Guess who is a clever little clogs?
Moi.
Was there ever any doubt?
Well, obviously there was some doubt, otherwise I wouldn't have gotten quite so excited! Wickedly Chic has featured one of my creations in it's Daily Ditties section. Hooray! I made something fashionable!
OK, so it hasn't translated into move Etsy lovin', or any sales, but I don't care. I'm just kind of pleased that some random person out there likes what I can do.
swishswooshswooshswooshswishswoooooooshswoooooosh
Nup. It doesn't get any sweeter than this.
*blissful sigh*
When we first moved out this way, I used to love driving through the backstreets to get to the ritzier suburbs, because we had to go past the mosque.
When you think of a mosque, it often comes with visions of a large ornate building, with glorious metals and rich luxurious materials with bends and curves like a winding stream, filled to the brim with traditionally dressed individuals.
Our mosque was not like that.
Our local mosque was essentially a large, relatively non-descript white box with small decorative battlements along the edges of the rooftop. With party lights. Around the entire roofline there was a string of multi-coloured globes that would be switched on come the evening when the local community would park out the neighbouring streets to worship together. It was always fascinating to drive past. A seemingly empty white box suddenly transformed into a community hub.
When the soundproof fences went up with the new road construction, and the party lights came down, I thought that was the end. We didn't drive down their street anymore because the new developments has all but blocked it off. I figured they'd probably done as many of the local religious groups had done and moved into a large warehouse building, which would have been sad indeed.
And then they appeared. Two shiny golden pointed domes peeking out over the concrete barriers. At first I thought they were temporary decorations, as they were a rather garish yellow gold colour and had a decidedly plastic look about them, but they were there for one week, and then another. Soon it became apparent that they were here to stay. I wondered why they'd chosen such a funny shade of gold for a permanent addition.
And then one night as I was driving along the new road, they turned on the lights. These two golden adornments glowed like a Japanese paper lantern and looked as rich and sumptuous as the finest fabrics. The transformation was incredible, and so fitting for a building with a lean towards the nocturnal.
I pointed the domes out to Mum as we drove past, not long after they'd been installed. "Hmm", she said matter-of-factly, "they look like big golden nipples." Poof. All my romantic notions of the building just vanished, and all I could see were two giant golden nipples staring out at me. Forget opulence and a sense of community, it was now just naughtiness on an industrial scale! I tried explaining about the people and the beauty of the simple white box, but no luck. "I'm sorry, but they still look like golden nipples to me!"
Mum is not one to beat around the bush. Forget calling a spade a spade, she'd rather cut to the chase and smack you on the head with it.
I was very glad when more domes began appearing. At first it was just one large one, which lead to the obvious comments, but then two more smaller ones appeared to finish it off. And it looked pretty special. I wondered for a while if they really were just gold plastic, and if they had any idea when they purchased them how spectacular they would look when illuminated from within at night. I wondered for a while if the new adornments had changed the atmosphere over there of an evening, and if it still had that same community buzz...
...and then I saw that they had put the party lights back up again. :)
I walked into the newsagent and made a beeline for the racks of comforting DIY magazines. I picked one up and flipped through the pages slowly, delaying the torture which was to follow. With a hard swallow and all the courage I could muster on half a slice of toast and a cold cup of tea, I put down my friendly magazine and walked purposefully into the card aisle. Hundreds of mass-produced, glossy printed, gold embossed paper harlots started out at me from their neat little melamine racks, and I knew then and there that this was not a place I wished to frequent.
And so I came home and made my own.
It isn't that I don't like bought cards, I actually find them quite interesting. Art, humour, touching prose, and all on a piece of 5 x 8 cardstock. That takes some serious talent but, for the most part anyway, it takes very little thought on the part of the buyer. These days, your garden variety Hallmark card is a borderline anti-thought, and an expensive one at that!
There is glitter and punch-outs from here to next week, and I think I may have embossed a small smudge on the table but I can rest easy knowing that, for the next little while at least, I won't have to buy another boring old greeting card.
Isn't he just devine?
swoooooshswoooooshswoooooshswooooosh
I was happy to do the work myself, but my mother wouldn't have it. She said that I needed to take some pressure off, to relax and think about more important things.
swishswooshswooshswooshswiiiishswooshswooshswoosh
Oh sure, he isn't perfect. He leaves almost as much mess around the place as the dog, but when I think about the alternative, I'm so glad that we have him. And for the price, well, you can't expect perfection. He makes the effort, and that is what matters.
ffssssshhhhhhh-clunk-ffsssshhhhhhhh-clunk
He's only been here a few days and already it seems like he's just part of the furniture. He just slotted right in, it was like it was meant to be.
beeeep
Having clean dishes has never been so blissfully simple!
I can't recall who gave me the book. It had been sitting around the house for years just gathering dust and this was the perfect opportunity to put it to use. It is purple, with dark purple stripes, dark ruled pages and black spiral binding. That information is, for the purposes of explaining the book, quite irrelevant (although if at any stage I come in here squawking "have you seen my book?" then it could be rather handy to know).
The important thing to know about this book is what is written on its pages.
It is full of lists.
Lets be honest, life as a housewife has its drawbacks. No kids, days without work, you'd think it'd be a walk in the park. You'd think I have free time coming out of my ears, that I'd never forget a birthday, or have to buy take away food, or generally be forced to run around like a hairy goat . You'd think it, but you'd be dead wrong.
I'm tired of the way things are. I'm tired of being constantly busy and never really accomplishing anything. I'm tired of not having a decent reply when anyone asks what I did with my day, of not taking any relaxing relaxation time for myself, of being unreliable and disorganised, and feeling that I have to do anything and everything for people simply because I'm "not doing anything".
I'm tired, but for the most part it is merely the everyday sort of tired.
OK, so I'm exhausted and bone-weary and I can't think in a straight line because have a brain full of static, but that is fine. They were the cards that were dealt and I'll cop that because, for the time being at least, I can't really change it. This new tired, this I can change.
I've done this before. I've said that today is the day that things change, and they do... for that day. This time, I've decided that I'm just going to do what I know. I'm going to plod. I'm going to keep plodding even if I don't want to, because that is how plodding works. Every time I have tried to change things, I've fizzled. The new habits haven't stuck, or the tools were too expensive, or I simply couldn't envisage how it was all going to fit together. This time, I am working with what I've got. Me.
I make lists.
I've made lists for as long as I can remember. I love having a concrete idea of what needs doing, and breaking down huge daunting tasks into little bite-sized chunks. I love the way that the simple act of striking out an item can bring a sense of joy to the most dreary of tasks. I even like the lack of possibilities surrounding a freshly written list.
Everyone says that you should do what you love. Well, maybe that was it, maybe I was lacking the love. Lists I know. I can do lists. They are one of the few times in life that I appreciate a black and white mentality. You either do the task and cross it off, or you don't. Simple. I could do with a bit of simplicity.
I've had enough of who I am.
I can't get back who I was.
I need to sort out who I want to be and how I'm going to get there.
Maybe making lists will help, or maybe not. At the very least it will help me put a line through some guilt, and that can only be a good thing.
