinted to the teacher that I have an odd and particularly difficult face that didn't lend itself to clay replica in the hope she would say "Yes,  I see what you are saying, just do the best with what you have, bravo you!" but she wasn't buying it. All I got was some gentle suggestions and experienced direction. The cheek! Printmaking is also a struggle. The pace is fast and I feel like the only one in the class without any lino cutting experience and without the time and energy to gain it. It's frustrating. I know in the face of circumstances I can't change that what I most need is an attitude change but for the moment pride is getting in the way....

Maybe I just need a cup of tea.

Image and brooch by Amy Borrell.

Rejection.

My little boy has just turned Seven and is all into his Dad at the moment, not so much me. He just puts up with my hugs and cuddles at most. He only wants Dad to read him stories. Last night I went in to to say goodnight after Dad had finished reading and turned out the light. I crept in. "Goodnight Archie" I said softly and hopefully, giving the little bundle a quick cuddle. He growled and out from underneath the sheets came his cross little voice "Oh look! See this is why I can't get to sleep at night!". Which reminds me of a bit of a shameful incident a couple of weeks back. I'd counselled myself that I couldn't keep forcing hugs on him, would find a different way to love him until he was ready to appreciate me again as the parent of choice. As I walked up the hall I decided I would not feel rejected but instead sit at his bedside and explain that much to his relief I would not be forcing cuddles on him anymore but would still be loving him and when he was ready to cuddle again to just come and get one. "Ahhh" he shrieked when he saw me come into his room and hid under the sheets. I lost my patience. "You know Archie" I said crossly "There are some little boys in the world who don't even have a mother to cuddle them!"

"Oh dear" came my partner's reproach from his station at the computer. I know, I know.....

Letter To The Future me.

Popping over to Shades of Whim the other day I discovered this great idea you can use in lieu of a new year's resolution list. Just write a letter to yourself at Future Me as if the year is over and you've achieved what you wanted and they will email it back to you in a years time or any other date you choose - however long you think is needed to make the ideas in the letter a reality. I enjoyed Shade of Whim's letter so much I was moved to write my own. After much thought and deep soul searching this is what I came up with: 

Dear Future Me,

W.O.W! I've got to hand it to you. While everyone warned against that controversial drug therapy, overseen by that disgraced former football star-cum-immunologist, you just forged ahead with confidence. And look at you now! The health you've always dreamt of having! It's funny though isn't it? I imagined you  increasing your study load - or at least finishing all those creative projects sitting around the house - not ditching art school altogether. Still, what an inspired move - spending that small mid year lotto windfall on boxed sets of all your favourite TV shows and then parking yourself on the lounge. Sure some people think you're wasting your life but what, with the side effects of that drug therapy being weight loss and collagen production you're suddenly looking ten years younger instead...

Love to see what you come up with!

The Crap Parent Award.

Wow, two awards in one week! First the Versatile Blogger Award and now The Crap Parent Award which I have awarded to my partner and myself for the following incidents.

- Driving our daughter and her friends home accross town from band rehearsals in a car with a clutch about to give. Limping home in the dark having to restart the car every time gears need changing. Of course the kids loved the drama. "We thought we were going to die!!!" my daughter's friend gleefully told her mother, having to be picked up from our place where the trip was finally aborted.

- Sending our daughter off on the state band tour at 7.30 in the morning sans trumpet. Daughter's friend's dad (who is chauffering because our car has dodgy clutch) rings up at destination in panic "Missing a trumpet!".

- Discover later on that father of daughter's friend has also stopped en route at bakery for danish pastry when our daughter announces no one has fed her that morning.

We accept our Crap Parent Award as duly deserved and are happy to pass it on to whom ever else feels worthy.

Why?

Bad News. The junior school has seen fit to install a sand pit. I thought the days of picking up my son and 2kg of sand everyday in his shoes was a thing of the past. Why would the school do that to me? Why? Why?????

Hope. Spring. Maternal.

Ah Spring! Thank goodness you are here. Late. A bit chilly. But still here you are! All is forgiven as you melt the misery of this recent and difficult winter away. Some little thank-yous are necessary. Thankyou to my mum and dad who, while always helpful, really stepped things up these last three months taking the kids to school in the mornings and picking them up again in the afternoon with a grocery run thrown in between. Dad rescuing my sick car last month and mum making sure I  had a spare meal in the fridge and a fresh load of laundry out on the line. Not to mention working a bit of her magic in the house. Remember Bewitched and how Samantha Stevens could twitch her nose and go into a speed clean that had the house clean in twenty seconds whenever Darren called to say he was bringing clients home for dinner and the house was a total mess with only a few minutes till they arrived? Thats my mother. Without the nose twitching. Or the cocktail dress. One minute it's like a bomb has gone off in the kitchen and the next minute it's clean. I don't know how it's done but I sure am grateful. It's one thing to be sick but to be sick in a house that has no order is another thing entirely.

Other thank -you's: my intended of the last thirteen years for picking up the slack without complaint and dear friends who make everything seem brighter - even if it is with dark humour! Thankyou!!!

Dear Virus.

Dear Flu Virus,
When you first arrived over two months ago now I wasn't happy about it but thought I would keep my feelings to myself and just bear out your time with grace. I didn't complain that you had turned up uninvited or bring up the bad time we had the last time you stayed. I didn't mention how my kids resent you or how awkward it is having you suck up all my energy and attention when they need it more. I guess the first real problems began when I said I would put you up for a while but not to expect me to change my plans for you. I made it clear that I would be continuing to go about my activities and that my children needs would be coming first. I think that's when you really took offence and decided to make your presence truly felt. All of a sudden we were doing what YOU wanted, when YOU wanted it. Eating what YOU wanted to eat. Sleeping when YOU wanted to sleep. Spending insane amounts of MY money at the chemist (btw you've never paid me back). Even when I tried to sneak out to class on weeknights I found you had tagged along, then set about distracting me the whole time I was there. In the end it was just easier not to go and now I'm behind. In short it was all about YOU. But tolerence has it's limits. That's why I am writing this and hoping my message gets through loud and clear: you are not welcome. When I wake up tommorrow morning I want you gone and  I don't want to find a single trace of you left behind.
Please......

New Cat On The Block.

Poor Cat. It hasn't been the easiest few months for her. Not only did she come to stay with someone who was paranoid about the risks of Kitty Litter on a compromised immune system but she had moved into a neighborhood where a nasty clique of Mean Cats roamed. These Mean Cats started up an intimidation campaign almost immediately. They would approach right up onto our deck as she innocently sunned herself on a deck chair. A warning hiss would bring me to the window where I would bang on the pane to scare these shameless intruders (I swear one was the size of a small lion) away. They gave her no peace. On Monday we noticed something hideous on her back leg. Suspecting she'd been attacked by a small lion we took her to the vet. It turned out out she had been attacked but probably a couple of weeks ago resulting in a hideous abscess. This would require a $380 operation, a shunt inserted and some antibiotics. All things considered I decided that this was not a good place for Poor Cat to convalesce. It was decided Poor Cat would be far more comfortable with original owner Grandma in her cosy unit, cutting short the proposed six month stay. And there she is, beside herself I am told, with comfort. Back to being the House Cat she originally was with her doting carers. Smart Cat. How could something so good come from something so nasty she probably asks herself as she enjoys the civilised life, catching sight of the shunt in her leg. And all it cost was $380 (insert strained smile here)...

July Is A Battle.

Illness I can't shake.

And this cold dark July weather.

Fortunately, and miraculously, the fashion photography by Paolo Reversi in the June issue of British Vogue reaches out to me with it's soft colours

as though rendered in chalky pastels.

A place to rest tired eyes.

Sucked In By Billie Bones.

Have you seen Billie Bones on TV yet? He's a plastic skeleton delivered to your house bone by bone in weekly instalments alongside a magazine booklet full of interesting facts about the human body. Suitable for young kids. Aimed in fact at young kids. Probably mostly six year old boys like the one in our house. I was oblivious until Billie's elaborately packaged skull turned up to the house the other day with my mother. Archie had somehow spied it in the local newsagent and told his Grandmother all about the fantastic series you could collect and guess what? This introductory offer of skull and magazine - which comes with a life size poster of Billy and all twenty of Billie's teeth which you get to insert yourself  - is yours for only $2.95. That's right, you heard correct. Only $2.95. Trouble is all instalments after that are $11.95. So if you end up collecting all of Billie's bones to build his life size (six year old) skeleton plus his vital organs you will have forked out $320.

I had to sit Archie down and explain that that would not be happening. Luckily Archie understands the concept of things being "too spensive" and we settled on getting the next instalment so that Billie could have his eyeballs and brain and then leave it at that. Imagine our upset then when we get the next lot and it contains the two eyeballs but only the right hemisphere of Billie's brain. Turns out the left hemisphere is going to cost another $11.95. Maybe, I say, Billie can just have half a brain. He will be very creative without any reasoning skills. No, says Archie, you can't have half a brain. Well, I say, the human brain is very amazing and can sometimes compensate for parts that have been lost. In fact researchers estimate we only use up to 10 % of our brain anyway and that the cells we do use are very adaptable and  plastic. And in Billie's case actual plastic. No. Archie's not buying it. He shakes Billie's skull and the lone hemisphere rattles away inside.  I can't say I blame him. We need closure. Billy needs closure. We commit to installment 3. That's it though. I swear.

The Magic Garage (aka The Wardrobe Project).

So here is the vintage wardrobe Ruby and I 'rescued' from the Salvos for a not small amount of cash ($130 to be exact). OMG, we said upon discovery, it is exactly what we are after. We'll just sand it back and paint it white and that will be it. After all that is all there is to furniture restoration right? First things first though, we'll have it delivered to my Dad's garage and work on it there. Dad knows a bit about these things. He'll 'guide' us. Plus, it has to be said, he does have a very special garage- for example it has been known to exhibit magical properties. Sometimes you can leave one of your trickier projects in there and when you return the next day it's done. I know, it's amazing. Elves, I expect. But I will tell you now - I am not relying on the elves. This wardrobe is to be a learning curve for me. Will post regular pictures of our hard work. And hard work it might be - it seems the previous owners gave it a decorative paint finish using some unknown medium. Super glue perhaps? 

More Yellow (Is there ever enough?).

via

via

My Elk beads.

via

Easter biccies from my neighbor.

The weather in Canberra has been heavenly these last few weeks. Clear blue skies and crisp autumn air - perfect for hanging around the tennis courts with a book as my six year old enjoys the pee-wee holiday camp. I watch on at adjacent courts as fit retirees play mixed doubles and then adjourn to the gardened areas for thermos tea and home baked treats. What could be more ideal than that???

Frenzied and Feverish at the Lifeline Bookfair.

It can only speak to my love of both a bargain and books and magazines that I managed to get up early yesterday and brave the Lifeline Book fair queue despite being in the midst of a really evil flu. This is a date that has been marked on the calendar for months and eagerly anticipated by Ruby and myself all week - not going was not an option. But boy was it worth it. I can't tell you what we spent (really I can't - it's been pushed to the darkest recess of my brain unaccessable by anyone but the most skilled hypnotist) and anyway I like to think of it as an investment. After all when I am done with the many lifestyle and fashion mags I can sell them on ebay can't I? Or else cut them up into a fetching collage. Even stack them into a clever room divider when relatives come to visit.

It's a funny atmosphere at the fair though. Bookish sorts queueing for hours as though tickets for some world class rock band are on the verge of selling out. They set themselves up on little chairs. They have their thermos of tea. I say they becuase Ruby and I are far more relaxed about it. All we had was a snack and a book to keep our mind off the wait. And our little granny shopper to quickly wheel our stash out when we finnish. But everyone had those and you've gotta level out the playing field haven't you?

Once the doors opened and the crowd got moving you could feel the effort this well read crowd was exerting not to be pushy - no hurry, enough books in there for everyone! - seemed to be the outward message but meanwhile a competitive undercurrent was barely being suppressed. It was as if they were thinking "What if I get in the door and just as I suss out the magazine section someone is walking away with Italian Vogues???" Okay, maybe that was just me. 

In the end you know there are not going to be any Italian Vogues but you hope all the same because that's what is so exciting about the book fair - walking in is like an Aladdin's cave and amazing bargains are to be had. Ultimately I did end up with a few UK Vogues - though they were old and had lots of cut outs (who would do such a thing??) - but was thrilled to find some Frankie mags in mint condition plus some copies of Inside Out  to add to my collection. Once the little Granny shopper was full I went to the kids section where Ruby had elatedly bagged lots of cool titles she had been wanting to read. The whole exercise hadn't taken long but by that point I was feverish with flu and the strange magazine frenzy which had taken me over only minutes before (leading, I imagine, to the dud British Vogues finding their way into the granny shopper). I was sweating uncomfortably and for a moment thought I might faint. "Let's go" I said to Ruby, totally over it, grabbing a couple of mint condition Notebook magazines from a nearby box as I passed (they often have a great craft article....). We paid up and lugged our loot back to the car. It was a gorgeous Canberra Autumn day, crisp aired and blue skied. Instead of going home we stopped in civic. The city was all athrong on this sunshiney week day  and so, picking a few of our bookfair finds out of the boot, we chose the cafe with the comfiest cushions and the most flavoursome coffee and made ourselves at home. Heaven!

(Photo source).

Mummy's Muffins Made With Love.

Archie has always loved the muffins I make. That's because I make them with love I told him as I packed them in his lunch box. Now all of a sudden they have "too much flour" in them and come home unfinnished. I adjust the recipe - less flour, more oil, more love. Better eat them, I tell him, cos they're made with extra love. They come home uneaten. Still too much flour he tells me. Archie, I say, I am running out of things to put in your lunch box, dont be so fussy, eat the muffins and anyway they are made with love. Archie's teacher calls me over at pick up time. She is concerned. It seems everytime Archie goes to eat his muffin he begins to gag and retch and has to run the toilet. Too much flour I tell her. I think it's best, she says, if you stop sending them to school. I agree, sad of course as I love to make the muffins, making them with love as I do. But maybe we will try some pikelets. And lucky for us the school holidays - which will give me time to find just the right pikelet recipe. One that can handle the amount of love I'm going to be smothering in...

photo source

Hooray For Holidays (and Elizabeth Peyton).

Hooray, holidays are here and I have a huge (unrealistic) list of things I want to achieve. Ruby and I had a lucky find at the salvos last weekend - the wardrobe we have been searching for to replace the baby one she grew out of ages ago. Of course it was a little more than we wanted to pay  - I know! Even the Salvos get what vintage is worth now :(   - and is going to take a lot of sanding and repainting  -ugh! - but I know it will be worth it when it's all shiny white and bright...I just know it will make her want to hang her clothes up rather than toss them on the floor, I do, I just..er.. .know it....

Other things on the list are getting back to some sewing projects (the ones that have been sitting around sadly waiting for some attention while I got on with the study) and finally do a huge declutter and subsequent ebay blitz. Am totally motivated to do this because there are some great art books Iwould just love to buy with the proceeds. That's right folks I am totally motivated...once I get rid of the post assessment evil virus that just had to pop up it's ugly head the minute I got through...wouldn't you know it? Anyway will post some beautiful pictures from the beautiful book I want to buy with projected ebay earnings. It's called Forever Young from an exhibition of  luminous paintings by Elizabeth Peyton. Can you recognise any of her famous subjects?

Assessment time.

A great Easter weekend - weather gorgeous, food yummy - though somewhat marred by thoughts of assessment looming on Wednesday and the work not getting done for it. However just had a successful two hours and hopefully have broken the back of what needs to be provided at the 'interview' style assessment (gulp!) session. Keep picturing my favourite little corner of the house and my retro coffee table with a lovely cup of tea waiting for me when it's all over....

Crush On Yellow Continues Unabated.

This week in continued devotion to yellow I have:

Bought a great Elk bracelet up at our local florist ....

...sprayed an old mirror yellow and hung it up in the hall...

...drank from my favourite glass, a gift from friend Jodie...

...wished badly for a wall done in this flocked wallpaper!

[source]

High School Reunion 3

What a shock. High School Reunion committee has imploded with resignation of Chair. Reunion cancelled. Suggestions Chair has made off with Reunion Dinner fund. Say goodbye to $70 early bird payment. Reflect yet again on Chair's unhappy time at high school as most bullied student, his subsequent name change and motivation to be organising said reunion in first place.

Reflect on what this means for self. Find urgency to establish status career has lessened somewhat and decide to call off job hunt. Must be content as trophy wife for time being.