Poppalina

Knitting prank

So here's a cute thing that Tom Hanks did for Julia Roberts. I say he did it – but of course, all the hard work was done by the costumier. Twelve hours of set up, not including shopping!

The best line is Tom's: 'You can forget about smoking now.'

Eyelet necklace

I'm loving my new necklace.

I got it from the lovely Kathy at Buttonmania <www.buttonmania.com.au> in Melbourne, who designed and makes them herself.

Made from what must be hundreds of eyelets, on an elastic strand 156 cm around (that's 1.7 yards to you Americans), you can double or triple it up, twist and knot it around - it's very versatile. Mine's pink, but you can get lots of other colours too.

I'm partial to statement jewellery, and this definitely fits the bill. I had four separate compliments on it the other day.

Dirty Dogs

This was the park last week. (Funny looking sheep, don't you think?)

No, it's not meant to be wetlands; that area is intended for playing games, lazing about and flying kites on.

Ruby, who was staying with us, ran around in circles at high speed through all the water, which she thought was hilarious.

It doesn't show in this shot, but she's black with mud underneath.

And the Pea, who normally eschews any water like it's something unspeakably nasty (she doesn't even like walking on dewy grass), found something to roll in.

It was baths all round when we got home.

This stunning flower we found on a walk a couple of months ago; it was the size of my hand. Too pretty not to share.

Crafty business

Some friends have a fashion label, Baraka, and a new store, Baraka HQ. They are in the process of making the store the place to be for all kinds of things besides a lovely place to shop, with craft classes, a book club, story readings, movie nights and much more.

I mention this purely to show you some pictures I took of a kid's t-shirt printing class, which was going on in the next room from the book club I attended. (We were discussing Jean Rhys's Wide Sargasso Sea, if you're interested; which is very much worth a look.)

Masterpieces created on the day included: a charming lady robot,

four siblings;

but my personal favourite was the shark.

Specifically, the proportional size of the tiny fish's eye at the realization of what appears to be imminent.

In other news, last night I went to a yarn swap at the best yarn shop that sells coffee (or cafe that sells yarn) in Sydney, A Coffee & a Yarn. Ok, maybe the only, but it's still good.

I took a bag full of balls from my stash that I was unlikely to ever use, and came back with ... these:

Nice, huh?

My inheritance

This Christmas, I started taking photos of some of the beautiful textiles in my grandmother's home. Then it occurred to me that I don't really have a record of her personal style. Photos taken in her various homes throughout her life have mainly been of people. That's important too, but one of the things I dearly love about my grandma is the way she puts objects together in a room.

The way she'll disguise the ugliness of a heater, for instance, by surrounding it with so many lovely things, you no longer even notice it's there.

I missed the opportunity to record her decorative style with the gorgeous house she and my grandpa had when I was growing up. I've missed it with the smaller house they moved to when the old place became too much to handle. I'm left with the tiny flat she lives in now that she's a widow and 91 years old.

But it still speaks so strongly of her and her unique aesthetic. I look at what she does, and I see love.

Eviction

 

 

And so it came to pass that, after recent verbal assurances that I could stay living in my house as long as I wished, and an enthusiastic go ahead to get chickens and really commit to living here...

I received a notice to vacate. Within 8 weeks.

Never trust a landlord. I really should have that tattooed on my forehead. Backwards, so I can read it clearly when I look in the mirror.

I sat in the no-longer-mine-but-still-beautiful chicken coop with my mental but much-loved brood and cried. For 3 days. Someone should have taken a photo. They could use it to put me away forever.

Then I dried my eyes and hit the streets.

Which precipitated still more crying. Honestly, the things people have the audacity to call homes. How do they fucking sleep at night? I get depressed at the thought of anyone living in these loveless, lightless, smelly little hovels with their pre-war wiring and their spakfilled doorlocks. To consider doing so myself causes me to hyperventilate with terror. And, for the dubious privilege of occupying said miserable deathtrap, you then hand over either your virginity or your first-born child, whichever you're still lucky enough to possess, as security.

 



 

That said, it's all slowly coming together. A house has been found and applied for, though I can't talk about it yet, as it's by no means finalised, and more nervous breakdowns may yet be forthcoming. But the ducks and chickens have been found a home even better than the one they have now, and for that my heartfelt gratitude goes out to my oldest friend in the world. We started school together, and she could whisper animals even then. I never did work out how she does it. It's just a mysterious gift she has. Those are some lucky birds, let me tell you.

The Kid has been a champion. She chose, unlike her mother, to be forward-thinking, excited and optimistic, and did a lot of patting of shoulders and making of tea, lest Mummy lose her vital bodily fluids from all that leaking. Only twice did she ask me to please stop crying and come out from the chicken coop because it was 3 in the morning and I was starting to freak her out.

So. Cross your fingers, your toes, your eyes, if it will help.

And I'll be back in a few days with either good news...

or a suicide note.

 

 

 

Editor's note: application successful. See you on the other side... xo

 

Watermelon Ice

Today I started making sweet pickled watermelon rind, to give as a Christmas present to a few people. It's so pretty, and pretty yum, too. The recipe is from Stephanie Alexander's first book, Menus for Food Lovers. I was then faced with the prospect of eating all the flesh of an entire watermelon.

Hmm. What to do? My husband doesn't like watermelon very much, and I can only eat so much of it myself. But he says he does like watermelon granita on a very hot day. (Which today isn't.) So I decided to make a watermelon ice, which we can keep in the freezer for any time we want it.

I whizzed the flesh of one (seedless) watermelon in a food processor, and added a scant teaspoon of rose water and a capful of dark rum (we didn't have any white rum, which I would have used if we had).

I put 250 g of castor sugar in a pan with 1/2 cup of water, and brought it to the boil, stirring so it would dissolve. I let it boil for a few minutes, then turned off the heat and let it cool.

Then I stirred the sugar syrup into the watermelon juice, and churned the mixture in an ice-cream maker. (You could do it by semi-freezing, flaking with a fork and re-freezing, if you don't have one of those).

Holy moly! It was fabulous!

In with the new (and out with the old)

On Friday, I went to pick up a new machine: woo hoo!

It's what I call a babylocker, but since the brand name is, in fact, Baby Lock, this could get confusing. (My Baby Lock babylocker?) Basically, it's a domestic overlocker that is versatile enough to do 4 thread overlocking, 3 thread overlocking, a tiny, rolled hem—or babylocking—and almost anything in between.

It's always exciting to unpack a new machine. This one comes with a dinky little zippered plastic pouch containing extra and spare bits and pieces.

One of the nice things about this machine is the way the whole front opens up, for ease of access.

People can get a bit overwrought over the complicatedness of threading overlockers, but I find that most domestic machines are pretty intuitive. (By which I mean you can pretty much tell where the thread is supposed to go to from one point to the next.)  Plus they tend to have a little diagram inside the front panel if you get lost.

I've been wanting a machine that can do a babylock finish since forever.

So now that I have one, in addition to my industrial five thread overlocker (Brother), my industrial straight stitch (Consew) and my domestic zigzag machine (Husqvarna), I really don't need the three thread domestic overlocker that I haven't used in years.

Which means that if there's anyone in the Sydney area (local pick up only) who'd like to own a simple little Husqvarna Huskylock 435 three thread overlocker, I have one available.

I bought it second hand in the '90s, so it's old, but it still works beautifully, and there's nothing wrong with it.

One of the particularly good things about it (that I'm really going to miss when using the new machine) is that the lever to raise and lower the presser foot is on the right hand side of the machine, rather than on the left at the back.

That means that when you've got your work all lined up and ready to sew, and you're holding the work steady with your left, as is natural, you don't have to stretch your right hand across to the other side of the machine and around the back in order to lower the foot. Why in God's name they design them any other way is beyond me.

And yet they do.

 

Big Plans

 

 

I'm sorry I've been so quiet.

I've been busy.

I had to do something this month that I haven't done since high school.

I had to make a Design Portfolio,

Y'know, the kind that showcases your work in a clear and well-presented manner, addressing all specified criteria...

(gags rebelliously and makes rude hand gestures).

 

  

 

Worse, I had to put together a CV.

And while I have your attention, please allow me to state my opinion of the Curriculum Vitae in 15 words or less:

I'll take the red-hot poker up the jaxie. Cheers, thanks....

You whole career (career?! ) right there, on paper.

I have an Existential Crisis just thinking about it,

And I've managed to get through my entire life without one,

But finally, I had to bite the bullet.

Actually, rather than write it, I chose in the end to have a gigantic meltdown,

and continued to do so until an Excellent Friend intervened and wrote one for me -

(blows kisses and the promise of gifts in her general direction).

 

 

 

THEN,

When ALL THAT was done.

I sat interviews.

But after confronting a bête noire of such magnitude,

I found the interviews to be a doddle.

Besides, I took my bear with me (partly for show, but mostly for comfort),

And The Bear is nothing if not charming.

(she does have her seat belt on, thank you for asking...)

 

 

 

 

After ALL THAT, I held my breath for 3 weeks,

During which time, I couldn't do very much.

I waited for the postman.

I started back at yoga. Again.

I cleaned the house. Several times.

I wrestled with the migraines. As always.

And I waited for the postman.

 

 

Until, FINALLY,

Today, I got a letter.

 

 

 

 

It informed me that I'd been accepted into college next year to study Fashion Design and Technology, something I've been wanting to do since my days with the Frock Fairies.

 

 

 

I'm gonna learn how to make patterns.

And then I'm going to design, grade, sample and manufacture WORLD PEACE,

(in peach silk organza).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Friends 4 Eva

 

 

Someone remarked the other day that I have an unusual relationship with my daughter.

We seem to live together pretty happily, with a minimum of drama,

Despite the fact that she's a teenager, and I'm... well... y'know... her mother.

And, when I think about it, I s'pose we do.

I mean, we bitch at each other in the mornings, and I nag her about taking a coat, or a brolly, or 

GODDAMMIT, AT LEAST A JUMPER,

AND DO YOU HAVE YOUR PHONE?!

OR YOUR KEYS?!

every single time she walks out the door,

But it generally doesn't get more serious than that.

And I'd love to tell you it's because I'm such a good parent,

But that would be a dirty lie.

The truth is that she's a good kid, and I just got lucky.

Also, because we know some great people, who have all pitched in to help raise and influence her,

To their eternal credit.

But the real secret to getting along well with your teenage kid?

I'll tell you.

It's communication. And mutual respect.

 

 

 
 

 

The kid tags a mango?

You do not eat that mango, man.

Remember that,

and everything will be just fine.

Happy 16th birthday, Poppalina.

And may we be friends forever and ever,

Even longer.

love,

Mummy xoxox