Frou Frou Frippery

Stuck on repeat in my house...

2012-01-24T14:26:00.000-08:00

I'm the boss.

2012-01-24T14:25:00.000-08:00

I've spent the morning watching Cake Boss and eating cake. Like a boss.

Pretty good way to live I've gotta say.

The next great adventure.

2012-01-22T18:59:00.000-08:00

This afternoon Remy and I were at a birthday party for one of his school friends.

There was a young woman there, dressed as Ariel, the mermaid from the movie The Little Mermaid.

She was all youthful loveliness and light, wearing a tiny and very sheer mermaid dress. She was patient with the kids and even made them balloon animals.

Then she gathered the children around her for story time.

About twenty kids aged three and four years old sat on the floor in front of her with their legs crossed and a look of expectation on their precious cake-stuffed faces.

She opened story time in a breathy voice with "Who likes adventures?", to which every kid but one said "ME!". And that one kid? "I like death", he said loudly.

Without a pause she looked that boy in the eye and said "To the organized mind, death is the next great adventure".

Lightening man goes to a party!

2012-01-18T10:44:00.000-08:00

Remy's BFF turned four on the weekend. We were still lying around in bed late on Saturday morning when I realised that we hadn't bought the birthday boy a gift and we were due at his party in ...ooo, let's see... no time at all.

We chatted about what the BFF likes and Remy came up with the idea of making him a cape with a lightening bolt on it. What a fantastic idea! So we got to work.

Fortunately, there was a bunch of fabric still lying around from the pirate costume I made for Remy's birthday, so we choose a bright, patterned red for the lining (this is the part that contains all of Lightening Man's powers don't cha know?), and this very odd charcoal-coloured suiting material for the outside. (You know, I'm sure that I must have bought that fabric but I have absolutely no memory of what I actually bought it for. And it is nasty stuff! All polyester blend, stretchy, slightly scratchy awfulness, but totally fine for something that will probably get thrashed anyway).

It was at about this point that Remy collapsed into a heap and demanded that he too have a cape with a lightening bolt on it. Of course. It's perfectly reasonable to expect that I could just whip up two capes in a morning. Or something like that.

Boyfriend came to my rescue by fetching me a coffee and taking Remy off to the park. Ah, peace at last.

I cut the two pieces of fabric into my best guess of a symmetrical rectangle. I dug out some green felt and cut out an approximation of a lightening bolt, appliquéd it to the ghastly grey fabric. I sewed the two rectangles together (with some elastic in the top corner), leaving a small gap in the side to be able to turn everything the right way out. Once I had trimmed the corners and straightened things out, I topstitched all the way around, still leaving the gap in the side. I sewed a tunnel for the elastic, pulled the elastic tight and sewed up the opening. Voila! It worked!

All that was left to do was make a button hole and sew the button on. And make a second cape. And make and eat lunch. And get ready for the party. And get to the party on time.

Of course, this was all NO TROUBLE AT ALL and we did all those things smoothly and perfectly and like we do this sort of thing every single Saturday ever.

Then we trotted over the hill and down to Union Street....

...jumped on a bus...

...jumped off the bus in North Beach, walked up the hill past Coit tower...

... and the TransAmerica building...

...got a lovely view of the Bay Bridge...

...and arrived at the party right on time!

Unfortunately I didn't get any photos of the birthday boy wearing the cape. Once we walked in the door, it was pure birthday party chaos (and loads of fun).

We have another birthday party to go to this weekend. We haven't bought a present for that party yet.

An explosion of cookies.

2012-01-12T10:37:00.000-08:00

Check out these bad boys! Yoda cookies ahoy!

Remy and I have been hitting the oven lately - we've never baked so many cookies before. My gym membership is the only thing between me and an early death from cookie overdose.

We popped into the local Williams-Sonoma to pick up a candy thermometer and saw a box of Star Wars cookie cutters. While I was a model of restraint and frugality in the shop, as soon as I got home I got to googling them. I ended up getting them half-price and now these bad boys are ALL MINE!

On the box the cookies are decorated with very fancy pants icing ... which I can't for the life of me work out how to do ... but they look super un-iced anyway.

I used this recipe from Smitten Kitchen - one of my favourite cooking blogs - for Brownie Roll-Out Cookies. I used salted butter, so I halved the amount of salt and I used the amazing dark cooking cocoa from Ghirardelli, a chocolate company here in San Francisco.

Delicious! And guaranteed to totally blow the minds of four-year-old boys.

Don't make me do it!

2012-01-09T10:24:00.000-08:00

After months and months and months of telling people that I would be going back to NZ in March 'sometime', I have finally had to bite the bullet and book tickets.

So now I have a definite date for going home.

But NOOOOOO! I don't want to leave! I want to stay in this fabulous, vibrant, exciting city forever. US immigration have other, non-negotiable ideas. Damnit.

Sometimes the art is in the detail.

2011-07-05T21:49:00.000-07:00

The sun is shining through the window onto my back and into my hair. I'm in another phase of giving up coffee, so I have a latte in my hand. The Picasso exhibition I've been to this morning is still moving in my brain. I want to know more about his life, definitely more about his lovers but it appears that Picasso lived his life in four parts that retail for thirty dollars each.

And that's the trick of the museum shop, isn't it? Capture people when they have been broken open by the creativity of others and convince them they can possess some of the greatness. But why must the greatness be inevitably stamped onto magnets? Or impractically small notepads?

In the same cafe, the young woman across from me is eating her cookie as if she were a gopher - all hunched shoulders, two hands holding her food, big teeth bared, taking tiny nibbles until she has nibbled the unfortunate cookie ragged.

She has dark hair, pulled back from her face, blunt fringe up front. She is self-conscious of her acne; her mother seems conscious of her in her entirety.

The two of them don't talk. As the young woman gets up and walks away she could be mistaken for a woman much older; she is bowed by age though she must be less than twenty.

An elderly couple sits close by too. Their rings are thin slivers of gold; the edges of the rings were soaked up by surrounding skin over the many years of marriage.

A proud grandmother struts past pushing her new granddaughter in a pram. Her daughter, the mother of the baby, half walks, half skips to keep up. Her mother is racing away with the baby; her mother is so happy to be a grandmother at last that she doesn't really care.

I can't sit here any longer. The latte is finished; the little cookie has been eaten. I'm off to happily wander in Golden Gate Park.

Riding the buses - A field guide on how NOT to be that asshole.

2011-06-17T21:06:00.000-07:00

There are ways to ride the buses that leaves everyone with no impression of you whatsoever and there are ways to ride the buses so that people know you are an asshole.

Don't let people know for sure that you are an asshole. Here's how in six easy points.

1. Don't be that asshole who takes his golf clubs on the bus. Because that's just stupid. You want to be the guy who is standing next to the homeless man while you're holding your golf clubs? You want people to push past you and your golf clubs in the aisle? You want people to mutter 'asshole' under their breath? Then sure, take your clubs for a ride on the number 5.

2. Don't be that asshole who takes up two seats because you are reading the paper. Or because you need to rest your sixteen-year-old feet. Or because your bag needs a lie down. Or because you just feel like it. And in related asshole-ness, don't sit in the aisle seat so that someone has to push past you to sit in the window seat.

3. Don't be that asshole who gropes women. It's not legal and it's certainly uncool. Also, if you get punched in the balls or your eyes gouged out, no one is going to help you. They'll just call you an asshole.

4. Don't be that asshole who does stupid stuff. Like using the rails to work on your chin-ups. We're not an audience. We're just trying to get places.

5. Don't be that young asshole who sits while older people stand. One day you'll be old and you'll have to stand on your rickety arthritic hips while some fourteen-year-old asshole sits in a seat. Don't tempt karma.

6. So you're an asshole who likes listening to Bon Jovi really, really loudly? Good on you. And you are welcome to do just that. In the privacy of your own home. Don't inflict your music on other people. And see your doctor for a hearing test. I know you need one.

There's no easy way to sum this up. Let's see... Did I cover everything y'all need to know?

Don't be an asshole.

Check.

We're done here.

How's it going?

2011-05-08T10:38:00.000-07:00

I know now that I was quite naive coming to America. I thought that it would be just the same as home, just, you know, more like on the telly. Maybe a little swearier and with a touch more god.

But the crazies in this city seem a little crazier. The people more beautiful, definitely skinnier, probably richer. The diamonds are bigger, the politics more extreme.

Shopping is both cheaper and more expensive. Sitting in this park, I can see the mansion that belongs to Danielle Steele. It takes up a whole city block and has its own carriage entrance. There are houses in the paper for sale for $45 million dollars.

Dog walkers fill the parks. Nannies fill the parks. Women in yoga pants fill Marc Jacobs, Ralph Lauren, small and tasteful boutiques.

Children are treated as little adults, tiny little employers, special snowflakes who can be forgiven anything and who should be given everything. They are on a tight leash; no further away from an adult than a few metres. Strangers are confused when Remy talks to them; kids don't speak to strangers here. The strangers have all been so kind to him, playing along with his superhero games, being good sports when he shoots them.

The food is confusing. The variety of products is astounding. The amount of corn syrup unimaginable and almost impossible to avoid.

People stand for others on the buses. It's more than good manners; there is a strong feeling of community and looking after each other here. Except when they don't, because sometimes they won't. There are signs around the parks telling us all not to befriend the animals because it makes them more aggressive. The animals they are talking about are coyotes. Seriously, coyotes. It's like being in a foreign country sometimes.

While I was out.

2011-04-14T15:20:00.000-07:00

I've moved to San Francisco.

Yes, yes I have. Remy is here too of course, and Rees.

It's awesome here. Obviously. It's San Francisco. How could it be anything else?

Whew! We got this bad boy up just in time for Christmas.

2010-11-05T23:08:00.001-07:00

Oh noes. I'm treating this place like it's Facebook.

2010-11-02T21:57:00.000-07:00

Here you go folks - 10 updates that very nearly went on Facebook until I reminded myself that going from 104 'friends' to 103 almost killed me and that if I continue spamming people with my life then they will leeeeeeaaaaaave meeeeeeeeee:

10: I regret telling Remy about Santa. Suddenly I realise that Santa gets the credit for the stuff I buy. Eff off Santa - if you want the credit, you buy the bloody presents.

9. I have a new favourite song and when I have a new favourite song I listen to it 73 hundred million times in a row. It's so I can get all the goodness out of it. Boyfriend on the other hand has a new least-favourite-ever-in-his-life song that he has listened to 73 hundred million times...

8. Remy's current career-of-choice - Giraffe. One that eats people.

7. Coming in at close second is stuntman. It's not clear yet if he will be a stuntman who also eats people.

6. Do not follow this link unless you are happy to lose hours (and hours and hours) of your life. And definitely do not look at this one. I warned you.

5.When I was little and had trouble going to sleep my mother would say "Don't worry, we're not going to have fun without you". Now that I am a parent myself, I'd like to point out that my mother is a LIAR.

4. Sewing win! I made a car seat cover. And I only swore ... well, I only swore all the time but maybe if I'd been trying harder not to swear I wouldn't have had the energy to finish the car seat cover?

3. Uh oh... I can feel a NEW FAVOURITE SONG coming on... are you ready boyfriend? Boyfriend? Hello?

2. I was at the dentist and had Remy there with me. Remy asked the dentist if he had to go to school for a long time to become a dentist. His answer? "Not as long as a vet". Comforting.

1. Me: I love you.
Remy: Yeah. Look at this booger.

PS Would you like to listen to an awesome song? Here, try this:

Sometimes

2010-10-13T01:03:00.000-07:00

some nights are like this
nights when a girl is reading a funny blog
when she remembers
all of a sudden
that it wasn't very long ago
that she was pregnant
with a much loved and longed-for baby
and the baby died
and no matter what she wishes for
her baby is gone.

It was a godamned cockroach!

2010-10-07T00:11:00.000-07:00

There are things that I am neither physiologically nor psychologically equipped for. This (extensive) list includes:

10. Joining the army. For a start, I hear that yelling back at those blokes who get all up in your business is a no no.

9. Attending events where no alcohol is served.

8. Modelling.

7. Farming.

6. Pest Control.

5. The Olympics. But I swear to god the minute I find a sport that requires absolutely no effort, skill or talent, I'm in there.

4. Optimism.

3. Having the volume on the telly set to an uneven number. What? Of course this is normal. Well, within the bounds of normal. At least I'm not as bad as the flatmate I once had who could only watch the channels that were on prime numbers.

2. Poker face.

1. Finding a cockroach in the iron. See photo for revolting evidence of what happened at my house today:

Things that almost made it into my Facebook status updates this week

2010-09-14T19:22:00.000-07:00

Sometimes my friends have no idea how considerate I am to them. This week alone I managed to (almost) stop myself from spamming them about my life via Facebook*. You, dear blog reader, have not been so lucky.

The 10 things I might have said on Facebook had some pesky sense of control not got in the way:

10. Remy is completely convinced that we do not drink cow's milk, instead we drink human's milk. It makes me picture human milking sheds. This alone is almost enough to turn me from flat whites to espressos.

9. Why was the farmer so specific about not shampooing the lamb? Why did he ban me from making her clothes? Does he give these instructions to everyone who looks after a lamb for him?

8. I don't have an attention span long enough to watch TV anymore. Not even the ads. What's next? That I won't be able to concentrate all the way through a blink?

7. Shut up body. I walked the 500 metres to the dairy. It wasn't a freaking hike up Everest.

6. Motherhood is not a good enough excuse for not showering. Ok, maybe it was when Remy was a screaming infant, but not now that the child is 3.

5. I have watched two rugby games in the past 8 weeks. I am the world's greatest girlfriend.

4. I stormed into the house of the people suspected of burgling my house and yelled at them. The Police have since reassured me that, while they are not the type of crims to stab me while I sleep, I should probably not do it again just in case. Good point Gov.

3. But the farmer didn't mention not painting the lambs hooves with pink nail polish... Megan 1, Farmer 0

2. When I casually mentioned to my mother that I was going to Wellington for the night while Remy had a sleep-over at a friend's house she gasped "But what if he wakes up? Don't do it Megan!" in the exact same tone she would use if I had said that I was leaving Remy with a pack of wolves for a week. In Christchurch. With no emergency survival kit. That woman never wants me to have any fun.

1. Looks like I'll never play Trivial Pursuit ever again. Boyfriend is a doctor and it turns out they have to know stuff. Like, lots of stuff. I'm pretty sure second year of med school must be entirely focused on memorising the cards from the Trivial Pursuit: Genius Edition.

*Is there such a thing as 'a little spamming'? Or is it like being pregnant - either you are or you aren't? If there is such a thing, then I did it. I spammed them a little bit.

5ives: The silver lining of unemployment

2010-07-21T17:41:00.000-07:00

1. I can write anything I want on my blog and not get fired.

2. When people ask if I'm free for coffee the answer is always Yes, Yes, Yes.

3. Sick days are just like all other days... just with more, um, sickness.

4. It's almost impossible for me to put on weight because I can't afford the junk food required.

5. I get to watch my beautiful boy growing and learning everyday. Awwww.

What a difference a day makes

2010-07-15T17:57:00.000-07:00

For a while there, I wasn't sure I'd get out of this alive. Things went from bad to worse, and then worse than worse.

All of that has changed. I'm so happy. I have a beautiful son, I'm dating a gorgeous man, and I have the dearest, sweetest, most patient friends and family. I'm a very lucky girl.

I'm so ridiculously happy that I can barely stand my own company.

In upcoming posts:
- Remy is about to turn 3.
- Turning a 5 buck jacket into a million dollars.
- Small town life.

If you come into the shop today...

2010-03-07T17:50:00.000-08:00

I'll be the one wearing this in her hair.

2010-02-25T19:26:00.000-08:00

It's been 2 months since the ripping-a-bandaid-off-at-high-speed ending of my relationship.

Does it hurt in the split second after the bandaid is removed? Because it bloody well hurts in the moments after.

I've been on auto-pilot until today. Just getting on with getting on and thinking of the million ways I could see the silver lining. And then I revisited this post on the blog of the darling, inimitable Sas. And, for only the second time since he left, I cried that cry; the one that leaves my stomach hurting, my face red and swollen, the one that gets the toxic ick out.

But this is good, right? It's good to grieve, to lament the loss of dreams and a whole world. Right?

An oh so cheerie update

2010-02-07T14:55:00.000-08:00

Hello again dear people.

I was in the neighbourhood, so I thought I'd drop in and say hi. How are you? All ok?

All is well here. Actually, all is great here. Remy and I are having a lovely time together and things are going swimmingly.

There is the possibility of a new (very part-time) job in a pretty wee shop and I seem to be accumulating the most wonderful collection of new friends.

I've been concentrating on what a lucky person I am, and it's definitely helping. I've never been a pollyanna sort, but looking for the positives at a time when things are hard is helping me keep my chin up. And I feel like I am attracting even more luck.

The only thing missing in my life is a computer... but I'm working on that and I can just tell that something good is around the corner.

Megan
xxx

Well.... hello there!

2010-01-12T13:18:00.000-08:00

Wohoo! I have a child-free hour in which to do the most outrageous things... like catch up with emails. This is me living life on the edge.

I've also been quiet of late because Jules and I have separated. Yes, it's messy. Yes, it's stressful. But Remy and I are having fun hanging out together and we're doing well.

I'm going to stay in this darling little town. I've only been here 2ish months, but I have met some wonderful people and Rems has made some darling little friends. Also, the weather is astonishingly warm. I roast in the hot, hot sun most days and I love it.

2009 was simply the worst year of my life. Everything that could go wrong, went wrong. And then the things I thought couldn't go wrong, went wrong. What a horrid time I've had.

But you know what, this year has seen my luck turn for the better. So far I've won an iceblock, bought fabulous shoes for far less than the price on them (they were on sale and I didn't know about it), my car broke down outside the house of a man who happened to be a mechanic and he fixed my car for FREE, and the DVD shop gave me a couple of DVDs for free.

This is going to be a grrrrrrrreat year.

Flitting in to say hullo

2009-11-17T18:57:00.000-08:00

Hello dear people!

Sorry for the little unexpected time out. Our computer is broken again (sheesh), and we have moved. We've moved islands in fact! We're now in a beautiful North Island town with about 1300 other people... Yes, it's truly a Small Town.

So far, so good. We've met some fabulous people and we're surrounded by vineyards. The weather is amazing, and we have a Very Big Town close by. I feel so relaxed here... even with a determined little two year old always chomping at my ankles.

My birds are in a local shop and, goodness me, they're retailing for $22.50. I guess my wild stab at $8-10 was quite off the mark then... Having said that, I'm open to offers, deals, and swapsies if anyone is interested. Just drop me a line (my email address is in my profile).

I have a tonne of stories and photos to share. The minute our computer is back in good health you can be sure that I'll bombard you with them.

Hullo daaaaaarling

2009-10-07T18:44:00.000-07:00

I've made a few alterations to the bird decoration. Let's call it evolution.

I was distractedly cutting material for the new birds and then I found more scraps to use so I cut those out. And then there were the scraps in the cupboard I hadn't opened for ages, so I cut out some more...

I now have 50 of these birds.

50 one-of-a-kind, handmade birds.

If they don't sell, I'm going to make a short film about one woman's decent into bird decoration induced insanity. It will be called "A film starring me".

A day in the life

2009-10-05T06:49:00.000-07:00

+ 'Flu, 'flu, 'flu. (That's one for each of us because we all have it).

+ Fish and chips in Hampden.

+ Eek! We're out of broadband! Back to the stone age and dial-up.

Bye bye birdie

2009-10-03T01:36:00.000-07:00

I'm making Christmas decorations, lots and lots of Christmas decorations at the moment. This bird is one of several hundred million* one-of-a kind, entirely individual, handmade decorations that I have made over the past few days. I plan on selling them at the Victorian Heritage weekend this year.

Jules is my man-on-the-ground when it comes to pricing, and he tells me they'll sell for only $5.00. FIVE BUCKS! I was hoping for ten...

Just look at these eyes... don't they speak to you? Specifically, don't they say "$5 is not enough. You want me. You WANT me. Hand that nice lady $10"?

*Artistic license.

Remoir - the self portraits

2009-10-03T01:29:00.000-07:00

I started uploading some photos tonight and look what I found - Remy must have got hold of my camera and staged his first self-portraits. What an artist.

A day in the life

2009-09-25T02:55:00.000-07:00

+ driving from Temuka to Oamaru

+ sewing up a storm

+ stalling at bedtime

A day in the life of Megan Rose

2009-09-22T14:43:00.000-07:00

My darling friend Phil has a regular post about the themes in his day. And I'm a cheeky little minx so I'm going to copy his idea.

I think we'll call this 'not re-inventing the wheel' and 'wow, what a compliment to another blogger' so that I don't feel quite so bad ripping off his genius.

Ok?

So, themes for today:

+ Remy goes back to bed at 9.25am

+ Coffee not strong enough to compel me to do all I need to do

+ Finding new, exciting blogs to read

Photo essay: Feeding the calves

2009-09-19T02:26:00.000-07:00

My vote could go either way.

2009-08-31T01:14:00.000-07:00

Help Boganette decide - awesome or not so awesome?

You guys are going to thank me for this one.

2009-08-21T00:30:00.000-07:00

(and I in turn say thank you to MamaPop)

Love(ing getting) letters and Christmas cheer

2009-08-16T21:50:00.000-07:00

Wow, this real mail thing is great.

I started writing the letters without the expectation of letters in return, so it's been a real pleasure to receive letters and cards back. And some of those letters have been written so well I've almost cried. You guys rock.

==================================

I know it's only August, so talk of Christmas may upset some of you, but I don't care! And that's because it's at this time of year that Jules and I start to talk about what delicious treats will make up our meals on Christmas day. It's such an incredible pleasure to talk about eggs cooked with cream for breakfast, and champagne on tap throughout the day. Mmmmmmmm.

Spooky stuff

2009-08-14T03:13:00.000-07:00

How does YouTube know I am on a bender of all my favourite songs circa 1994? It's like there are little fairies in my computer telling the internet all about me...

I don't know who Amy Walker is but I sure do like her.

2009-08-13T02:15:00.000-07:00

Meet the neighbours

2009-08-08T02:12:00.000-07:00

seventy seven
year old at house above us
peers down at washing

*******************************

perfect false teeth smile
asks my name to forget it
the next time we talk

******************************

childless spinster
neither of his parents there
met our son on road

******************************

young parents surprised
more like them living on street
don't collect pension

Commissions rock

2009-08-04T04:10:00.000-07:00

I've had a run on commissions this month and they are all for lovely people and lovely babies. Yay!

The material above is for a dress for a brand new precious little tot. Her mum is a friend of mine from high school and I'm just so pleased to be making this dress for her daughter.

The denim is stuff from my stash, and the yellow cotton with the unusual tree print is Japanese and total gorgeousness. The pattern I'm sort of, kind of, a little bit using is from the 1920s. I suspect I'm making it hard for myself, but if it turns out how I imagine it in my head, it'll rock.

Keep your fingers crossed for me....

No thanks, I prefer scooters.

2009-07-29T01:43:00.000-07:00

My baby turned 2. Blimey.

2009-07-29T01:33:00.000-07:00

Moving House: The end. I'm hoping.

2009-07-27T00:07:00.000-07:00

We've moved! And it's marvellous. Not the moving part, the new house part. It's oh so good to have that monkey off our back.

And did I tell you about the underfloor heating?

You must have missed what I said because I didn't hear you screaming with envy. WE HAVE UNDERFLOOR HEATING! And it's so good that I want to lie down on our hallway floor and sleep forever in its warm, warm arms.

I think that's all my news. Let's see... underfloor heating, check. Yep, that's all.

Moving house: The Opera

2009-07-20T18:02:00.000-07:00

Best thing about moving house so far? Finding that cute pink lipstick I'd totally forgotten about.

Worst thing? I'm tempted to tell you about the worst things but the internet called and said it doesn't have the space to store it all.

Advanced Style

2009-07-16T23:20:00.000-07:00

I love it when people have distinct fashion styles; but I really love it when I see older people show us how it's done. And then I found this.

Awesome.

Sumner beach with the most beautiful people in the world

2009-07-14T02:48:00.000-07:00

Honest Lying

2009-07-12T00:25:00.000-07:00

I was driving home from Christchurch tonight when I started to wonder what my world would be like if I started speaking my mind.

And I mean actually telling people what I really think all the time. Not just with Jules, but with everyone.

I want to find out what would happen. So that's what I'm going to do. I'm starting first thing tomorrow, and I'm going to do it for a month. To make sure that I actually stick to it, I'm going to write about it in a blog - not this one because it would be too easy for me to blather on about everything else and forget about my experiment - but over here at Honest Lying.

Come and have a look. If you like, you could even stay to see what happens...

The hard sell

2009-07-08T01:43:00.000-07:00

Check out this baby! Baby hoodie that is. And it's for sale!

Size 2ish (could fit a 1 year old with sleeves rolled up, could fit a little 3 year old), made with gen-u-ine 80s fabric on the inside, new cotton on the outside. The buttons are probably from the 70s - doesn't matter when they were made though because they are HOT.

Email me for the price. You know you want it.

Trying to beat cabin fever

2009-07-08T01:21:00.000-07:00

Birthday season

2009-07-06T01:52:00.000-07:00

Everyone we know is turning 2 - ok, not everyone - and that means lots of gifts.

This year I am trying to make or thrift all of my clothes (except knickers because EEEEEEWWWWWWW), and I figure why not gifts as well. (I could take this opportunity to bleat on about how I am saving the planet by doing this but actually we're as poor as church mice and we enjoy spending the money we have on frivilous things like food).

On Sunday, Remy's darling friend Poppy had a party so I whipped up a little skirt for her. It's just two long rectangles of material bashed together with some elastic at the top but man if it didn't look cute. The denim is an op shop find and the apples are from my stash.

I also whipped up this skirt using the same method but it's about twice the size I thought it would be. Luckily I know a cute wee thing who will fit it.

Thank you! Thank you! OK, stop it now.

2009-07-05T22:15:00.000-07:00

Woah! Do you people love your real mail or what! I've had an overwhelming response to my offer of real mail but, unfortunately, I am going to have to close the lines as there is only so much letter writing I can do before someone calls child protective services because Remy is being neglected.

For those of you lovelies who signed up for letters, a little something is on its way...

10 status updates I didn't post on Facebook this week

2009-07-03T00:50:00.000-07:00

Megan Rose:
1. has decided not to be a mother this week. She's taking the week off because it's too hard.
2. boiled every component of the dinner tonight. Mmmmm, delicious.
3. has finally found a reality TV programme that she just. cannot. watch.
4. wants to add that, in fact, she finds Stylista so bad that it makes her want to scratch out her own eyes.
5. cannot stop putting her tongue into the place her filling once was.
6. was a little surprised when Remy started called her Megan. Now she's proud of him for figuring out that 'Mummy' was just an alias.
7. is having landlord woes.
8. is checking out a new house in the morning. Fingers crossed.
9. would love the manicure fairy to come and visit.
10. has cold feet. Not that sort of cold feet. Actual cold feet. Like, literally.

Dear John...

2009-07-02T18:44:00.001-07:00

What a fabulous response I got to my desperate plea for letter buddies. And I'm so pleased that there are people who love and adore snail mail as much as I do. Unless it's bills, and then I'm not such a big fan.

Did I mention that our power bill was $300 this month. Ouch. And that's with us barely being here.

Speaking of letter writing, and not being able to help myself when it comes to thrifting, I thought I'd show y'all a little beauty I picked up a couple of months ago:

Da da! It's a ... um ... I don't know what the word is for it so I am going to call it my writing folder.

It has all sorts of pockets and compartments for me to store my letter writing paraphernalia:

It's circa 1984 as you can see by the helpful calendar:

I also have a thrifted letter holder:

I love this and I suspect it was handmade because inscribed on the back with a wood iron is "Dearest Mummy, love David and Margaret 1954".

Lovely.

Medicine

2009-07-02T04:00:00.000-07:00

Sheesh, she's deperate

2009-07-01T02:55:00.000-07:00

I love writing letters and I love stationary. I love finding the right postcard for the message. I'm even starting to feel fondly towards some stamps.

When I was a kid, I had penfriends and sure, they were all right, but at the ripe old age of 31, penfriends are a little lame. But that's what I think I'm looking for.

I write to my friends and family pretty regularly but still, I need more. I need more people to write to.

Did I mention that I'm single-handedly bringing back correspondence. The proper kind. Not this fly-by-night electronic kind.

So please, send me your address so I can write to you. I don't expect a response, and you can op out anytime. But REAL MAIL folks. What's not to love?

Barry Newsdesk is THE news.

2009-06-26T17:15:00.000-07:00

Barry Newsdesk is a Citizen Journalist. He was made redundant at the start of the year and decided to use his powers for good by starting his blog.

The interwebs being what they are, you have to take people at face value but you also have to keep in mind that they may actually be pretending to be an entirely different person. So at the risk of offending him, and I really hope I don't because he's a top bloke, I have to say that I can't work out if Barry Newsdesk is an utter genius or someone who had a minor head injury as a child.

Decide for yourself when you pop by his blog. Best post so far has to be one of his latest: Crazy Crazy Crazy Night. Read it and laugh. Or weep. Or maybe do a little of both.

Thanks youse fullas

2009-06-26T00:37:00.000-07:00

Another week, another hospital trip. Yawn.

I think I'm in the 'meh, over it' stage of the post-nearly-dying process. But this time at least I was only there for three days.

Anywho, now I'm trying to get back to our normal lives. This week Remy has gone to home daycare on his usual days and Jules has gone to work. I've been trying to keep things pretty low-key and have a sleep most days. Friends have been amazing - they have been ready to take Remy for a few hours, and even to vacuum my house. Outstanding.

And I'm getting there with my replies to the amazing comments, emails and gifts I have recieved from you wonderful internet people. You guys ROCK.

[Edited to add: hahahaha! I've just realised that I wrote this with the assumption that I am not going to get sick again. Take that body and your stupid internal bleeding! No more getting sick because I've told everyone that we're back to normal now].

Food, glorious food

2009-06-25T01:30:00.000-07:00

Don't you hate it
when you restrain yourself
from buying junk food
during the day
and feel virtuous about it
but then come night time
you find yourself prowling
around the kitchen cupboards
for the very same junk food
but there is no junk food
in the cupboards
because you were on
the very same health kick
on the day
you did the grocery shopping.

5ives: The Hospital Edition

2009-06-20T18:14:00.000-07:00

1. My first words to the surgeon who saved my life: "I like you".

2. FECAL ODOUR ELIMINATOR anyone? It's magic the way that it changes the molecular structure of urine and fecal scents. Picturesque, oui?

3. I had time to do Sudoku in hospital. Lots of Sudoku. About 31 puzzles. And I had time to learn that I suck at Sudoku. About 31 times.

4. The week before The Big Stay In Hospital, I found a darling little bed jacket in a local thrift store. I'd never seen a bed jacket in real life and fell head-over-heals in love with this one. I needed the perfect opportunity to wear it. I dreamed of coming down with something like TB (not actually TB because yes, it's romantic in stories, but romantic in real life? Definitely not). I pictured myself sitting in bed, frail yet luminous, reading my Agatha Christie novels and totally looking the part with the cutest little bed jacket ever.

But then real life came along and kicked that dream's butt. I went straight from the Doctor's to hospital. I didn't pass Go and I couldn't pick up my bed jacket.

5. Amount of weight lost during all of this? 3 kilos. Yuuuuusss.

The Hospital: (a very reluctant) Part 4

2009-06-20T18:08:00.000-07:00

I don't really want to write this post but I feel a strange obligation to my future self to be completely honest about what I went through. And maybe someone out there might appreciate reassurance that the path to recover is not straight and predictable. So here it is. I'll let it out of my head.
============================================================

It was 12 days after the operation and I was feeling extraordinary pain. Again.

And I was tired of it all to be honest. So very tired in my bones and my mind and my spirit.

But instead of hiding like I wanted to, I went to the doctor. Oh yes, I have Learnt My Lesson about soldiering on.

The doctor called the ambulance. I cried and cried and cried because I'd promised Remy that I wouldn't leave him again. And he cried because he couldn't understand what was happening. He looked at me and asked "Happy? Happy?".

I had had another internal bleed. Apparently it had been going on for several days, and had all collected in some obscure spot and formed a ball the size of an orange.

I overheard a doctor reassuring a nurse that, yes, these things are painful, and yes, she is genuine, and yes, she will be admitted into your ward.

This time in hospital I was overwhelmed with insomnia. Mostly my nights were spent staring at the ceiling, listening to the nurses, and thinking about death. But this time I barely thought about our dead baby; it's like the imprint of her has been beaten out of me by the constant and rapid fire medical jargon.

This time I thought about what my death would mean for Remy.

And even though I convinced the doctor that I was fine and to send me home much earlier than he'd planned, the thoughts about death followed me home. So did the insomnia.

And that's where I am now. Trying to be comfortable with the fact that, by sheer accident, I am alive. That my continued existence is a result of mistakes and successes.

But maybe that's the case for all of us?

Beach Treasures

2009-06-20T03:02:00.000-07:00

An accident waiting to happen

2009-06-20T02:50:00.000-07:00

I've been playing around with a series of ideas for photos for an (imaginary at this stage) exhibition.

I want it to be a bit gritty but this image just plain old scares me. Maybe my subconscience is trying to tell me something?

A suitable craft project for an invalid.

2009-06-19T02:59:00.000-07:00

Upcycling an old Karen Walker tshirt into a cushion cover, also making use of that denim you got as a bargain from the op shop.

1. Cut out the denim roughly the size of the cushion. Cut the tee however you like. Take everything to your mother to have her cut it all again, but this time more cushion-shaped and with straight edges.

2. Ask your dad for a hammer. Navigate around the massive gaping drain he has recently dug in the back yard to fetch the hammer from the shed. Thank god you didn't fall in the drain and dirty your last pair of clean(ish) pajamas.

3. Count the number of snap button thingies you have. Divide this number by the number of sides of the cushion. Curse your expensive-yet-clearly-inadequate girls' school education and work it out on a calculator.

4. Sit the piece of tshirt on top of the denim and make wild stabs at where the snap button thingies should go. Snip the fabric, grab the hammer, and damage the tiles around your parents' fireplace by hammering in the first button. Quickly scan imagination and come up with story about a small earthquake. That happened while they were overseas. Before they had the tiles installed around the fire. Oh shit.

5. Take everything outside very quickly while your mother is putting the chickens away in the coop for the evening, and before she can see what you have done. Preferably move everything in front of your toddler who immediately wants to help because hammering stuff is What He Lives For.

6. Negotiate hammering in the 600 other bloody snap button thingies with a 23 month old maniac holding the hammer. Kiss the ground when you get to the end and have lived. Turn to your child and check that he has also lived. Congratulate yourself on avoiding an awkward conversation with his father.

7. Take a break to watch game shows on telly.

8. Muster enthusiasm to finish project. Tell yourself that you'll whip up the rest of the cushion after the child goes to bed.

9. Feign extreme pain/breakdown/minor amputation/mental retardation in effort to convince your mother to finish project for you. Suddenly remember that this technique has not worked on her in 31 years when she is starts to ridicule you.

10. Take all parts of the unfinished project home with you and swear that you will finish it. Soon. Consider taking cunning photo of the front of the cushion to make it look like it is finished so that you can blog about it. Fail spectacularly and blog about it anyway.

Shhh, mummy's sleeping

2009-06-09T16:05:00.001-07:00

I'm going up to the farm today with Remy. Jules is going back to work tomorrow and I still can't look after Remy on my own yet, so my mum is generously taking us in until Sunday.

I'm going to be a bit cheeky and take some of my vintage fabric stash in the hope that my mum, quilter extraordinaire, will have time to teach me the finer points of rotary cutting, but mostly I will be lying about and getting better.

The farm exists in quite another era, and is the land that broadband forgot, so I won't be back here until Monday.

See you all then!

What a meanie

2009-06-08T16:18:00.000-07:00

It's time to say thank you for the good, healing thoughts and wonderful messages. It's meant a lot to know that there are so many, many kind souls out there willing good things to happen to me, and it must be working because I'm starting to feel like sometime soon I could leap out of bed and spend a whole day in real clothes.

And I'm sorry I made you cry. It's quite something to make such a large number of people cry on their computers.

So next time I'm going to attempt to make you all laugh and spit up tea on your computers. You know, for a change.

The Hospital: Part 3

2009-06-05T22:27:00.000-07:00

I'm home now and I'm getting better every day. Every day is marked with another small achievement.

My little boy comes home tomorrow, and damn if I'm not going to smother him with all the kisses and cuddles I have stored up.

I have such an ache in my bones from missing him. From missing his warm milky breath in the mornings, those tiny chubby hands reaching around my neck for a cuddle, his constant chatter describing his world. I can't wait to hear him telling me 'very much', our secret code for 'I love you very much'.

They tell me we can try to have another baby in 6 weeks or so. That's all, six weeks. I'm pretty sure we're not going to do that. There is still healing to be done, many steps to take.

But first we need to find a way, a private way, to say goodbye to our christmas baby.

The Hospital: Part 2

2009-06-05T01:14:00.000-07:00

I got a call from my doctor's office. Come and see us please. Now.

In the waiting room, with other people waiting, my doctor (not my friend Thomas) told me that the results showed I might have an ectopic pregnancy.

The only thing I knew about ectopic pregnancies is that they can be fatal.

In my head, I just knew that couldn't be true. I had already been told, unequivocally that it couldn't be that.

For the first time since I discovered I was pregnant, I was given a pregnancy test. I was in his office and he said that it looked like it was negative.
================================================================================

Minutes later I was told an ambulance was on its way.

The test was actually positive.
================================================================================

Hospitals can be such dull places. On the telly it's all life and death.

In real life, sure, it's life and death too, but on a different scale. People talk about what's important to them, most pressing at that moment. Have you fed the cat? How much was the power bill? Has Penny called to ask about me? Did you eat the last of those bread rolls before they went off?

They want to know what's happening in the outside world. They want to know about the weather, the important murder trial all over the papers.

They're not going to talk about dying. They're not going to tell you that they cry in the night. That they miss being more than the sum of their medical conditions, that one time they were a dancer, a lover, an artist.

Days are highly regulated. Breakfast at 7.45. Doctors do their rounds. Milo at bedtime.

Time passes. One day I woke to see snow on the hills.

Jules and I spent long hours together. Talking, reading, staying close with Jules only going out if he really needed to and couldn't put it off any longer.
==============================================================================

I was told that I was lucky to be here. That the internal bleeding had been extensive. That the operation was complicated. That I lost a lot of blood and needed a transfusion.

In the night, I felt pain that I never want to feel again.

Somewhere far away, I could hear crying. I could hear a hurt and tortured soul calling out and I wondered who it was.

It was me.
=================================================================================

I was really sick. It was confirmed for me by the way the doctors looked at me, the way the students made nervous notes when standing by my bedside.

I had another blood transfusion. I had drains and stitches removed. I had a lot of drugs.
==================================================================================

It had all happened so quickly but so slowly all at the same time.

I was in shock.

I was angry and sore and shocked, so very shocked.

Mostly, I cried for my baby, the Christmas baby I would never have. The baby that suffered an undignified, unfair and highly medical death. The baby that no one was talking to me about.

The Hospital: Part 1

2009-06-05T00:38:00.000-07:00

Just over a month ago, I was pregnant with our second baby; with Remy's little brother or sister. Our baby was going to arrive at Christmas, our Christmas baby.

I felt like I was having a little girl. Somehow I just knew it. Maybe it was because this time was so different than when I was pregnant with Remy. I had nausea, sure, but I wasn't throwing up on the pavement like I was with him. I didn't need to carry airsick bags with me.

I was getting a tummy. Jules would talk to my tummy and tell the baby how much we loved her and wanted her. I started making some maternity clothes because I knew my other stuff wasn't going to last too long.

I was at the baby store on a Tuesday afternoon when I went to the toilet and saw blood. Lots of blood. I panicked. I shut the shop and ran over the road to my doctors' surgery. I saw my friend Thomas, a doctor, in the waiting room and started crying.

He took me into his room and I told him about the blood. He was worried, but told me that while it looked bad, it could all be ok.

I went home and went to bed. I cried. Mostly it was fear, not knowing what was going to happen. Hoping that our baby was going to hang on.

But I didn't have a lot of hope. I'm not stupid. I knew that it didn't look good.

The next day we had a scan; the woman was blunt. It was bad news. The baby was gone. It was now a matter of waiting for everything else to pass.

We went home, numb, crying, shocked.

==========================================================================

That night the pain was too much. I lost consciousness, I was in agony.

Jules called an ambulance and we went to hospital.

==========================================================================

Days passed. Weeks started to form around us. Life carried on.

But I was in so much pain every day. Something was wrong. I couldn't sit down easily, picking up Remy was painful, lying down at night was something I came to dread. I bled and bled and bled. I was so emotional; crying one moment, angry the next. My patience with Remy was short and I felt so guilty.

I visited my doctor. Always the same answer. You don't have an infection. I don't know what's wrong. I'm puzzled. Go away and see if it gets better.

I missed a follow up scan. I couldn't face all that intrusion. Not again. It had already been a medical problem with no medical answers. My baby was dead and no one would talk about my baby. They talked about pregnancy tissue. They referred to products of conception.

The pain got worse. Daily life was hard.
======================================================================

I got a letter from the hospital for another scan and I put it on the fridge. It made me angry - the date of the scan was exactly one month after I started bleeding. Why the hell would they bother with this if there was nothing wrong with me? Did they need me to comply so that they could complete the paperwork?

I wasn't going to go. I did. But I have no idea what made me go this time.

It was the same woman as last time; she was blunt. It was bad news, there was something wrong.

Sweet leetle prechussness

2009-05-28T03:52:00.000-07:00

This kid is so goddamn cute, I just want to eat him.

The one where I was tagged in a meme and started to feel popular.

2009-05-27T23:37:00.000-07:00

What is your current obsession?
Vintage aprons, Agatha Christie novels, sell sell sell on Trademe.

What is your weirdest obsession?
Oh lord, let's not get into those.

What are you wearing today?
MAC Red Russian lipstick, black jeans, vintage silk shirt, darling little Italian shoes that I picked up recently for $10 BRAND NEW!

What's for dinner?
Gluten-free pasta and yummy sauce a la Jules. (Remy is a GF baby, and I just eat the same things as him. Mostly. He doesn't seem to consume as much chocolate or red wine as me. He's such a baby.).

What would you eat for your last meal?
Sorry, can't think about that. I only just ate and I have this thing where when I'm full from the last meal, I can't think about eating.

What's the last thing you bought?
Groceries. Yawn. Boring.

What are you listening to right now?
Remy doing his best to avoid bedtime. Maaaaaaaaaaaammy. Maaaaaaaaaaamy. And so on and so on.

What do you think of the person who tagged you?
Sas is one of my very favourite bloggers. I always feel so pleased when there is an update from her. And she leaves me the funniest, wittiest comments. She ROCKS.

If you could have a house totally paid for, fully furnished anywhere in the world, where would you like it to be?
Goodness me... a dream come true... London. Or New York. Or San Francisco. Or Rome. Or, believe it or not, Oamaru. WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME?

If you could go anywhere in the world for the next hour, where would you go?
I'd go straight to Nottingham to pick up my darling Katy, then I'd whisk her away to Barcelona and we would have cake/s and champagne and we'd laugh and laugh.

Which language do you want to learn?
French. Soooo hot.

What's your favorite quote (for now)?

(It's actually a Poem called 'Leap'.)

"yes, let's
leap
into a
leaf
heap".

Wystan Curnow

What is your favorite colour?
Red, absolutely. And at the moment I like to pair just a little smudge of it (currently my new red red red lippy), with grey, or black and white.

What is your favorite piece of clothing in your own wardrobe?
Ummmm, that's really hard to answer... I guess any of my vintage silk scarves.

Honestly, vintage this, vintage that - do I ever pay full price for anything? (Actually, I can't leave that rhetorical question unanswered. I definitely, without question or doubt would never buy vintage underwear. Uh, just NO).

What is your dream job?
Ruler of the world. A world where everyone had to do what I told them. And one where I could eat limitless amounts of cheese and chocolate and I'd lose weight. In fact, I'd be one of those people who says "No matter what I do, I just can't seem to gain weight".

What's your favourite magazine?
Interiors (I think that's what it's called, it's American and has the most awesome houses in it), Vogue, and this new one called Pilot but I have only been able to buy one copy so far because nowhere in Oamaru stocks it. (And, shhh, secretly this list also includes the likes of US Weekly but I save that one for when I am having a particularly blue day).

If you had £100 now, what would you spend it on?
Let's see, that converts to about $300 New Zealand so perfume, makeup, and really good sushi.

Describe your personal style?
It will come as little surprise that I am going to say vintage. But I'd like to think that I don't look like I'm wearing fancy dress. I like to keep the vintage items to one or two per outfit with the rest of the outfit something a little edgy or super cute. Depending on my mood of course.

What are you going to do after this?
Sleep.

What are your favourite films?
Weeeell, this is where I have to admit that, while I like films, I watch them and then forget them. I blame my parents not providing us with a telly when we were growing up. Or giving us a place to live that was less than 2.5 hours away from a cinema.

What's your favourite fruit?
Mandarins.

What inspires you?
Landscapes, cityscapes, clever people, good design, art.

Your favourite books?
The Bone People... struggling to come up with any other titles. It's late.

Do you collect anything?
Books, icons, art, scarves, aprons, anything connected with the Queen's 1953 visit to NZ, quilts, material, buttons, pretty stationary.

What are you currently reading?
I have a few things on the go - Robert Hughes "Nothing if not critical", PD James "Death in Holy Orders", and William Boyd "Any human heart". I also have about 5 Agatha Christie's waiting for me by my bed.

Go to your book shelf, take down the first book with a red spine you see, turn to page 26 and type out the first line:

"It was a pleasure to enter by a side street
in the center of the city
a bathhouse said to be 300 years old,
old enough to have opened the pores of Florence Nightingale
and soaped the musical head of Franz Liszt."

It's the start of a poem called Istanbul by Billy Collins.

What makes you follow a blog?
I follow blogs that make me laugh, ones where I like the writing style, blogs where I can learn something (sewing being the obvious thing), ones that are not too perfect. I hate blogs that make me feel inadequate, so I'm always up for hearing about that time you vomited in front of your boss (yep, I've done that).

The rules:
1. Respond and rework; answer the questions on your blog, replace one question that you dislike with a question of your invention, add one more question of your own.
2. Tag eight other people.

And I'm going to tag Nikki,Miss Smith at Home, Karen, Louise, Emma, MeganWegan, MaryNanna, and Jannelle.

Puzzles can eff off as far as I'm concerned.

2009-05-23T17:42:00.000-07:00

Allegedly, we're supposed to learn something new every day.

I'm clearly behind the class here because I'm certain I don't learn something new every day; in fact, I think I may be forgetting something old every day, thereby gradually becoming more and more stupid.

But yesterday, I did learn something new. And that something was a very valuable lesson.

It's been raining here for, let's see, 1, 2, 3, 4... 100 million days in a row now and everyone is getting a touch of cabin fever, so when I was in the local Sallies and saw the stack of puzzles, I had visions of us sitting around the table, the fire glowing in the background, chatting merrily away with the occasional "jolly good", and "oh, I say", finally completing the puzzle and growing closer as a family. It wouldn't be about the actual completion of the puzzle, oh no no no, it would be about the journey.

The truth was far more gritty.

I opened the box, and Remy ate a piece. I yelled. Jules stuck his finger in Remy's mouth to get any remaining piece, and Remy bit his finger.

So, I thought to myself, 'that's ok; Jules and I will do it once Remy is in bed tonight. We'll laugh, remark at how much we love each other, and forever remember this as the day that we grew so close that there were never any harsh words spoken between us again'.

Remy went to bed at about 7.30, and so did Jules.

I was determined not to give up on the puzzle. It didn't ask to be wrenched out of its cosy spot in the shop only to be cruelly abandoned by its new owner that very same day.

So I sat down at the table by myself, the laptop beside me so I could listen to podcasts, and began the puzzle.

Things didn't start well. About 60% of the puzzle seemed to be blue. Sure, variations on light blues and dark blues, but still, it was mostly one colour.

I didn't give up.

I picked out all the bits with straight edges. And that's when I suspected that I wasn't having fun. In fact, if anything I was starting to get tense. Very tense. Angry in fact.

I kept going. I found all the similar colours and put them together.

And that's when it struck me. Doing a puzzle is like cleaning the house. You find random bits of crap EVERYWHERE and have to find somewhere to put them. It takes a long time, and when you finish, it goes back to looking like it did before you started.

I gave up. Puzzles suck.

The one where there are photos of me trying to smile with my eyes.

2009-05-23T17:12:00.000-07:00

Here are the thrifting photos! And not too late either. It's a freaking miracle I got my crap together enough to do this before Christmas.

Let's start with the scarves (and please excuse the lack of ironing; it's really not a strong point of mine):

And the jumper:

(Yes, a self-portrait in the bedroom mirror. I had no idea these things were so hard to do. I promise I will no longer judge the people wh take self-portraits for their Facebook profiles. And here I have to digress and skite that this is a hand knitted jumper, in some yummy warm mystery wool, and it cost $2.00. Yes folks, TWO BUCKS. What a find. I think it was knitted in one piece, and then it does up at the sides with three buttons.).

A silk shirt by Peirre Cardin but made in New Zealand? I'd love to know more about this.

I had a splurge when I was in Dunedin this week - A MAC lipstick called Russian Red. Fun!

And, to finish, my favourite Agatha Christie yet - "The Moving Finger". That's an outstanding title. Out-bloody-standing.

Treasure hunting

2009-05-22T03:28:00.000-07:00

It's been a great week thrifty treasures wise. (But no photos just yet I'm afraid; I've left it too late tonight but maybe in the next few days).

I struck scarf heaven at the St. Vincent de Paul's. Some woman must have been having a jolly good clean out*, and that woman had jolly good taste.

I also got the cutest, hand knitted jumper. Definately photos of that to follow because I just know you'll be impressed by it.

And I picked up a couple of Agatha Christie's in a sweet wee shop in Dunedin. We had to drive through snow to get to Dunedin (note to self - check the weather forecast first next time), so I'm extra pleased I got them.

And that's all folks! I really have have have to go to bed.

*I refuse to believe that she died. A woman with scarves like her scarves should be immortal.

Playing at Riverstone in Black and White

2009-05-18T02:37:00.000-07:00

Mmmmm, books

2009-05-18T02:28:00.000-07:00

I love and adore Agatha Christie books. And I love and adore Slightly Foxed, a wonderful secondhand book store in the Victorian Precinct (what was once known as the Old Part of Town).

I've found some wonderful AC treasures there of late... but it's never enough. I can never find enough time to clean the fridge, but I can finish one of these books in a matter hours once I've started reading.

Any chance you, my dear reader, would be willing to swap some Agatha Christie's for, perhaps, some vintage aprons? Or vintage scarves? Or maybe you'd like me to keep a look out for a certain little retro something for your collection?

Memory Lane

2009-05-12T00:27:00.000-07:00

My love affair with the scanner continues. Today I bring you two photos I have just discovered (and had never seen before) in the bottom of a box of stuff* my mum gave me.

On the back of them, it's written that these were taken in December 1979 at a Christmas party.

*My mother is not generally the sentimental, pull her punches type when it comes to her kids, so included in this box are things like the letter she got advising of my suspension from boarding school, and all my crap school reports from my I-wish-I-could-forget-them teenage years. But, I guess, photos like these brighten up the box a bit.

Awkward is as awkward does

2009-05-11T15:50:00.000-07:00

When they say Awkward Family Photos, they really mean awkward.

To the Fairies

2009-05-11T00:34:00.000-07:00

This note totally cracks me up.

It says:

Dear Fairies,
I lost my second tooth.
Can you find it for you to keep.
Put some money beside my bed.
Megan.

I can remember the situation vividly. I had just lost my tooth - I use the term 'lost' very loosely as there was definitely some coercion involved in getting the tooth out of my head - and it was a bit messy. So I took it to the bathroom and was using my toothbrush to clean it when it went down the plughole. Disaster!

How could the Fairies know that I had really, truly lost a tooth without there being any evidence whatsoever? The only solution? Write an affidavit, sign it, and put it under my pillow instead of the tooth.

My favourite part is "Put some money beside my bed". Yeah Fairies. Hand over the cash already!

Optical illusion: Tell me, is there a face in this flower?

2009-05-10T01:12:00.000-07:00

I do declare

2009-05-09T21:42:00.000-07:00

This has been the best Mother's Day ever. EVER.

Check out this beauty:

Oh, yes siree - that's pure pasta right there. Plus, not only is this necklace a thing of beauty, it also goes with everything I own.

And I got a cup of tea in bed this morning.

Yep, best Mother's Day ever.

Aprons: Let them make housework fun for you.

2009-05-08T03:48:00.000-07:00

I've had a wild time of late in one of my very favourite op shops in Oamaru. No, of course I'm not going to tell you which shop. I look much kinder than I really am.

I stumbled upon a treasure-trove of aprons this week. I always think there is nothing that makes housework more fun than a cute little vintage apron.

And you guys are in luck! Because I have what could now be considered an extensive collection (or, if you like, the kind of problem with thrifting that will one day result in my neighbours calling the Council to perform an intervention on the wild-eyed lady across the way) I've forced myself to put a few things on TradeMe.

You'll find them here.

Introducing...

2009-05-07T02:59:00.000-07:00

...the child that refuses to take a daytime nap anymore (even though he gets very, very tired).

What in god's good name to people do ALL DAY with a child?

In other breaking news, I think my electric blanket may have been on all day because I burnt my feet getting into bed.

Time flies

2009-05-05T01:38:00.000-07:00

One year ago today we moved to Otago. We packed up our lives in a city of a couple of hundred thousand people, and moved to a town that has barely ten thousand.

Blimey. What a shock it was.

But now it's ok, good even. I feel like I'm part of a community, even more so than I did in Wellington. I've met some fabulous people and only a small scattering of, ahem, total arseholes.

There are still things that I'm having trouble adjusting to like the overwhelming whiteness of the population, and the ease with which some people feel able to spout racist crap. And the fact that the main street is wide enough for there to be car parks down the centre. And the sheer generousity and kindness of the people. It can be disarming at times.

Life's good here.

Rosie Posie

2009-05-04T00:18:00.000-07:00

Here's a tip

2009-05-03T01:05:00.000-07:00

Today when I was changing Remy's nappy, I found 30 cents. It was like getting a tip for a job well done.

Pop!

2009-05-02T02:40:00.000-07:00

I love pop culture. And the term 'pop culture' helps me feel like I'm not just wasting my life away in front of the telly. Rather, I am expanding my knowledge in an important sociological area.

Or something like that.

And so I also like to read about pop culture. One of my all-time favourite sites is MamaPop - a pop culture blog for mamas.

They have expanded my horizons. What would my life have been without Joss Weldon's Dollhouse? Or True Blood, which has our very own darling Anna Paquin as the star. (BTW - and I'm confident this will be the millionth time I've told you this - I held Anna's Oscar. It was heavy).

And now they've introduced me to Amanda Palmer. Man, this woman ROCKS. Check her out for yourself:

Who is that precious baby?

2009-05-01T02:21:00.000-07:00

We have a scanner! It has improved my life by at least 7%. When I learn how to use it properly, I expect it will change my life entirely.

As you may have guessed, the photos are of me, and are circa 1979.

Prepare yourselves for a re-visiting of my childhood*.

*Don't panic, I promise I won't do that. Even I can draw the line at that.

Every cloud and all that.

2009-04-29T23:26:00.000-07:00

I've not been very well these past few days. It's been a great chance to lie down and catch up on sleep. That, and I've finally done a bit more on this.

Remy's gone to stay at the farm with my parents. I've only had two texts so far. The first asked when in god's good name would the child have his daytime nap because my mother needed a break; and the second asked when the hell he would wake up because the puppy was bored and needed Remy to entertain him.

So, yes, I think I can conclude that all's well at the farm.

I'm working on getting better and will report back to y'all on what else has been happening in the van Rose household.

10: Things Remy did while naked this week

2009-04-24T03:00:00.000-07:00

1. Gardening.
2. Dancing.
3. Stood in front of the open freezer.
4. Rode the rocking horse.
5. Rode his bike.
6. Read stories.
7. Watched telly.
8. Greeted visitors.
9. Ate dinner.
10. Ran around the lounge like a maniac.

Outside the box

2009-04-23T04:00:00.000-07:00

Two of Remy's favourite things are stealing my mascara to apply to wherever/whatever he pleases, and cleaning his ears.

This week, he killed two birds with one stone by using the mascara wand to clean his ears.

What a genius.

Walking on broken glass (specifically, what was previously a pyrex roasting dish).

2009-04-23T03:24:00.000-07:00

Small things that totally got my goat today

2009-04-16T20:28:00.000-07:00

1. Our fire is pouring smoke into the kitchen and lounge, the bathroom floor is still just exposed wood (because the lino was ripped out), the fridge door is broken and the dishwasher is a nightmare to use - all of this because our landlord is one lazy SOB that likes taking the rent money but not taking care of the property.

2. There are people who insist on asking me when I am going to have another child.

3. In terms of levels of annoyance, they are followed closely by people who ask me if I'm pregnant.

4. There is someone in our house who eats all the good chocolates from the selection box. His name starts with J and ends with ULES.

(No actual goats were harmed in the making of this post).

Today is my birthday*

2009-04-16T01:25:00.000-07:00

*if 'today' was actually last Sunday then this statement would be totally, totally not a lie.

All my life I have reminded people of my big day about 11 months in advance. All my life.

And this year, I go and forget that it's my birthday until 9am ON THE DAY. What the hell is wrong with me? Is 31 the new memory loss drug?

So, please forgive me for trying to trick you with the title. It's just that I also forgot to blog about it and let everyone in the whole wide world** know that I had a birthday this year.

** Another small lie - as my stats will attest, the whole wide world does not read my blog. Sigh.

5ives: Things I don't really understand

2009-04-12T17:24:00.001-07:00

1. The dark side of the moon.

2. Geography.

3. How to parellel park.

4. Microwaves.

5. MMP.

The universe told me to. That's why.

2009-04-10T16:47:00.000-07:00

I love this time of year. All chilly but sometimes gloriously sunny and not so dark that I feel like hiding under the duvet for the rest of my life.

And, I don't know why, but Autumn is my time of year for sorting out my goals and my life in general. I feel positive, uplifted and like I can do anything.

So, after seeing the words "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" twice in one sitting in front of the laptop, I have determined that my winter is best spent watching every single episode of Buffy ever made.

How will you be spending your winter?

Treasures from our nature walk

2009-04-10T03:35:00.000-07:00

I'm not much into the outdoors. Or exercise. I usually find everything I need and want in the comfort of the indoors.

But I know that it's important for Remy to get plenty of exposure to different things and he needs a whole lotta running around everyday to get his wiggles out.

So we've started going for little adventures together. Sometimes we both walk, but Remy really likes riding his bike on the footpath next to me. We take a bag with us so we can collect treasures.

These are our treasures from today. They make the house smell like Christmas - YUM!

The day my carpet regretted

2009-04-08T02:35:00.000-07:00

Painting these postcards with Remy was ... an experience? a disaster? a lesson?

He spent most of the time eating the paint (it was non-toxic, but still), and telling me "don't!", whenever I said that the paint was for the paper, not his mouth.

I like the cards, and doing arty crafty stuff together is great fun, but man it was hard and messy work. We won't be attempting this again for a while!

An hour of my life wasted here:

2009-04-08T02:25:00.000-07:00

Believe it or not, this is actually folded washing. It just doesn't look it.

(WARNING: Due to the nature of housework, this post may reappear everyday for ever and ever).

In the garden this week...

2009-04-06T02:05:00.000-07:00

The silver lining of planting late, like, really late.

Smiling with his eyes

2009-04-04T20:28:00.000-07:00

I love this little guy with all my heart, but I do wish that he would leave some things alone. Like, for example, my mascara:

Communing with nature

2009-04-04T20:21:00.000-07:00

Memories

2009-04-03T23:10:00.000-07:00

Isn't it funny how sometimes memories come back out of the blue?

Two for today:

1. The first time I was pretty sure I was pregnant with Remy was when I threw up in the street on my way to work.

2. The only time ever that I have been awake to witness the changing of the time between daylight savings and, um, normal time was last autumn.

My baby had his first haircut

2009-04-03T02:48:00.000-07:00

Suffering for my art

2009-04-03T01:30:00.000-07:00

I watch too much TV. Specifically, I watch faaaaaaaaar too much 'reality' TV. I just don't know why I do this to myself.

Watching this crap gets me sooooo freaking mad. The people, oh lord, the people. The people drive me crazy.

Like, right now, I'm watching Bridezillas. (I know. Once again, why on earth do I subject myself to this rot?). There is a woman on here who refers to herself in the third person. She also calls herself a queen. Not in that fun Oooo-look-at-me-I'm-a-flighty-fun-drama-queen way; she calls herself a queen because she believes she deserves to be treated like royalty. Why? Because she says so.

Too much. Just too, too much.

So why do I watch it? Is there some lovely chemical reaction in my brain? Am I relieved to find that there are people far harder to live with than myself?

Let's have some quiet time and try and forget about this.