You naughty girl...

Well, here's a bit of news, Gentle Readers... I snuck out today (note:  it's the second Tuesday, so I'm not at work)... up to a purveyor of electrical goods, and run a covetous hand over the Asus Transformer Pad... and then I... bought one.

You know I've never had any luck with getting the Samsung Tab to work with Blogger, and yet, here we are, working away.  The Font & Size icons work just beautifully, but I can't out how to get a picture out of Google Images into the text yet... but I'm on it.

So.  Anybody want to buy my Samsung Tablet?  Going cheap!

Ciao!

Third time is enemy action...

On Tuesdays once a fortnight, I don't go to work.  I stay at home, and do stuff like this:

Ah, perfect day.  A second visit to the Doctor, lunch with my lovely MIL, sewing, putting the bins out, finding my wallet, tube of mascara, phone case and a knitting needle under the passenger seat in the car, buying dinner, proofreading a story written by Master H, a spot of Spooks (season 8, Mr Golightly being somewhat behindhand with his viewing) and then some knitting.

Tomorrow I have to go back to the August Institution, even though my lovely Dottoressa* gave me another two days off to deal with the lingering lurgy, and I will be finishing the performance reviews for my team.  That's the only reason I'm going in, really.  Otherwise I could be at home making more elephants.

I wish.

Ciao!

"...Twice is co-incidence..."

I had no idea Ian Fleming said that whole thing - I do love it, I have to say, having first read it in a book by one of my favourite authors, Lois McMaster Bujold.  The whole saying goes "First time is happenstance, second time is co-incidence, third time is enemy action".  Lying here in bed with my second bout of the nasty for this year makes me wonder if this little maxim applies to me... and then I started wondering what a maxim actually was...

You see, Gentle Readers, where my brain takes me when I'm ill?  Into the weird and arcane world of words.  I was reading "My Grammar and I" the other night, loving the way it changed my view about "people who" and "things that", but supported my view about nouns of mass - "no amount of things here" - and wondering if that made me truly odd.  And then I thought "probably".  I've been firming up my vocabulary quite nicely by playing Wordfeud a bit, with a bunch of people, and I've used great words like 'thine' and 'sucre' and 'drib' and 'fart' and 'turd', so you can see it's not great works of academe... but it is improving.

Digressing (see?) somewhat, I've just been to see my lovely Dottoressa*, who's given me the rest of the week off - again.  Man.  The only way this could be any better is if I wasn't sick, so I could knit, write, sew, cook, clean.  Hey, let's not get carried away here...

My lovely Ma & Hank are off to Bali tomorrow morning at 6.00am (shudder) for 10 days of warmth and sun, MGF Kaz & Az are in Europe enjoying the last days of summer in England, then moving across to France, for Vintage, in Burgundy, no kidding.  Bastards, all of them.

In other news of huge importance, I took up the fantastic suggestion from The Peppermint Penguin and flicked over to Ravelry, where I probably haven't been for more than a year, to look for patterns for hats for little boys.  I found a couple of goodies:



http://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/gooseberry-hat (free download)




http://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/aston (free download)


http://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/easy-peasy-newborn-sock-hat (free download)

I love Ravelry.  Such a nice feeling about a site where people are kind enough to share their patterns, no crap about "you can do this or that with them".  Even the patterns for sale are very reasonably priced - 

Even the one I bought today (for me, not the Bub) was only C$6.50.  That's almost unheard of here, where patterns, like yarn, are relatively expensive.  My favourite Filatura Di Crosa yarn is retailing at US$11.00 on the net, but we're being charged A$14.50/ball.  And the Aussie dollar is above the US Dollar.  Makes me mad... and our shops wonder why we don't buy from them anymore?

Off to the needles.  Ciao!



 *Doctor

Tempus fugits (Part III)

It's a sad, sad indictment of my life that I seem to be only able to find time to post when I'm at home sick.. which I am.  Again.  Sore throat, dry wheezy cough, sore ears, sore eyes.  Yesterday I felt a little off, and somebody kindly pointed out that the usual colour in my cheeks had highlighted itself to be ugly blotches, and my eyes were red and watery.  Ick.  

What's been happening?  I had a very pleasant outing with MBF to the Church Point churchyard (yes, that's why it's called Church Point, because there used to be a church as well as a churchyard) to take some pictures with Miss N & Master H... it wasn't particularly atmospheric, but terribly overgrown.  Such a shame...

I've bought bits and piece of fabrics...

Some of these are old favourites, some are a new adventure.  All gorgeous though...

And in exciting family news, Mr Golightly's middle niece, Miss Emma, has given birth to her first baby, a boy named Isaac Phillip, - a fantastic name, given that Mr Golightly's actual given name is Phillip - apparently it's a tribute to Mr Golightly's awesome uncle-ness.  Nice.  I've ordered some fantastic baby burp cloths:

and I'm looking to make a cot quilt in similar colours - eventually... And I've been sussing out the knitting patterns for babies, but interestingly, most of them seem to be targeted at girls.  I don't know if it's just my imagination, but they just all seem a bit fluffy.  Anyway, I've started knitting a rib tube, which is pretty cute, and I'll post a picture when it's finished - it has surfaced before, looking like this:

Much as I find knitting rib boring, it does make a very cute hat... 

I'm making a doorstop for Mr Golightly's lovely Ma, cut out and pieced, but gone no further...

Phew.  I just ran out of energy.  Back to bed.  Ciao!

Making it right...

Here's a record, Gentle Readers, three in one day.  What's the connection?  Not at work, I'm thinking, and therefore not knackered, and able to think of other things.  I even cooked dinner last night using fresh vegies.  Wow.


Anyway, you know that I might have been feeling just a tad, a really small tad, guilty about the purchase of the Singer Heavy Duty machine before I sold the Industrial machine, but then, on Sunday night (note:  still feeling crap, but I said I'd deliver, so I had to deliver), I got to use The Seaminator (maybe I should just call him Arnie, and the other one Danny?) to fix MBF Deb's work pants, and all my guilt fled.


I hate doing repairs, Gentle Readers, it's one of those things my mother drilled into me at a very young age - don't admit to being able to do repairs, or people will be bringing their crappy jeans from far and wide, and you'll never get to make anything you want to:

Anyway, Deb's lovely Ma, the gorgeous Clare, did a patch on this particular pair of crappy jeans some time ago, but it was starting to show its age... Could I help?  

Well, it was a good test of both my skill, and the capacity of the machine.  After a bit of thinking, I decided the safest way to do it would be to split the side seam, fix the patch, then restitch the side seam.  Easy!

Good as new.  That'll be $60, thanks.

That's it for now.  I can feel a nap coming on, before I get started on tonight's dinner, sausage and mash with pumpkin.  Mr Golightly doesn't know what's hit him.  

Ciao!

What is that smell?

Here we go, I'm on a roll.  You know how it is in our house, nothing happens for a very long time, Gentle Readers, and then wham!  Everything happens.  I sold the industrial sewing machine.  Yay!  I advertised it in a free online shopping forum whose name is not dissimilar to Bumtree, and a lovely lady called Michelle came round on Saturday morning (note:  me not showered, feeling crap, and not in a very good humour) & wanted it immediately, for the asking price.  Well.  How could I say no?  I couldn't.  


After dicking around for about half an hour trying to decide if we could carry it down the front steps (read:  not bloody likely), Lovely Michelle very smartly noticed that our french doors at the back connect almost seamlessly to the side path, and so Mr Golightly and I wheeled it down the path, and the five of us (Michelle's sister, daughter, Michelle, Mr Golightly and poor sick me) hoisted it into her van, and off she went.  Hooray!


So that's good.  What's the downside, I hear you asking.  Well, Gentle Readers, as we were outside (where we haven't really been for a fortnight, given that we spent last weekend in Perth), a particular smell wafted over towards us.  Something had, most inconsiderately, died in our garden, close enough to the house to smell it.  Ick.  Even if my snot-infested nose, I could smell it.  


Anyway, after disposing of the happy purchaser and her happy family, we returned to the back of the house to find this:


**Warning** If you're squeamish, don't look!!

It's a very dead brushtail possum.  Under our barbeque.  Ick.  Mr Golightly got the shovel, and gave the poor thing a decent burial.  We have no idea how long it had been there, but summer's acoming, and I'm pretty sure our first summer lunch outside does not require the addition of eau-de-dead-possum.

Ciao!

Rein, deer?

So, Gentle Readers, I am unwell.  I can distinctly remember the last time I had five full days off work; it was in 2006, and we had just finished moving back into our beautifully renovated house, my lovely Ma and Hank were visiting, and I got a chest infection.  Not just any old chest infection, you understand, but the sort that fills you so full of sticky green slime that when friends ring up to find out where you are, you can't even talk to them, because your airways are full of said sticky green slime.  It was truly disgusting.


Anyway, I have fallen victim to one of the three or four viruses doing the rounds of the office, which started with just a light head cold, many thanks to Mr Golightly for passing that to the whole household, but unlike him, I didn't take to my bed for 24 hours; I just kept going to work & blowing my germs all over the office.  On Friday last week, I even went along to our Annual Christmas In July lunch at a hotel in town; anything less festive I have yet to experience, but a lot of food was consumed, and no small amount of alcohol, but I left at 3.00pm, heading for bed.


Saturday was the worst day, Sunday not much better, Monday I thought "this is ridiculous" and rang the Doctor.  First available appointment:  10.00am yesterday.  Lucky it was my 9-day fortnight day, and I wasn't going into work anyway.  Lovely woman that she is, my doctor took one look at me, listened to my chest, looked down my throat and in my ears, and banished me to bed for the rest of the week.  Well, strictly speaking, she said "stay at home", so I'm still feeling pretty crap, but I'm in the sewing room, and that's got to be a good thing (for me, and possibly even for you!)...


Some fabric has been purchased since we last spoke:

I found a new shop in Mona Vale, called Patchwork on Pittwater, and I went a bit nuts with bits and pieces of all of these - I think the Amy Butler might end up as a cushion, because it is rather gorgeous... 


In other news of somewhat more importance than feeding my fabric addiction, Mr Golightly's lovely niece Emma F-G is very soon going to have her baby, and I, somewhat fruitlessly, I might add, scoured through my books yesterday looking for something I could make for the baby, truly unnamed, but known to some of us as Linus.  That's a bit like the artist formerly known as Prince, isn't it?  Maybe he needs to become Prince Linus?  Oooh, I like that.


Anyway, I found a pattern for a reindeer (yes, a reindeer - didn't you know they're going to be the next big thing after monkeys, owls and talking cats...) in this book.  Hers was all white fleecy, graceful embroidery and felt.  Mine is .... not.

Cute, yes?  Those antlers were a bugger, let me tell you.


Ciao!