Let me count the ways

One of them is he is a bloody good sport.

I give him an internet name like The Old Flame and he creates a blog from it; I want to go to a knitting book signing, he comes along and counts the number of times the author uses the words "tea cosy", is rhythm accompanist for the rap and has his picture taken (fantastic arvo, Loani, btw); I find out about a blog called Dudes With Beards Eating Cupcakes, he lets me exploit his birthday for it.

It was his birthday yesterday - happy birthday my love.

Bale up!

I’ve said it often enough, so you’d think I’d believe it by now - boodle has its own level. It is a living (and probably sentient) thing that resents being reduced, except by the natural attrition of finished objects.

I’ve spent the better part of the last couple of weeks weeding the stash. Odd balls, colour collections of odd balls, garment amounts in weights/colours I won’t use, novelty and other fun yarns, feltable yarns, and wool that, while the shine has not quite gone off it, has resisted attempts to be transformed into the wonderful item I envisaged for it – all have found good and welcoming homes. This was a considerable undertaking and the yarn went out in ripples and small waves.

Also, we are going away next week with an overseas visitor, also a fibre fiend. We are taking her to a couple of woollen mills and some independent fibre and yarn pushers. I was prepared to be extremely strong (particularly in the face of the stash enhancement aversion therapy just undergone) and had worded TOF up on the need for him to not enable me.

Is it fair, then, that a little problem of tenses in the English language landed me with an incoming tsunami?

A couple of weeks ago, a colleague of TOF’s emailed him:

“I am having the black sheep shorn this weekend, would you like the wool for your girlfriend?”

Oooh, a black fleece, we thought, that would be lovely and immediately accepted the kind offer. I popped out and bought a 150 litre plastic bin to store it in.  I joked with TOF that it should come in 3 bags full.  Not so funny now!

This morning it became apparent that English is an imprecise and, frankly, bloody dangerous language. Here’s the last of a series of email between my benefactor and TOF.

“You seem to be somewhat a tad vague on the amount of wool.........You know those wool bails, well, it is one of them filled with 11 sheeps wool plus a separate yellow pellet bag, which contains the white rams wool. The wool bail is not compressed so it able to be squeezed, but still, it is quite heavy and quite large.”

Tonight, instead of going to a movie as planned (in a real cinema with snuggle seats, as opposed to the lecture theatre we usually see films in), we wrangled a bale and a bit of raw, smelly, glorious fleece.

Still here, just running and running and running.

TOF and I had a long weekend down the coast op-shopping  in February and since then, it's been food preserving non-stop.  For the first installment in our adventures in scrumping, pop over to TOF's blog.

Bewdy bottler

1. I am a stockpiler (I do not hoard - there is a difference). If oft-used commodities are going cheap, I stockpile and use. Doesn't matter if it's undies, wool or food - I stockpile and use.

2. I hate waste.

3. Freezer space in the Taph and TOF households is always at a premium (see 1, above, although Mum, TOF and Jnr have almost finished the reduced by 70% lasagne from my bulk buy in November)

4. I like stewed fruit - it is my cereal topping of choice and forms the basis of my favourite dessert Fruit Crumble (flavour depends on fruit to hand)

5. I particularly like stone fruit.

6. I like being self-sufficient.

7. I am concerned about the environmental effects of transporting fruit all over the country to be canned, then transporting it to warehouses, then transporting it to supermarkets.

8. I am more concerned when the fruit comes from overseas to start with.

9. I bought 3 packing cases full of Fowlers' jars for $20 at the tip shop over the Christmas break.

10. I spent our Christmas money on an electric bottling kit (and paid retail!)

11. We spent last weekend bottling the two cases of peaches my SIL got me from Araluen during the week.

I estimate that's about 2 months worth of fruit and we're keen to do more. TOF is already thinking about a fruit chasing holiday for January 2012 (we're booked until then!) taking the bottling equipment and the fruit dehydrators with us.

Anyone have fruit going spare or know of some? Anyone got old Fowlers' jars they'd like to part with?

Keeping Mum (happy)

And this pair of baby socks is the fourth pair of sockees completed in the last couple of weeks. Mum's hairdresser's daughter had a little girl recently.  Mum commissioned these for little Chiara.  It's Patonyle left over from socks I made Mum.

TOF's Mum commissioned 3 pairs of baby socks for her expected great grandson (see last post), which I was happy to supply out of left overs, including these ones from a Moda Vera sock yarn (Mum got the big version for Christmas).  Sorry forgot to photograph the others.

There's another pair on the needles and then the commissions are fulfilled.  Next up, baby jackets in self-striping sock yarn.

The Shiner

TOF's niece is having a baby in April so of course knitting is in order.  After checking with the grandmother-to-be, I opted for a blankie, any number of socks and some little jackets.

Spotlight had 8ply Sports Support yarn for $1.99 a ball during the after Christmas sale.  A 50/50 wool/acrylic blend, it's quite nice on the hand but I suspect may pill a bit.  This gorgeous royal purple is in the "Plum" colourway.  A very scientific poll of knittes and their fellas last week decided that the colour should be "Shiner".

The pattern is adapted from a freebie on the BBC website.  It's a diagonal garter stitch square knitted from 4 x 50 gram balls of 8ply yarn.  Improvised the ruffle edge from the remaining 2 x 50g balls as I wasn't fussed on the lace edging (little fingers, eyelets, not a good combo),

Using a 150cm circular needle, I knitted up stitches all around the edge (from between the edge bumps) and joined in the round.  The frill took almost every bit of the two balls.

First Round:  K1, Kf&b, repeat all around
Second Round: Purl
Third Round: Knit
Fourth Round: Purl
Fifth Round: K1, Kf&b, repeat all around
Sixth Round: Purl
Change to 4.5mm needle
Seventh Round: Knit
Eighth Round: Purl
Continue alternating knit and purl rounds until sick to death of doing 600+ stitch rounds, or the ruffle is deep enough, or in this case, until the wool ran out. (about 10 rounds)
Cast off in knit, or if enough wool, a picot cast off would be nice.

Finished dimensions 22" along each side.

I love this blankie and will knit it again and when I do it will be a little larger and the frill a little deeper.

Big read

One of the activities I let go when I took on more responsibility for Mum’s care was book group. More than that, I stopped reading altogether, having little brain power left at the end of the day. Every effort is being made to get to at least a couple of the meetings this year and even to read off list books.

Our book for discussion on 2 February is last year’s Booker Prize winner, Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel. I was excited as the prospect of reading it as I’d enjoyed this author before and I once was a Booker junkie, reading as many of the short list as I could before the big announcement. I was excited until I saw the size of the book – 651 pages. Seriously? 651 pages? You really need 651 pages?

Mantel’s hero is Thomas Cromwell, who is often portrayed as Henry VIII’s Machiavellian henchman responsible for the reforms that led to the formation of the Church of England. Here he is a self-made man of intellect, ability and passion. Entirely human and entirely sympathetic.

I’m still not quite over resenting the 651 non-skimmable pages, but I am yet to see where the editing could be done to make it shorter. The prose is dense and intense but it is not wasteful. Some passages need to be re-read to gain a complete understanding, and the family tree and cast of characters at the front of the book is necessary, even if you have an average or better acquaintance with Tudor history.

There are still a 250 pages left to be read and I’m thoroughly enjoying the journey. This is slow reading at its best. Knitting to accompany such a demanding (but completely enjoyable) read is necessarily simple. Adult and baby socks have been knitted to it and just now a garter stitch baby blanket. Complicated knitting and this book do not mix.

Normally I would recommend borrowing a copy from your public library but this time, Canberrans, if you can buy or borrow a privately owned copy do so. The ACT Public Library has 32 copies and as of this morning 143 requests on them. This means the loan period is reduced to two weeks and trying to get through this in two weeks is impossible unless you have those two weeks to lie in the shade and read.  Although it does wonders for the concentration to have such a deadline.

Early Spinning and Knitting on the Monaro

Archibald Crawford was born in 1833, in Campbelltown, Scotland and was 10 years old or so when his family settled for a year on The Dry Plain on the Monaro in about 1844. He was in charge of a flock of 800 lambing ewes. 

He writes in his memoir Eighty-Five Years in Australia (Sydney: John Sands Ltd; 1925), pp 22-23.

My mother, of whom I was very fond, used to spin all the wool for our knitted garments, of which we wore a good many. She never spoke English in the home, although she had an average knowledge of it, but always Gaelic. When she was knitting, sewing or spinning, she would sing old Gaelic songs to us; she had a very sweet and pleasing voice. One of my brothers-in-law, named Brayshaw, made the first spinning wheel which she used in this country; later on, when we went to Victoria, she got an imported one, which is still in existence as far as I know, and would probably be used during the Great War. At night I had to tease the wool for carding, another thing I did not like doing, and one night I was complaining and mother said to me, "No doubt you do think it a great bother to have to tease the wool, but you just think when you are out in the snow to-morrow how you would feel if you have no nice warm socks to wear." The next day I had reason to remember her lecture.

Merry Christmas

Thanks to The Old Flame for finding this.  He thinks it is "too true to be funny."

Thriftmas

Because there just isn't enough compulsory shopping at this time of the year, The Old Flame and I squeezed in a little op-shopping on the weekend.

We found heaps of wool, sewing notions and a toy loom (a bit expensive, but what the hell, it's Christmas), some shirts and these, my favourite things, which I even managed to photograph.

The white cane basket was full of knitting wool - most of it useable, the hand made little blue and white mouse in 3ply wool, the blue darning mushroom, and pink ballet flats with cute toe detail.

Surprise

So I had a birthday.  The perpetual problem of having a birthday so close to Christmas is that it's a big hassle for everyone.  People are busy preparing for Christmas, attending Christmas parties etc.  If I plan a birthday function it's a hassle, so this year I planned nothing but a quiet weekend with The Old Flame.

He managed to surprise me with a gift.  A Tupperware mystery box of goodies.  I'm difficult to surprise, mostly because I tend to buy myself what I want and need, and also because TOF and  I went to Sydney recently to buy each other's gifts, so I thought I knew what I was getting.  I didn't, he surprised me and it was lovely.

The day held a surprise garage sale around the corner, a surprise visit to some friends, a surprise purchase of cute underwear at reasonable prices in a chain store (something I've never managed before - the benefits of significant weight loss) and yesterday, a surprise cake from my colleagues.  I thought I'd hidden my birthday from my friends at work, forgetting that some of them are also my friends on Facebook. 

Jill made a delicious cake which we shared yesterday afternoon.

Touche Turtle and Away!

I just love fnding new uses for Tupperware!

On Second Hand Sunday (29 Nov just passed), The Old Flame and I picked up the base of a Tupperware marinating dish thinking we might have seal lurking in the bits and pieces collection.

It came in quite useful when we rescued this little fellow.  He was trying to cross the Barton Highway at a very busy spot.  I picked up the smelly freshwater turtle, either Emydura macquarii (Macquarie Turtle) or Chelodina longicollis (Snake-necked Turtle), and we took him to a reedy spot near the lake in Nicholls.  He was gone in seconds.  So quickly did he depart, we didn't get another photo.

Live well, Stinky.

Zippity doo dah

Lovely to run into Button Beauty and Consumption Rebellion at Salvos in Philip a couple of days ago.

I was buying old Zip disks for a friend who volunteers in a major national institution helping preserve technology and electronic records.  If anyone has old Zip disks they were considering ditching, I can find them a good home. (And thanks to Twitter friend Sonja who has already pledged a couple more).

Hope the Barbie Camper found a good home. :)

Iron woman

I have a shameful secret.  Really, really shameful.  Only a few people know it and I usually don't like to talk about it.  I quite like ironing.

My post on fabric napkins garnered a lot of "I love them, but hate ironing" comments so I thought I should come clean (so to speak).

Ironing is a bit like making jams and preserves - I'm not that keen on the process but I really love the result.

There is a sense of satisfaction that comes from a truly empty ironing basket that defies description. 

Early memories of my mother are Sunday afternoons watching old movies on the telly while she ironed.  The smell of hot cotton and Fabulon!  I got to do hankies and pillowcases.

One of my household chores as a teenager was the family ironing.  I didn't much like it, but I wanted my pocket money and it was better than mowing the lawn.  When I was at college, I took in ironing to earn extra money.  

Ironing also gave me a passive-agressive outlet.  When Dad was pissing me off (and when wasn't he?), I starched his undies and hankies until they could stand up on their own.  After I left home he complained to Mum that his clothes didn't feel quite right!

But I have to be honest, I enjoy seeing a rail of freshly pressed items and get a thrill seeing people I love looking smart in garments I have ironed.  It's a bit like knitting really.  All that time and effort - you'd only do it for those you love.

The Old Flame bought a divine new ironing board once I started doing his shirts, and I've invested in new spray bottles and pressing cloths and a clothes rack (because I broke the old one with over-use) in this last year.  I even found the much lusted after Elna Press (at a garage sale in South West Rocks in August for $40) - which makes ironing jeans and tablecloths a breeze.

In moments of frustration I dream of leaving work and setting up as an ironing lady.  There may even be a business plan tucked in the back of my diary.  It's a great plan; let me know if you need an ironing lady, I might be able to fit you in.

Now go away, I have a fifties housewife to channel.

Are you being servietted?

New/old napkins on the washing line this morning. 

I bought 17 cloth napkins recently in navy, yellow, red, green and cream at a garage sale for $2 and another 8 navy napkins at the tip shop for $1.    These are going into the big box under the house where we keep our catering sets of glasses and other barbecue and party paraphernalia.  I loathe plastic cups and glasses and much prefer cloth to paper napkins.

Popping cherries

I know it's Summer when the first stone fruits hit the stove in a preseve-making frenzy.

The Old Flame and I took Mum and Peggy off to Young on Saturday and bought up big in the cherry shed on Torry Hill.  30 kilos between us might sound like a lot, but much gets given away.

Sunday, TOF and I get busy with the cherry pitter. 

We sacrificed a bottle of vodka to make two jars of cherry vodka which will be ready in time for New Year's Eve and made a start on the port stockpile Dad left me and preseved a couple of big jars of cherries in spiced port for dessert on Christmas Day. 

There are three containers of cherries poached in cinnamon syrup in the freezer to be eaten sometime in autumn or winter when stone fruits are just a dream.  Five jars of cherry, ginger and port jam also made it off the stove.  I suspect we'll use this more as a sauce than a jam as it's very runny and very gingery. 

There's also a weeny bit of highly concentrated "Essence of Christmas" syrup.  We chucked all the cherry pips and left over syrups from the other recipes which included  port, cinnamon, orange peel, sugar, star anise and lemon skins into a small saucepan and let it simmer while we did the rest of the cooking.  I seem to recall a mango seed also got popped in for good measure late in the day as well.  We then strained and bottled it.  It will be the base of a sauce or two for leftovers after Christmas.

Another couple of kilos went into the dehydrator for winter enjoyment as well.

Then there were the ones that only made it as far as our mouths.  And there's plenty for snacks this week.

Because I'm not the Mummy

I've been wanting to blog about what it's like to care for a parent for a while and not been able to come up with the words.

Luckily, Zuska has done it for me, and for all of us who care for a parent or older person.  While the specifics are slightly different, the issues are exactly the same.

This post was linked to in Wallaby's Down Under Feminists' Carnival, which I found through Penthe.

Progress

Ya know, I may still have "stuff" problems but it is not insignificant that in the last few months I have given away a chest of drawers, repurposed a large wardrobe and another chest of drawers previously stuffed full of unworn clothes, and there's a whole bookcase in this house (3" x 4") currently unoccupied. 

I will admit to the acquisiton of my Nanna's china cabinet, but that is all the new furniture to come in.

Am currently reclaiming the vast tundra of floorspace from the roaming herds of dust buffalo.  OK, so the tundra isn't all that vast, but there's definitely a clearing of modest proportions.

The Bearable Lightness of Unsubbing

The weeks away with Mum allowed me time to assess her level of capability and mine.

She is no longer interested in cooking for herself (although she can still manage biscuits for the grand-children and the dog food - but this can be done in peak energy times, not in the evening when she's worn out), and manage other things like laundry and grocery shopping.

While I was already doing some of these things for her, it was when she asked - now it's factored in on a daily basis.

We have got her more home assistance, so cleaning is not a huge issue and that's a big help.

In the few weeks I've been trying to accommodate Mum's increased needs, my long-suffering mates have been advising reducing my activities. Well I would, but that happened already. I stopped attending SnB and didn't renew my memberships of the textile groups I used to belong to and attend. I have resisted invitations and enticements to join new groups or to take an active role in those I have continued membership of. I don't see my friends as much as I used to or as often as I'd like. I can't afford to give up work and I'm not prepared to reduce the pitifully small time The Old Flame and I spend together so I had to look at other areas that take up time.

This week I've been uncluttering my virtual life: unsubbing from email lists, changing profile settings on the time suck that is Facebook so I don't receive ridiculous email updates, leaving Ravelry fora and unfollowing advertisers and negative people on Twitter.

Now the email I receive is from people I want to keep in touch with and is a joy. The blogs I read are the ones I treasure. There is no blog reading or email replying backlog to make me feel bad and I can keep up with all of this in the half hour or so I allocate to it each morning.

Claytons post

We're back (have been for nearly two weeks), but time and the desire to blog has been limited.

And now I'm back at work.
 
What became very clear being with Mum 24/7 for so long is she needs more assistance.  We're arranging an aged care review to see if we can get her more help around the house, but I'm not holding my breath. 

The schedule around here is pretty tight.  There is less blogging and social networking time, and no complex knitting time.  Luckily I'm nearly
done with the WIPS.  Only one thing to finish, and the rest is
unravelling.  The endless parade of beanies is about to reappear.

I'm pleased to report that The Old Flame's Mum was pleased with her blanket.. We gave it to her last weekend because the Raiders had a night match here in chilly Canberra.  Seemed to do the trick - Raiders defeated top of the league St George 24 points to 12!