birthdays are nice...

especially when they fall on mother's day. Ok, so it was nearly a week ago, but I feel that it's worth a mention, remembering of course that it's not only my birthday we're talking about here. Sharing your birthday with your husband is kind of cute, kind of quirky, kind of romantic and sweet, but the thing is, you need to remember that for the rest of your life you will share your birthday with someone else. Someone else who just happens to live with you, so there's no ignoring it. It will never be all about you. That's something you really want to be sure you're ok with when you get married. Lucky for me, I have a husband who believes in magic, and he does go out of his way to make me feel special, more than I deserve at times, I must admit. He spoiled me with new music and the funnest book I've seen in years. The chocolates weren't actually from him, but I found it quite pertinent to tell the world that I have a box of 48 ferrero rochers in my posession. I'm doing my best to share them. on a completely unrelated topic, a couple of items made their way into the shop today. A couple of things I found in the shed when I cleaned up recently.
Mental note: when you go to all the trouble of making an item, list it in your shop. It will be much easier for someone to buy it that way. Do not place it in a corner of your shed and pile fabric on top of it, for it is quite possible that you will forget that you ever made it, and thus it may never again see the light of day.

life goes on (obviously)

so, I'm ok. I just got a comment from someone anonymous on that last post linking to a pets' memorial site, which admittedly brought a tear to my eye, but also made me think, "oh crap, I'd better write something on this blog so people don't think I'm still a blithering mess".

The days and weeks have moved on, and so have we. And the thing is, there's still sally mally pseudo-dog to keep us company. And the chooks. Now that little combination in itself provides endless entertainment. The chooks have realised that it is possible to instill fear by running straight at sally very fast, forcing her to run for cover while they scavenge what's left in her food bowl and drink water from her bucket. She meanwhile lays in waiting, recovering her shaken wits and as soon they have their backs to her, lunges at them with the intent of removing some tail feathers, only to have them turn around at the last minute and send her running again. Scary crazy fun.

Something that I hadn't really given much thought to previously was that sally was very much dominated by scully, only natural I guess. She went off her food for several days when he died, and I was thinking she was pining for him, but then I realised that she just took that long to realise that she could actually eat it all herself. He was a bit of a stand over man when it came to dinner. Now she's enjoying a generous helping, even saving a little bit for later safe in the knowledge it will still be there (unless the chooks are around). Generally she's becoming more dog-like, stepping up to the job of loyal companion and protector. I'm thinking maybe scully had a quiet word in her ear before he went. She's found her woof, and is using it freely to warn us of intruding lorikeets and magpies, and has also taken to sleeping under the house, which does wonders for her thick white fur. Very dog-like indeed.

The thing is, I'm so glad that we got sally when we did. I was worried at first that it was the wrong thing to do. Scully was getting old, and I thought she might just be an annoyance for him in his retirement, but he actually seemed happier when she was around. And the pain of losing him was so much easier to deal with after everyone realised that she was still here and she needed us too. It helped especially with the kids, teaching them that it's ok to be sad, but life does indeed go on. Needless to say, she's revelling in all this extra attention.

I will be back soon with less doggy tales and more crafty ones.

farewell to the best dog in the world

we lost our oldest and dearest friend, scully, last friday. It's taken me this long to be able to even think about writing about it here, and even now the tears stream down my face as I sit here looking at these pictures and thinking of him. To tell the truth, I'm heartbroken.

scully came into my life in my twenty second year, around the same time that arran did. He came everywhere with us and usually managed to find some mischief of one kind or another along the way. His favourite kind of mischief was the kind that involved rolling around in whatever dead animal he could find, coming home with such a look of satisfaction on his sweet little face that I could hardly get angry with him. It was just what he did, worth the punishment of having to sleep outside rather than on the end of my bed.

Arran and I were having a long distance relationship in those days, me on the south coast, and him up here on the central coast, with about 4 hours travel between us. He'd visit on weekends, and the three of us would pile into his datsun 120Y and go on adventures, scully in the back with his head out the window all the way. He could smell a cow a mile off and would bark and yelp hysterically until we were well past them. I still don't know what he would have actually done if faced with a cow, but he seemed fairly confident from the safety of the car.

Arran would leave in the wee hours of monday morning, to head straight to work in sydney (an apprentice in those days, oh my, such a long time ago). Scully would chase him all the way out of town, and then run back home to me and sleep for the next four hours until it was time for me to go to work. Such dedication.

14 years. So many stories, so many pictures. I am so grateful to have had this dog in my life, and I miss him so much that it hurts. We all miss him, he was here to welcome all our boys into the world. He treated them with such patience and gentleness and taught them how to be kind and gentle in return.

Thankyou scully, for sharing your long life with us, it's been fun. We'll never forget you.

oh hello autumn, you're here at last!

it's so nice when you're around.

scenes from a fortnight

as usual, I must apologise for my extended absence. We've been busy, spending lots of time in the garden, making new friends.

enjoying yummies from jasmine greens. Gabby's grapes are the best.

wallpapering! Yes, my first attempt at wallpapering. We have this funny little "wall" which we built in our living room, which houses cd's on the other side and kind of creates a little corner for the telly, and it just needed "something" on the plain side. The other day it just came to me (I have my moments) that wallpaper would be just the thing. I bought this very nice piece from the lovley grevillea vintage (picked up a sweet piece of fabric while I was there too!). I knew nothing about wallpapering, but google's good for that. Let me just say, if this wall had been any bigger than 1m x 1m, we would not be talking about this right now. All's well that ends well, though, and I'm very happy with my new little flowery wall.

rippling. Ok, so it's still a little hot for crochet, but it is autumn, right? Loving this project.

and making lovelies for my new shop! I'm having lots of fun with these sweet little dresses, and aren't self-cover buttons just the funnest thing? If I had a little girl, this is just the sort of thing she would be wearing. (sigh).

super boy

this boy turned seven last week. This boy who never ceases to entertain us with his random comments and funny antics. This boy who still loves to wear the clothes his mamma makes for him and who loves nothing better than to snuggle.
This boy "needed" nothing for his birthday, because he already has everything he needs right there in his sweet little head. I bought him a watch, because you know, he's a big boy now. He chooses to leave that watch on my bedside table so that I can use it. He was slightly more impressed with the keyboard grips I also bought him for his scooter (the only way to travel). Last night he declared that life is much better with keyboard grips.
At about 9pm on the eve of his birthday, it finally occurred to me that what he could really use was a new cape, so I made him one. He likes it. It seems to fly better than his old one. I had to pass judgement that the other morning as he flew past me on the little step into our back room. "Did it fly right up that time, mum?". "Um, yes".
Ah willow, don't change, stay just the way you are. Life is much better with you around.

opportunistic

well, it wouldn't have been much of a holiday without a bit of op shopping somewhere along the line. I managed one trip to the nearest place of thriftiness, ie. in the next town, only to find that my most beloved of all op shops, the one where I have in the past found some of my most treasured treasures, the oppiest of all op shops, was indeed devoid of all goodness. It was full of crap. Now, I'm just going to let that slide. In my mind, it was just having a bad day, and when next I return, it will once again be brimming with good stuff just waiting to be picked up by the likes of me. So across the road I hopped, to the other, lesser op shop, the one that never really has much at all, and managed to at least score a couple of scraps of fabric, in pink and red, which as it happens are in rather short supply in my shed, so that was a good outcome I guess.so off we went home then, feeling just a little dejected (can you imagine the disappointment of the children at having no vintage treasures to share the back seat with them?), and we're driving back through the streets of my little home town, when all of a sudden I spy a roadside chuck out (er, council pick up). I can spot one of those a mile off. Actually, my husband is even better than me, but he was busy negotiating a winding road with oncoming traffic at the time.
Now this chuck out consisted mainly of furniture, and if I'd have been lucky enough to have had a trailer attached to the back of the car, then some very appealing orange vinyl chairs would certainly have made the journey home with us. But, as I was limited to small items that could be squeezed in amongst children and scooters and suitcases, this rosy tin was the only thing that I managed to salvage. and, I can honestly say that I would have been happy with that, because that really is the rosiest of tins. And, to top it off, it's a "willow" tin too, which are our favourite type of tins. But the story doesn't end there. As I'm perusing this chuck out, making sure I haven't missed anything, I happen to notice the occupant of the (very gorgeous original 50"s green fibro) house looking at me through the window, and then I'm thinking "oh, great, she's going to tell me this isn't a chuck out after all and I have to put back that sweet little rosy tin", when instead, she says "um, there's more stuff inside, if you're interested". Like I wouldn't be? Who the heck wouldn't be interested in the contents of a very gorgeous little fibro shack that looks like it hasn't been changed in last 60 years?so, off I trot down the front path, and through the loveliest of front doors, with the highest of hopes, only to find that the place had already been ransacked by other opportunists who obviously had some prior knowledge of the loot that lay waiting that day, and all I managed to find were a few plates and a little kettle for the cubby.
but then, as I'm leaving, I almost trip over a big pile of linen in the middle of loungeroom. Yes, my friends, linen. And there, in that pile of linen, I spied the tiniest peek of chenille. "Um", I uttered, in a tiny little voice, "are you getting rid of that too?", for surely no-one in their right mind gets rid of chenille. "Yes", they said, "everything".
So that, dear friends, is how I came to be the proud owner of a pair of matching totally groovy chenille bedspreads that day. Oh, and a pretty rad little cushion too. And if I were a braver mamma, and perhaps one with the type of children who regularly grace the pages of my favourite magazines, the type of children who can be trusted with such things as white chenille bedpsreads, then those bedspreads would surely be covering my childrens' beds and making them look totally cool right now. But, they are not. The type of children I have are a two year old with a texta fetish, an almost seven year old who can't help but make a mess wherever he goes, and a 9.5 year old who is frequently covered in weepy scabs, so I'm afraid white chenille is out of the question right now. For now, they will be stashed in my linen cupboard, along with my original pink ballerina version I had when I was three, waiting for the day when they can come out of hiding again.