(lengthen) or shorten here

Black Mimosa is shaping up to be a satisfying finished garment, soon.

I'm almost at the end of a marathon of finishing.
Or is that more of a long jump?

Well it's certainly not a discus throw, I know that much.
But it's a pleasant phase of marathon finishing; I've cleared the slate clean of not only work, but work detritus and so now I have a nice clear desk to really spread out without colliding with bits of work-related crap barging into my mental space as well as physical space.
And I'm learning some new skills along the way and it's it's not going disastrously wrong.
Unlike the gigantor hat I knitted up over the long weekend, but that's another story.

I'm also itching to get started on a few sewn garments and ploughing through my stash of black cotton jersey, voile and denim. Some simple silhouette shapes with a
soup├žon of detailing.

Black Mimosa is actually black with a pale umber trim and not navy with a mid blue one like it appears in the photos...tungsten lighting does make everything appear very cool.


New! With extra added fibre!

First of all thank you to all you readers who shared in my Careless Whisper pain.

Those of you who expressed concern for my welfare can now rest assured that it
has abated, and those of you who swore to hunt me down if and poke sharp things in my eyes if after reading my post you were similarly infected with the GM* virus, know that my number is unlisted and I intend to move to Guatemala just as soon as I've pressed Publish.

Now..on to the next thrilling housework installment. No, no music this time, just dust bunnies.

Lots of dust bunnies.

Seriously, the dust bunny situation around here is getting out of control.

I'm thinking that combined with the amount of yarn ends and model making materials lying around the crevices, this spanking-new injection of bumper material courtes
y of Harper's constantly-shedding undercoat, I could start my own Universe via the matter accretion theory (brought to my attention by Bill Bryson in his A Short History of Nearly Everything) which is pretty much the opposite of the Big Bang Theory.
If I just stop cleaning them up, pretty soon (and by pretty soon I mean in a few billion years) I might just have my own system of planets right here in my very own house!

Yesterday afternoon we went for a walk along the river in the rain and afterwards, Harper chose to wipe herself dry on the walls and cupboards so now we have a shaggy red dado line as a delightful addition to our decor.

Oh Harper, it's a good thing you're so cute.

Country girl's first visit to the beach

I'm managing to squeeze in some knitting, in between fur collection of course.

Not Quite Straight Scarf by Nicole Hindes. A very simple and clever pattern and it seemed an immediate match for my Filatura di Crosa Millefili Fine cotton.

clicken to em-biggen

The pewter-like sheen of the yarn certainly does lend itself to the corrugations of stocking stitch and reverse stocking stitch and I'm also liking the chain mail feel of it; just the thing for my new Joan of Arc look. I can team it with this

Very early suit of women's armour.
Detail of a scan of a (very poor) photocopy from my archives.

But the truth of it is I'm just getting bored with it.
I feel I have fallen into a sort of knitting ennui.
Maybe I've just got me a hankerin' for some chunky, plump, colourful merino on my needles.
Something heavy.
With cables.
In the middle of a Sydney January.
That'll do it.

* That's George Michael, not genetically modified.



I was awake at 6.30 am and taking advantage of the relative coolness of the air at that hour by pootling about the place getting all. most of. some of the more crucial of my housework done before the entire house was transformed into a terrarium (man, I can not get out of this house soon enough I tell you). And I found myself sweeping the floor, with -what Goat refers to as the jukebox of my mind- playing a little soundtrack. This in itself is no surprise readers, but what really alarmed me was that the track playing was George Michael's Careless Whispers*

Now, when the hell did I become a middle-aged housewife? Just when exactly did that happen? I ask you. I tried to reassure myself with "Oh, it's not that bad is it"? To which I answered myself with "Are you crazy? Of course it's that bad"!

Whispers, people!

And as if that wasn't bad enough in itself, but how on e
arth do I actually know enough of Careless Whispers to have it playing in my head in the first place?! It boggles and disturbs the mind.

So I'm trying to work, as much as one can in a sweatlodge, doing a lot of gazing at my office wall, and I
am knitting, really I am! Look at me knit!

I have nothing against George Michael per se, indeed he seems like a perfectly lovely, intelligent and charming man (as much as I can glean as a chat show guest anyway and leaving aside all public toilet innuendo for now), but let it be said I am no fan of his vocal histrionics and leave it at that eh?
* The video is hilarious and for the intrepid few who can actually make it through to the end without laughing hysterically or breaking out in a saxophone allergy rash, there is some choice 80s sleeve action on the Lady Di lookalike.


Blurred memories ; sharp dreams

I don't know about you, but the beginning of a new year makes me a bit internal.

And so to start 2008, howzabout an internalist collage : an unconscious assemblage of imagery that signposts dream and memory.

Please check out the credit list here to see all the beautiful photos in their original contexts.