Just in case you thought you'd seen the last of me today...

You were obviously wrong.  I've had a productive day, finishing the last of the pouches ordered by my WMIL, and also whipping up an order for the lovely Xine67, who wanted something made with this gorgeous Marimekko fabric:

So today, we did this:

And here are the finished smaller ones:

And now I'm thinking about Paddle Pops, Magnums, Streets Blue Ribbon Vanilla... various forms of ice cream.  Yum.

How time flies...

When you're having fun... not.  For the best part of the last two weeks, I appear to have been in a time-warp.  Apparently I got up each day, did the things you do before appearing in public, went to work, came home, ate, recreated, slept and then did it again.  Apparently.  Anyway, my Ma and Lovely Hank will be appearing on Thursday night,  disgorged from the innards of a plane, here for two things - Ma's birthday (1st December), and early Christmas.


In the meantime, we cleaned, tidied, sewed, did personal maintenance items, visited the newly opened supermercato in our little town, went to a 50th Birthday party (happy birthday Sharon), took delivery of a package, painlessly, and not so painlessly did not take delivery of another package... wait, I have a question - is "took delivery of" an americanism?   Would the anglo-saxons reading this please pass judgement on whether there is another phrase I can use to say "a parcel was delivered"... thank you.  Now, where was I?  Oh yes, the non-painfree parcel delivery.  


Here's how it goes:  I ordered something which I consider to be very useful, but which others amongst you might go "what a waste of money".  The website was very clear that they would be delivered by courier.  OK, fine, but as you know, we are generally not in the Golightly house during the day, so the nice person leaves a card saying "you must ring to arrange delivery".  OK, so I ring and arrange.  And then, caught up in timewarp of work that I am, I forget to put the card on the door, so when the person comes back again, all they leave is another card.  Damn.  So then I ring up to find out when they can come again.


"If we have already made two attempts to deliver the parcel, we won't attempt to deliver it again".  


"Where does it say that on the card?"  "It's on our website Madam" [yeah right]


"OK, so can I pay you to deliver it to my house?"  "No".  "I can't pay you to deliver it?"
"No". [No wriggle room here, kids.  What fantastic customer service].


"OK, so can I hire you to collect it from, say, yourselves, and deliver it to my house?"  "Yes, but you have to pay upfront at this office". 


(Does anybody else see the problem here?)


"OK, can I pay by credit card, over the phone?"  "No, you have to pay cash upfront at the office".


"OK, let me see, this is the 21st century and you don't take credit cards?"  "No, cash or cheque up front".


"So, do you see my problem?  If I have to come & pay you to deliver it to my house, I might as well pick it up".   "You can collect it from us".


"I can collect it from you?"  "Yes".


"Where are you"?  "6 Hill Road, Sydney Olympic Park".  1.7 kilometres from the office I'll be sitting in on Tuesday.  10 minutes by car.


Honestly, I felt like the lunatics had truly taken over the asylum.  Yes, we can deliver it to your house if you come in & pay in cash for the delivery.  I swear to Ghod! 


On a happier note, I delivered the last of the Toy Bags to the lovely Kerrie:

and I've had an order from my WMIL* for 4 pouches, and this is what I chose:

and.. I made a tote bag for Miss Mandy's niece, my first go at one of these & it wasn't too bad - but I think the straps are a bit long... I got the pattern from here, and I had one of those funny moments where you get it all cut out & pinned and you think it's going to end up being 2 feet long & only 4 inches wide.  Then you realise you've got it pinned round the wrong way.  D'oh... Like the first time I made pyjamas - I thought I was going to have to chop 60 centimetres off my legs & add on 30 kilos, then I realised I needed to turn them round... funny.  Kind of.


It needs pressing, but it came out ok:

I lined it too.  Hope she likes it - I remember being incredibly fussy at 15 (and I still am!) but if Miss Mandy is her favourite Aunt, it might just slide past the 'cool' criteria'...


And last night we went to a friend's 50th birthday party - and MWH* dressed up, special like:

Isn't that an amazing outfit?  The trousers were Mr Golightly's University Graduation Suit from 1985, (that was the 20th Century), complete with, grass and rust stains, and a split up the back where he'd slightly, ever so slightly, grown just a little bit too big for them... the shirt was his father's from about 1970, with gorgeous embroidery, pockets, rust stains and the most incredibly pointed collar, and the jacket, "Mr Don", 100% woven polyester, thanks so much, was from an Recycled Clothing Store in Newtown.  Needless to say, as the party wasn't actually fancy dress, just "wigs and hats", he stood out like a peacock amongst the crows.  Stunning.  Oh, and the wording on the hat, I hear you say?

He's all class.




  

OMG, somebody pour me onto the couch...

7.00am & I'm awake, so it must be Sunday.  Ick.  Up.  Peanut butter & honey on raisin toast & irish breakfast tea (twinings, of course).  3 slices (naughty but nice).  Somebody left the cake out in the rain... no, no, stop that.  Somebody put the peanut butter in the fridge.  Fine for them as likes their toast hot.  Not so fine for the refined types who also frequent this hotel & like their toast cold.  Cold peanut butter is very hard to spread.  


Spend an inordinate amount of time looking for two particular fabrics, which I have in my tiny mind as being in a big box.  But of course they aren't, are they?  They're in a small box, and it takes me 30 minutes to find them. Put on load of washing.  Go outside in PJ's & inspect existing loads of washing on line from yesterday.  Nearly dry.  Check sky.  Nearly damp.  Decide to live a little & risk it.  20 minutes later, emerging from shower to hear rain falling down drain pipe.  Curse.


Rush outside (back in PJ's) & salvage washing.  Hang to dry on newly acquired aluminium clothes horse, guaranteed never to rust.  The horse, that is, not the washing.  I have had clothing rust, but a paste of lemon juice & salt will get rid of rust stains quite nicely, I've discovered.  Go back inside & continue the cutting out thingy.  Keep working on that until MWH arises at 9.30am, discuss day's program with him, put washing out, put next load of washing on... keep cutting and sewing, cutting and sewing...


Pop out at 11.00 to buy the Birthday BBQ for MWH, god, how much fun is that (not).  Stainless steel versus cast iron, number of burners, hood versus no hood, built-in versus trolley, natural gas versus LPG... then home again to do more toy bag sewing, strip the bed, another load of washing, iron things for work tomorrow, pop out again to pick up the BBQ from the shop, more washing (god, was it interminable this weekend or what?), cook dinner... god what a day.  


yada yada yada...


On happier, less domestic notes, the Tree Waratah in our front garden has flowered, for the first time since it went in, in 2005.  It's going to be gorgeous when it reaches its full 10 metres:

Our native Magnolia is also flowering, a bit harder to see, but given away by the buzzing of bees which flock to the gorgeous creamy white flowers:

Two of the toy bags are finished:

and one to go... 

this is controversial... be warned

I just stopped reading a blog I've been following for a while; I was going to write a big fat post about why I stopped reading it, and then I thought, "why?"... tell the truth, I'm not a fan of hypocrites. I don't like people who put shit on other people but who can't take a little constructive criticism themselves... and I don't like whiners. If you have a roof, hot and cold running water, food in the fridge, pay-tv and access to the internet, you are better off than a billion other people who live on less than US$1.00 per day, and people in the richest country in the world are better off than most.

That is all. Normal service will be resumed shortly.

Tasmania, so Beautiful

(How green your gardens are... is it some kind of blasphemy, do you think, to co-opt the tune of a slightly known number by Samuel A Ward...?

Tasmania is lovely, all green rolling hills, amazing mountains and fantastic gardens:

Does anybody know what these are? They grow into a bush, all purple & blue, like a big blueberry in the garden.

This somewhat large tree was in the Churchyard at Deloraine, with a rather interesting bunch of cast-iron frames around the graves...

We made some new friends:

And yes, the liver-coloured lovely is peeing. Talk about timing...

And we saw some beautiful flowers, and the occasional insect!

And we spent time looking at this (my personal favourite):

Oh yes, and there was craft:

And while I was away, these arrived:

Ah, joy. Holidays and fabric. Bliss.