Is it wrong that I am watching Sesame Street? Alone?
While you ponder that question I will keep going.
Life has changed. BIG TIME. I just had this awesome/horrifying flashback to this time a few years ago when I would have loved to still be in my PJ's at 9am. Instead I was running around in heels, late for work in the city. Large double-shot-skim latte in one hand, mobile in the other texting the girls about where Friday night drinks would be.
Never in a million years did I think I would be living in suburbia on the Gold Coast with a baby, doing my best impression of a stay-at-home Mum and housewife. Sigh. I do look back fondly at those days.
It isn't with a heavy heart I write this though. I adore my life - even if my husband thinks otherwise when he walks in the door at 6pm each night. I am reminded often of how lucky I am to be able to work from home (or not at all) and still have a comfortable roof over my head.
The curse of the suburban housewife has also sparked a few other memories. My own childhood in suburban Sydney in the late 70s and 80s. A time when we had no footpath on Castle Hill Road, Cherrybrook didn't exist and summer consisted of a long drive to Mona Vale beach or playing under the sprinkler.
The smell of jasmine and blossoms filled each September day with the promise of warmth and fun times ahead. As each day inched ever so longer, afternoons after school would be filled with playing in the backyard with friends (real or imaginary) in the sandpit or collecting snails. I remember once I was at a 'little friend's' house after school and we had each found about 3 snails each in her garden. Her Mum put mine in a snaplock bag to take home and as I sat in the back of Mum's Datsun 1600 on the short drive home I started sucking the the corner of the bag - yes I was an odd child! Suddenly I accidentally inhaled a peice of plastic. Terrified of what would happen to my snails, I didn't utter a word but spent the rest of the evening convinced I would stop breathing and drop dead. Needless to say I was fine, although I think Mum disposed of the snails rather quickly before they ate their way out and into her garden.
I look at Minky now and giggle at all the funny things she will do out in the garden.
It is her first spring.
All this has inspired me to make some pretty things that reflect all these memories. Spring flowers, caterpillars, garden pants and pretty dresses to get all muddy.
If I ever get any time to get out of my Farex-clad pj's and back behind the sewing machine!
Better go, Bananas have just started!
xxx
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Friday, August 19, 2011
I have a cat.
I have a cat. His name is Toby. He is a great big white fluffy boy with a personality that would outdo any human.
He isn't really my cat anymore though. I only had the privelidge of Toby being in my life for a short 2 years when he was a baby. My Mum is Toby's real Mum (or Meowmie as we call her). She has had him since 2001 when his amazing life took another turn, one that would see him touch many people with his big heart, soul and paws.
I came out of a horrible relationship on New Years Day 1999 after 2 years of living with someone who I loved, but did not love me. I was alone, broke and depressed in Melbourne. As you do, I got a tattoo. But that wasn't enough. I can't remember the details but somewhere in early January, on a whim, I went to The Lort Smith Animal Hospital on a mission to get a new companion.
After looking at heaps of kittens, I went to a cage with this tinsy wincey ball of white fur curled up in the corner. Toby was fast asleep and as I reached in to wake him up for a cuddle my heart melted. At first I though, "Oh no, I can't take him because he is so cute everyone will want him. I should rescue an older cat." But after a few seconds of holding this little fluffball in the palm of my hand, I couldn't let go.
Toby came home with me that day on the tram - the first of many tram trips as I didn't have a car.
Toby was a ratbag to live with. In the middle of the night if I had to get up he would hide in the dark then launch himself onto my ankles all claws and teeth. He would run up and down the stairs of my apartment block, swiping me playfully from one flight up through the bars. When I would go out Mr Tobes wouldn't come inside, he would follow me down the street, running through everyone's front yard. The times when I did lock him in, he sat mournfully at the window of my apartment watching me disapear down the road. He would still be there when I got back.
Mum and I would drive between Sydney and Melbourne for visits all the time. Toby loved curling up under the passenger seat and sleeping with the warm of the motor. He would appear at random loo stops and liked to share Hungry Jacks at the border. He even flew a few times too. I'd never leave him when I went home to Sydney for a visit. He always came with me. Everywhre! When he needed to go to the vet I would jump on a tram at Flemington with him in the cage and go down to Lort Smith for his jabs etc. I was such a poor student that I rarely bought myself tram tickets let alone my cat, but one day the inspector politely advised that Toby would need a 'child or concession' ticket to travel on the tram! He was a great traveller.
Eating my 21st croquenbouche
In 2000 my Mum moved to Germany for 3 months and in September I agreed to go and meet her there. I also got my working visa for the UK and painfully had to say goodbye to Toby. I only intended going to London for a few months so my ex moved back in to housesit. If only it were that simple.
It was a week into my trip and I was in Paris when I finally got through to my ex who hadn't been answering his phone. After a complex situation involving money, he told me he was moving out and that Toby was back at Lort Smith. I had a week to get him out. WHAT THE FUCK?!?!? I AM IN PARIS!!!!! Jump off the phone, call Lort Smith. "Sorry Ms Reason, Toby has already been here a week. You have 2 days to get him out or he will be re-homed." Mad phonecalls placed to all my friends. Thank god one of them who drove picked him up and kept him for a few days until Mum arrived home to Sydney. She then put him on the plane, and Grandma became Meowmie. My Toby was no longer mine.
He loved living with Mum, Kitty and Mitzi (her two cats). Poor Mitzi couldn't stand him (or Kitty, who happened to be her daughter. Maybe because Kitty demanded to be breastfeed until she was 1?) Mum found a new home for Mitz which was for the best. She lived out her days happy without a crazy big white boy chasing her.
Toby was the ringleader of the townhouse complex Mum lived in. There must have been up to 6 or 8 other cats there at any one time. He loved them all and anyone who came to visit. And he KNEW he was gorgeous!! Everyone knows Toby. He parades with his tail held high - his brush as we call it. He rolls around flaunting his big soft tummy begging you to scratch it. He can't walk on fences or branches. He has very little coordination. But that doesn't stop him gingerly climbing out on a limb staring at you - then walking straight into the tree trunk head first!!
He sits next to Mum each morning with his paw on her leg. He sleeps in bed with her all snuggled up. He is her best friend, her life companion.
It took many years for Tobes to forgive me for leaving. Only last year did he finally let me cuddle him and stopped hissing at me. The guilt I felt will never leave me. I was his Mummy and he went through hell.
But Toby is a survivor. I hope.
Today he had surgery. He became ill last week and an ultrasound yesterday confirmed cysts on his kidney and pancreas. He also has a heart murmer.
A cat can leave a place in your heart, but I want him to leave a greater legacy. That is why I am blogging him. He will live here forever. In my heart, under the warmth of the carseat, under Mum's doona cover. His big brushy tail high in the air for us all to see.
PS in case you were wondering, I also have 2 equally mad and totally divine pussycats who are my current fur-babies. Maybe they will get a blog next if they behave ;)
J xx
He isn't really my cat anymore though. I only had the privelidge of Toby being in my life for a short 2 years when he was a baby. My Mum is Toby's real Mum (or Meowmie as we call her). She has had him since 2001 when his amazing life took another turn, one that would see him touch many people with his big heart, soul and paws.
I came out of a horrible relationship on New Years Day 1999 after 2 years of living with someone who I loved, but did not love me. I was alone, broke and depressed in Melbourne. As you do, I got a tattoo. But that wasn't enough. I can't remember the details but somewhere in early January, on a whim, I went to The Lort Smith Animal Hospital on a mission to get a new companion.
After looking at heaps of kittens, I went to a cage with this tinsy wincey ball of white fur curled up in the corner. Toby was fast asleep and as I reached in to wake him up for a cuddle my heart melted. At first I though, "Oh no, I can't take him because he is so cute everyone will want him. I should rescue an older cat." But after a few seconds of holding this little fluffball in the palm of my hand, I couldn't let go.
Toby came home with me that day on the tram - the first of many tram trips as I didn't have a car.
Toby was a ratbag to live with. In the middle of the night if I had to get up he would hide in the dark then launch himself onto my ankles all claws and teeth. He would run up and down the stairs of my apartment block, swiping me playfully from one flight up through the bars. When I would go out Mr Tobes wouldn't come inside, he would follow me down the street, running through everyone's front yard. The times when I did lock him in, he sat mournfully at the window of my apartment watching me disapear down the road. He would still be there when I got back.
Mum and I would drive between Sydney and Melbourne for visits all the time. Toby loved curling up under the passenger seat and sleeping with the warm of the motor. He would appear at random loo stops and liked to share Hungry Jacks at the border. He even flew a few times too. I'd never leave him when I went home to Sydney for a visit. He always came with me. Everywhre! When he needed to go to the vet I would jump on a tram at Flemington with him in the cage and go down to Lort Smith for his jabs etc. I was such a poor student that I rarely bought myself tram tickets let alone my cat, but one day the inspector politely advised that Toby would need a 'child or concession' ticket to travel on the tram! He was a great traveller.
Eating my 21st croquenbouche
In 2000 my Mum moved to Germany for 3 months and in September I agreed to go and meet her there. I also got my working visa for the UK and painfully had to say goodbye to Toby. I only intended going to London for a few months so my ex moved back in to housesit. If only it were that simple.
It was a week into my trip and I was in Paris when I finally got through to my ex who hadn't been answering his phone. After a complex situation involving money, he told me he was moving out and that Toby was back at Lort Smith. I had a week to get him out. WHAT THE FUCK?!?!? I AM IN PARIS!!!!! Jump off the phone, call Lort Smith. "Sorry Ms Reason, Toby has already been here a week. You have 2 days to get him out or he will be re-homed." Mad phonecalls placed to all my friends. Thank god one of them who drove picked him up and kept him for a few days until Mum arrived home to Sydney. She then put him on the plane, and Grandma became Meowmie. My Toby was no longer mine.
He loved living with Mum, Kitty and Mitzi (her two cats). Poor Mitzi couldn't stand him (or Kitty, who happened to be her daughter. Maybe because Kitty demanded to be breastfeed until she was 1?) Mum found a new home for Mitz which was for the best. She lived out her days happy without a crazy big white boy chasing her.
Toby was the ringleader of the townhouse complex Mum lived in. There must have been up to 6 or 8 other cats there at any one time. He loved them all and anyone who came to visit. And he KNEW he was gorgeous!! Everyone knows Toby. He parades with his tail held high - his brush as we call it. He rolls around flaunting his big soft tummy begging you to scratch it. He can't walk on fences or branches. He has very little coordination. But that doesn't stop him gingerly climbing out on a limb staring at you - then walking straight into the tree trunk head first!!
He sits next to Mum each morning with his paw on her leg. He sleeps in bed with her all snuggled up. He is her best friend, her life companion.
It took many years for Tobes to forgive me for leaving. Only last year did he finally let me cuddle him and stopped hissing at me. The guilt I felt will never leave me. I was his Mummy and he went through hell.
But Toby is a survivor. I hope.
Today he had surgery. He became ill last week and an ultrasound yesterday confirmed cysts on his kidney and pancreas. He also has a heart murmer.
A cat can leave a place in your heart, but I want him to leave a greater legacy. That is why I am blogging him. He will live here forever. In my heart, under the warmth of the carseat, under Mum's doona cover. His big brushy tail high in the air for us all to see.
PS in case you were wondering, I also have 2 equally mad and totally divine pussycats who are my current fur-babies. Maybe they will get a blog next if they behave ;)
J xx
Monday, August 1, 2011
If the dress fits...
I've been thinking for ages about a new direction. Left, right, straight ahead? Well a bit of each actually...
Since I this blog is a journal of my creative journey I will start with the basics.
I want to create. Design, sew, paint, draw, sing, dance etc. You name it. I want to work with colour and fabric. I want to create beautiful rooms from unique pieces. I want to make the old and dull full of life and colour.
No more sitting around reading interiors magazines and craft blogs. I AM going to do what I want.
Not sure if anyone has noticed but I have had a bit of a dilemma lately. I have felt for a long time that I want to have a go at making clothes, particularly for girls. But the market is swamped. Which kinda makes me think, well who am I really trying to please? You or me? I certainly don't making a living out of any of it so it has to be about making myself happy.
Girls' stuff is a natural progression for me as I have Minky who is now almost 8 months. Most of my friends have toddler girls too so there is an instant market for anything I make. But again, I don't really want to make to sell. And I don't want to be seen as following everyone else. If any moola comes from it then that's a bonus. It will really just fund my fabric addiction. I just want to create for the love of it. Having spent hours trawling e-patterns I have found a few cute ones that I will try, but for me it isn't so much about shmancy patterns but about colour and using awesome fabrics together to create fun clothes.
The other thing I want to do is more interior design focused. I'm about to embark on a custom order including a cushion. Not a huge deal but it's a tiny step in the direction I would like to see myself head. Could you imagine a whole coordinating My Little Lovebird Nursery range? Ooooooeeeeee!!! Yes please!
Anyways, back to dressmaking. I had a little practice run while I was on holidays. This was the outcome. Eek! Embarrassment time. My MIL gave me some old fabric to use. My French seams aren't perfect but I learnt a lot, like how to ruffle and use an overlocker.
So here goes. Please don't laugh!!
Cute pattern my MIL had at her place. For a first attempt EVER at sewing a dress it was bloody hard!!
First ever pillowcase dress! I even made my own bias. Awww clever me!
So that is that. Who knows what will pop up on my page in the coming months. I just have to repeat to myself 'do it because you love it. Do it for yourself'. That is what I really want.
J xxx
Since I this blog is a journal of my creative journey I will start with the basics.
I want to create. Design, sew, paint, draw, sing, dance etc. You name it. I want to work with colour and fabric. I want to create beautiful rooms from unique pieces. I want to make the old and dull full of life and colour.
No more sitting around reading interiors magazines and craft blogs. I AM going to do what I want.
Not sure if anyone has noticed but I have had a bit of a dilemma lately. I have felt for a long time that I want to have a go at making clothes, particularly for girls. But the market is swamped. Which kinda makes me think, well who am I really trying to please? You or me? I certainly don't making a living out of any of it so it has to be about making myself happy.
Girls' stuff is a natural progression for me as I have Minky who is now almost 8 months. Most of my friends have toddler girls too so there is an instant market for anything I make. But again, I don't really want to make to sell. And I don't want to be seen as following everyone else. If any moola comes from it then that's a bonus. It will really just fund my fabric addiction. I just want to create for the love of it. Having spent hours trawling e-patterns I have found a few cute ones that I will try, but for me it isn't so much about shmancy patterns but about colour and using awesome fabrics together to create fun clothes.
The other thing I want to do is more interior design focused. I'm about to embark on a custom order including a cushion. Not a huge deal but it's a tiny step in the direction I would like to see myself head. Could you imagine a whole coordinating My Little Lovebird Nursery range? Ooooooeeeeee!!! Yes please!
Anyways, back to dressmaking. I had a little practice run while I was on holidays. This was the outcome. Eek! Embarrassment time. My MIL gave me some old fabric to use. My French seams aren't perfect but I learnt a lot, like how to ruffle and use an overlocker.
So here goes. Please don't laugh!!
So that is that. Who knows what will pop up on my page in the coming months. I just have to repeat to myself 'do it because you love it. Do it for yourself'. That is what I really want.
J xxx
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)