A therapeutic cushion!

The short version of this blog post goes like this. Had a crap week, made an awesome cushion that made all the planets align and now I feel awesome {insert picture of totally blissed out Byron Bay earth mother cradling baby here}.

The long version goes like this......

I have had complete and utter life-fail this week. Like, COMPLETE meltdown stuff.

Everything I did sucked. From dropping everything I touched, insomnia, burning food, not having enough milk (and not the normal cow kind either if you get my drift...) panic attack central, somehow tangling the threads on my overlocker (?!?!?!), my blog went into free-fall when I deleted some html, general arguments over stupid things with Hubby and a new found phobia of snakes (well, the old lady over the road did have one in her letterbox so that one is kinda legit). My week has sucked. Big time. And to top it off? Hubby went to a titty bar this afternoon. Noice. Just what these saggy, lifeless boobies need. Some perky 18 year old competition. Even my daughter doesn't want them. Don't even get me started on that (I will most definately cry).

And did I mention that Hubby is a Kiwi and the frikin Rugby World Cup started tonight? Yes, woe is me.

There are other, bigger things that happened too which I won't go into here. But let's just say they are pretty pivotal and life changing. Enough to make me a hormonal nervous wreck. And before you ask, NO I am not pregnant. Ew, definately not. Ew. EW! Like wouldn't I like, have to, you know, do.....that...thing? Nope, definately not pregnant.

So while I was trying to scrape my blog back together (you like? It's all shiny and kinda new!) I found all these other reeeeeaaaalllly cool blogs that are doing exactly what I want to do if I ever get time ever, ever, ever again. Instead of being all cool and composed about it, the green-eyed monster came out and I have been super depressed ever since.

I haven't had the urge, want or need to sew all week. For the first time since MLL started I have no orders for bunting. Instead of being upset about the downturn in business I am breathing a sigh of relief. I can have creative headspace and do what I want for a little while. Which this week involved sleeping at odd hours and teaching myself html coding.

Then this afternoon I decided to finish a cushion I had started a week ago for my Spring range. There were bits here, bits there. I accidentally cut the wrong size peice of fabric 3 times. Yep, fail continues. I was trying to 'meet the market'. What would someone want to buy? Were there too many fabrics on the one cushion? Someone suggested doilies, which I had actually been toying with. Definately. Yep, doilies. But no, that didn't work either. After cutting the wrong size for the 4th time I looked at my ironing board, now totally covered in bits of odd shaped pink fabric. What on earth was the universe trying to tell me? Then I listened to my creative heart. I wanted to make a birdy cushion. I wanted to put ric-rac on it, make it zhooshy and girly. I wanted doilies, frills, roses, birds, shabby sewing, applique and it all had to be on the one cushion.

So I started to stitch. And I realised then that when I let myself go, when I made what I really, honestly wanted to make then I was happy. I played for ages with techniques that I had been meaning to try but didn't have time. Using thick upholstery thread, shabby style applique. I let my imagination run wild and when I realised how happy I was at that exact moment I knew that the cushion I was making I could never sell. At what price is happiness? No, this cushion was for my Minky. To say sorry for being a horrible, miserable Mummy this week. With each snagged thread or wonky seam I didn't care about un-picking it to make it sellable. After all it was for my baby girl, to say 'I love you', and a reminder to myself to be honest to my craft. Because that is what will make me happy in the end. So here it is.

Better go, Sonny Bill just had his shirt ripped off on the field. Poor Sonny......

J xx

Why I am not doing any work today.

The first day of spring is bringing loads of new beginings to MLL headquarters (ie my house). There is a reason why nothing productive is being done today.

Since buying The Cottage 2 years ago we have slowly been renovating it. Thanks to some cheap imported labour (Kiwi in-laws) the inside is nearly done but the outside looks like it should be hiding criminals, or a meth-lab. All that is missing is the cars on bricks. Not the stylish beach-chic Home Beautiful I had in mind...

Well, today marks a huge milestone with our new driveway being poured! I have an odd fetish of, ahem, watching conrete being poured. The way it oozes and slodges about. Mmmmmmmmmm...........

Toay I am in heaven.

Thankfully Hubby let the professionals at it this time as it's a mammoth job. We have moved it from one side of the house to the other and are putting up a nice sail eventually.

Here are a few progress shots!

The pour is going on as I type. Finally, after 2 long years the front of my house will look like a house! There will be a snazzy new fence thanks to hubby in a few weeks and then, THEN I get to do my garden!

J xxx

Life as I know it. And a bit of sewing.

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

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

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

Family Vintage

When I was over in NZ a few weeks back, my mother-in-law pulled out an old brown paper bag, the type you used to get groceries in. I was puzzled as to what old goodies she had kept for all these years. She had already pulled out heaps of my husband’s blocks from when he was a baby, and his sister's old rocking doll. This is a house full of immaculately kept vintage treasures.

So you can imagine I nearly fell off my chair when she started to pull out about half a dozen dresses she had made for her daughter in the 1970s. The fabrics alone sent me into heart palpitations and left me absolutely itching to get back to the sewing machine and bolt to the nearest antique linen shop (more on that later!).

Back in those days, my father-in-law worked 3 jobs and ran his own business to pay the mortgage and my MIL stayed at home raising the babies. There wasn't any left over income for new clothes and they live in a fairly remote place with only a local corner shop. Where as these days it is seen as kind of trendy and kitsch for a middle-class WAHM to pick up a needle and thread, back then it was a means of saving money and be thrifty.

With my passion for sewing I was totally awestruck at the beautiful work she had done and each one was still in amazing condition. Worn a bit on the edges from days spent playing in the yard or down by the river, but still beautiful and a testament to her skill.

So here are a few photos I took. None of which do justice to the fabrics in cotton and cord. I am now endeavouring to sew my own dresses. I did complete two while I was there, but more on that later.

Enjoy xx

Leavin' on a jet plane

Sometimes so much happens, yet nothing really happens either. I've been sick for a week with gastro (yay for loosing 3kg, not so yay for horrible stomach cramps).

I spent the whole time on the couch thinking about what I should be doing, sewing etc. and came to the shocking realisation that I am kinda over making bunting! Oh my!! What the? I love it don't I?? Well sort of. I can totally understand where some crafters don't do custom orders. It is great to expand into colours and play with fabrics that I wouldn't normally use, but then again, I like to be the master of my own creativity. Hmmm.... was left pondering.

So I am off for a much deserved holiday to visit the outlaws in NZ for a few weeks. They live in the most serenely beautiful place in the Nth Island you could ever imagine. I love NZ because of it's fresh green purity. The rolling paddocks that meet the black sand, the beautiful mountains with their snowy hats on. It is truly a place to recharge (and freeze one's norks off at this time of year). They have a beautiful big garden where I can take Minky to pick fresh fruit and veg, hubby can go out fishing every day and Minks can spend lots of time rolling about with her Poppa or patting the sheep and cows that graze in the paddock behind the house.

What am I going to get out of it? Well there are loads of designers and galleries that I have always promised myself I will visit. So this time I AM going to. Even if I have to drive the half hour into town to do it! I am also going to visit some antique shops and see what vintage Kiwi bits I can pick up for possibly a new bunting range. Or something. Oh I don't know! I just feel so energised thinking about it! Kiwi designers have this amazing ability to draw on their surrounds for inspiration more-so than Aussies. There seems to be a significant influence everywhere from Maori art, and also the colours of the sea, native plants and black rocks and sand. It is so unique and can be picked from a line up. Can't wait to get stuck into it!

I guess the point to my rambling is this. I was watching Upstairs Downstairs Abbey last night and realised what I have long known. I was born in the wrong century. I could have quite happily spent hours in the sitting room doing cross-stitch, drinking out of fine china or riding side-saddle through the rolling hills (in my fantasy I was born into money mind you). I would collect roses from the garden, be married off to a lord someone and probably die during child birth of my 9lb daughter after 23hrs in labour...

BUT!! Besids all of that, I would have loved the purity of life. Which brings me to NZ. While everything is always that bit rosier on holidays there is a certain 'way of life' the Kiwi's have maintained that we seem to have lost, or strive for here. Hubby didn't know what 'organic' meant when he arrived here ten years ago, because all he ever knew was fresh from the garden. Both Minky's Nanna and Great Grandma both knit and sew (and have never owned an overlocker!) so I am looking forward to getting some tips from the masters. Days will be spent going for walks across the swing bridge to the beach and coming home for a hearty winter dinner in front of the fireplace.

If you don't already know where this place is, i'm not telling!!

See you in a few weeks if I ever decide to come home!!