Yes, Remaining Gentle Readers, I am up at 3.09am blogging, but as usual, there are sound reasons for this (you know I can justify just about anything, don't you?)... I've had a very sore throat since returning from Bali, probably thanks to the four-year-old screamer on the plane who kept everybody else from sleeping - poor little mite, his cough sounded like he could do with cutting down to 60 a day, no, really - so I trotted off to the Doctor today, and have been dosed up with antibiotics and antihistamines. In addition to the hayfever and sinusitis, I have something called 'glue ear', which my lovely Ma tells me is what little kids get, and yes, I am too old to have grommets.
Anyway, these antibiotics have some interesting side-effects, one of which is the inducement (is that a word?) of heartburn. I've done heartburn. I don't want to do it anymore. I spent months taking Nexium, sleeping upright, not eating after 7.30pm (very boring if you want to go out for dinner & have more than one course!), keeping the pack of chewable quickeze by the bed, in the handbag, in the desk drawer, and I don't want to do it any more. Did I just say that? Oh. Well, it is 3.14am.
The other factor could well be that I made an amazing thing for dinner (and note the date and time, Remaining Gentle Readers, because I am going to talk about cooking here), with sausages, sweet potatoes, potatoes, corn and a jar of Butter Chicken sauce. The rest I leave to your imagination, but suffice it to say, I ate too much of this culinary marvel, and the combination of greed and antibiotics has me up at 3.16am.
I have spent some quality time this morning reading other blogs, including the lovely FlickettySplits, who is now in Bahrain, working on her jetlag and in training for the Bahrain Marathon, the end result of which will be me being mentioned in her will, and the arrival of lots of fabric on her demise, which we both think will be part way through afore-mentioned Bahrain Marathon.
What else is there for me to tell you? I am working on some stuffed christmas trees for the lovely Kerry, who is my beautician, to put in her window (and I mean 'stuffed with fibrefill, not 'rooted'*), and the lovely lady who runs one of the nicer homewares shops in our small town has said she will look at my handmade wares (once I get over being sick) with a view to selling them in her shop.
What's driving this? When we went to the Southern Highlands we saw a rather nice shop selling some nifty things, but the prices were unbelievable - a doorstop for $80. Matryoshka dollies stuffed* with fibrefill and with a bell inside, for $21 (each) and felt badges for $25. Now, Remaining Gentle Readers, I know what you're thinking. If they're in a shop, they must be good, right? This comes right back to the argument about handmade funky versus mass-produced funky, and the reasoning behind paying exorbitant amounts of money for funky stuff if it's in a shop versus on, say, Etsy, or MadeIt, or some other online store.
Anyway, I figure if somebody can stuff* a Matryoshka doll with fibrefill & a bell & sell it for $21, I can sell a set of three dollies stuffed* with lavender for $15. So, all you readers with money and more sense, go to my shop and buy from me. It's much better value!
Now. It's 3.32am. I am going to attempt to return to my bed and sleep. If I seem a little tetchy next time, you'll know why!
*stuffed - insert filling
*rooted - had the dick
*had the dick - had the bomb
*had the bomb - knackered
*knackered - bought the farm