Packages

Gone are the days of "brown paper packages tied up with string", but packages are still one of my favourite things. This little pile of gifts and challenges arrived yesterday morning. There's a sweet little parcel tied up with pretty ribbon which I can't open until my birthday. I've also been told not to squeeze it . . . intriguing! Then there are two large pieces of fabric making their second interstate journey: a length of red wool-blend suiting and some purple seersucker. These have travelled from Melbourne to my friend D's house/s in Queensland, but have remained in her sewing space with their destinies unfulfilled. They've come back to Melbourne to see what I can do with them. I'm thinking about cutting up the red to make some scarves/wraps and the purple might just become part of a fun summer skirt for me. The red floral fabric is part of a party hosted by D at her blog, Make Mine Silk. The challenge is to turn the fabric into something and blog about it. I'll have to get my creative juices going on that one. By the way, invitations to that party are open, so follow the link if you'd like to take part. There's a challenge of a different sort obscured by the hand-written note. That's a pair of fingerless mittens I made out of my handspun wool-silk. The moths have had a nibble at them. I have to find a way of securing the frayed ends and darning the hole, so D can enjoy them--hopefully this winter.

Australia post is going to do pretty well out of us this month, because the mittens will soon join a pile of warm pretty things which has been building up at my house ready to send up to my friends in Queensland. Then it will be D's turn to open up her package and enjoy the gifts and challenges I've packed up for her.

An Apple, A Day

I've been challenging myself lately about the clothes I wear. Not the everyday, working around the house, messing with fibres and dyes clothes--I'm quite happy with old black or navy tracksuits for that. But for out and about, teaching and presenting myself to the public clothes, I'd like to take a little more care and be a little more adventurous. When I came across a pair of finely striped red on black trousers at a factory outlet recently I wasn't too sure. With the encouragement of a friend and an enthusiastic sales assistant I decided to risk it.

Reality check: the red stipe is there, but it's subtle and irregular and interesting. I like it, but I'm not about to team it with a red top. Not just yet anyway. I have no shortage of black t-shirts, though, so all I needed was a little touch of red to carry the theme through. Enter the button box. I've been picking over it lately for inspiration and adornment. I found one--just one--cute little red apple button. Not quite enough to make a statement on it's own, but with the back up of a couple of larger buttons and the addition of a funky pin, it turned into this: I wore it yesterday and was happy: new trousers, black t-shirt, little red apple pin. It was just what I needed for a day when I had to present myself in public with a bit of extra get up and go. And being a pin, I haven't commited the t-shirt to the touch of red. Yesterday, an apple, today . . . who knows? I'm not planning to head out for a while, so I'm happy in my old tracksuit. Just right for cleaning up after a crazy weekend.

The DIY Disaster, Part 2

Yesterday was dominated by my DIY Disaster. In the morning episode I was preparing to install a laundry cupboard when I hit a water pipe with my drill. I think the image of a jet of water following my drill bit out of the wall and expanding into a bubble in the plaster will remain with me for a long time.

The current state of affairs is this:
My neighbour came and opened a window in my wall so we could inspect the damage. You can see a neat hole in the timber stud and the pipes passing through that same stud. In fact there are two neat holes. The slightly lower one being from the previous set of shelves in that same location. I guess I was lucky that time.

You can also see a join in the pipe to the left of the stud. That join is new. It was the object of much attention and effort on my part yesterday. Basically the damaged section of pipe was cut out and replaced it. I learned a lot about plumbing. I learned a lot about my capacity to work under pressure. I learned a lot about my neighbour's skill, experience and generosity. By the time D returned from his lunch engagement, I'd been to the hardware store, bought the necessary parts and made several attempts at making the necessary joins. I'd managed one water-tight connection, but was unable to make the connection back to the remainder of the plumbing because of the location of the stud. D cut the pipes to different length to move the join to a better location and then completed the job for me. He's even promised to come back in a few days and close up the wall once things have had a chance to dry out.

To get the full picture of my situation, you have to superimpose this plumbing scenario onto an incomplete batch of procion dyeing, with skeins in various stages of rinsing and a drying rack full of fabrics, yarns and my weekly wash. Add to that several fleeces, waiting in the bathtub for my attention and the fact that it's a long, long time since the bathroom got a proper clean. Oh, and I'm in the middle of a mouse plague, having trapped three small mice and one monster mouse in the kitchen over the weekend. And I'm supposed to be avoiding too much stress for the sake of my mental health!

Groan or Giggle?

Today's post was going to be a peppy progress report on my laundry storage. I've been fantasising about having some good cupboards above the washing machine and laundry tub. This week I bought some--flat-packed of course. I started this morning with a quick coffee, breakfast and assembly of the first cupboard. My friend W arrived just before ten to help me to attach the cupboard to the wall. That's definitely a two person job. Well, at that point, things went pear-shaped. What you see below is a very wet floor:Let's put it this way, my enthusiasm was quickly hosed down! I drilled through a water pipe which was quietly sitting behind the wall where no water pipe should be. The first I knew of it was a fine, strong jet of water in my face from the point in the wall where I'd just pulled out the drill bit. Things moved very quickly from there. W and I rushed outside to turn the water off at the main. I must admit I simultaneously spent a few minutes swearing not too quietly. The next step was a moment of hysterical giggling followed by a call to the plumber whose fridge magnet is there just for moments like this. He can come on Tuesday afternoon. Tuesday afternoon is only two days away, but that feels like a very long time.

W had to go. She's off on holidays tomorrow, and apart from sympathy, there's not much she can do to help me now. Just as she drove off the neighbours started to surface. I swallowed my pride, knocked on the door and shared my story. D from next door is a handy handy man. He's promised to come over when he's had a coffee and something to eat and see what he can do. Meanwhile, I'm blogging--to get it off my chest. Next I'll make a few calls to secure myself a bed for tonight. After that, I guess I'll gather my courage and assemble another cupboard. I'm working on the principle that one way or another the bathroom will reach some semblance of order. It may be a while.

Seeing is Believing

My optometrist was a major feature of the last week. I've had reading glasses for a couple of years, but treated them as a minor inconvenience. Lately, though, I've been noticing a fair bit of eye-strain and some blurring of my distance vision. I made an appointment to have my eyes checked. The news was not good. Not only had my close vision deteriorated--as might be expected at my age--but so had my distance vision. The glasses I'd been prescribed weren't quite right. That, combined with my passion for small details of fibre, meant that my eyes were sacrificing their ability to focus at a distance and locking into the close work. I was prescribed not one, not two, but three different pairs of glasses to cope with the demands on my vision. I got a spare pair thrown in for good measure. Now I have glasses for reading, knitting and other close work; another pair for weaving and computer work and yet another pair for teaching and other situations where I need to change quickly from close to distant focus. Phew! This is going to take some getting used to, quite apart from how long it will take my budget to recover from the shock.

This morning was the first test of my new regime. This is black t-shirt dress-up number two: 16 different tiny blue buttons. I originally planned to range them all neatly around the neckline, but by the time I got to half way I rebelled and scattered the rest in a zig-zag pattern. I stitched for an hour solid: black thread on black fabric.
No eye-strain, no locking . . . seeing is not only believing, it's relieving!

From Ho-Hum to Happy

The saga of the black-on-black transformations continues . . .

A few evenings ago I picked over my button collection. It's amazing what a wealth of memories that jar holds! I separated out groups of buttons I thought I could use to dress up some of my black t-shirts. Yesterday morning, while I was chatting on the phone to my friend D, I sewed on the mother of pearl set :Various sizes, with a few silver buttons thrown in for variety; arranged in a random-ish asymmetrical v-shape. I happily wore that t-shirt yesterday afternoon and didn't feel at all ordinary in it. I have set of blue buttons to try next. Meanwhile, I have yet to fully liberate my house from the Procion dye invasion. I've managed to empty three of the jars, so the end is in sight. And I'll have to write a quick post on the Quilters at Sussex blog to report on progress with the raffle quilt.

Treats

I spent a happy couple of hours stitching at my friend M's place yesterday afternoon. We used to be part of the same quilting group, but my attendance has fallen to nearly zero lately. That makes it extra good to catch up when we can. I'd asked M to spare me the temptation of any sweet treats. My resistance is particularly low with the cold weather. Instead I found these scraps of fabric on the table when I arrived: Leftover bits of silk and brocade in blues, greens and mauves, just begging to be part of something or other. I don't know what, but it was lovely to pat them and take them home. I'm thinking of doing a small bag in crazy patchork, but for now they're just fun to have and they won't cause me any problems with clothes not fitting properly.