Raindrops keep falling on my head...

I love nights like tonight. It's pouring with rain and I'm nice and cozy in my little house with my little boy all tucked up in bed. The sound of rain on our iron roof is extra soothing after all this stinking, sticky heat. I can think again.

We've been co-sleeping since Remy was born and now it's time he moved into his cot. He's spent a little time in there already but has recently developed this habit of screaming whenever I take him near it. Hrm. Definitely a signal that there are some tough and yell-ish times ahead.

I saw this fabulous post on Wisecraft, and some of the comments after the post mentioned how useful these little rice pillows are for babies moving into their own beds.

It took me about a tenth of a second from reading those comments to pulling material out of my stash to make one.

And here it is:

And here's Remy test driving it:

Sorry, it's a bit blurry because he was rolling about like a clown. Notice those bags under his eyes? I have matching ones.

A couple of Remy's wee baby friends are also having some trouble sleeping so I'm going to whip up a few for them too. On those ones I'm going to add a little something extra. You know, because more is more.

And the winners are...(down at the bottom of the page)

So please send me your address (glenbervierose[at]gmail[dot]com) and I'll pop your prezzie in the post!

I know there have been quite a few links lately and not a whole lotta crafting buuuuuuuuuut, well, you know how it is. You go have a baby and all of a sudden you have no time. And when you do have time all you want to do is sit down and have a cup of tea and stare into space.

So here's another link. I'm considering getting rid of my Facebook account for this.

Oh yeah. And I forgot to say when I was going to do the draw for my 100 posts. I think we'll try and attempt it tomorrow. I'll see if Remy fancies it in the morning.

Oh! How linktastic!

You know the annoying thing about the interwebs? There are so many great crafty blogs out there that I end up reading about what other people are making, thus taking up valuable time that I could use to make stuff myself. But, sheesh, I got rid of the telly so there is no way on god's green Earth I'm going on an internet diet.

I read something insane like 80 blogs on a regular basis. Not all crafty-related but mostly they are about creativity of one type of other. Oh! That reminds me - have you guys got onto Bloglines yet? If you read more than about 10 blogs a day, this site is invaluable. It lets you know when blogs are updated - no more fury at the favourite blogger whose site you check every day but who only updates once a month - and it's just as thrilling as getting new, fun email.

Some of the places in that long list of 80 blogs that I hang out at include:

BettyNinga's blog is full of ninga goodness. And I love her introduction: Being a ninga is all about being crafty. Inspired.

My blog doppelganger and general object of envy is over here at Tales of the Red-Headed Devil Child and her Geeky Mother. I'm very proud to say that she cyber-stalked me and invited me to lunch. And she's going to knit me some tiny little pants soon for the gorgeous daughter of a friend! Yay!

I want to buy every single thing over at HeartFelt. Ahh, to have a life like Jannelle and the talent she has to find these little clothes and improve them outtasight.

Dooce.com. I found this site via Wanda Harland (another all-time favourite) and I love it. The photos are fab and the woman is HILARIOUS.

I seem to have run out of steam. So tired. Golly, yes, it's past my bedtime. More linktastic links coming your way the next time I feel the urge.

Why? How come? WHY?

This man is a frickin genius.

Favourite so far: Why can't I cook my sister?

Sometimes things aren't made the way you'd expect...

We are living in a material world

It's been a remarkably crappy day in our house today. Literally. Is there nothing more fascinating to a 7 month old boy than his own poo?

I'll spare you the details.

I had to walk to The Terrace this morning (a jaunty 2 hour return trip) and on the way I had to pass many, many of the old shops that I used to haunt when I had a job where they paid me what now seems like an outrageous sum of money. Oh, such good times were had back then. Shopping, purchasing, spending, accumulating...

As much as I would like to be stoic about being poor, there are some days when it's impossible. Like the days when the cutest little winter t-bar heels stare at me through open shop doors or when this season's cropped and fitted jackets call to me through the glass. Sigh.

All of this, of course, is just an excuse to post this: