Little Cookies

Illness takes hold

Going to give this post a go while my energy holds up. I'm still sick and not really getting much better. I've had a stint in hospital to be rehydrated and now have some impressive bruising where they tried to find veins to put the drip in. Also had a nice visit from some ambulance folk the other night when it seemed I was vomitting up a little too much of that red stuff that's stupposed to pump through the body and make us stay alive. Luckily they were really understanding and figured I'd be better in my own bed with a bucket rather than stuck in hospital alone.

So at the moment it's day by day. I miss Miles. I'm too ill to look after him. Mum and Dad have been having him, plus a friend. Amba also took the last two days off to have him. Breastfeeding has had to pretty much stop. I just cant. Hvaing a little hot body on me is a little too much. Now we're down to the token morning and night love in. Can't be any nutrition left in the milk cause there sure as hell isn't any left in me.

So I've hardly unpacked the new house, it's far from feeling like home. Plus I had to miss a blogging get together with some other bloggers that I'd been really looking forward to. I'm still a bit crushed about missing it. (To all those waiting by the mail box for their gifts, you can go back inside for awhile. Might be a bit before I can get to the post office), Hopefully there;s another one in the future I can go to.

Righto, well out of energy now. Back to bed.

Not so noice noises.

Can't type

got the spews

blerk blergh gurggle burp

pardon me.

super brief brief

There's boxes everywhere, but I can offically say we've moved house. New place, new walls to scuff up, new windows to put hand prints on, new neighbours to peer at from behind the curtains.

It was sta-inkin' hot all weekend so I pulled up stumps everyday at 11am. No moving for me after 11am. Especially when it's so hot the sweat pools in your thongs (footwear, not underwear.)

I haven't got the phone line connected yet, so I'm not online, but when I fianlly get there, I will start positng more regularly and about more interesting things than just what I've been doing.

Until then .... here is someone who has found a nifty use for the bag I sent them.

Off the wall (and signing off)

I'm pertty much positive I don't need to sing the virtues of moving house to anyone. Everyone's aware of the character building rigmarol you have to go through. ARGH! I hate it, and the process has only just begun.

(On an upside, I did finally find my car keys that I lost months ago.)

I'm going to be offline for a few days while they transfer our internet connection to the new house. I'm keeping Telstra in business because supposedly they have to send someone out to the  new house to flick a switch. And that'll take 3-5 working days of course. (If I'm ever late paying a bill however they are more than happy to yell at me the instant it's overdue. I'm not sure they'd be accomodating if I told them my payment would arrive in 5-7 days.)

So I'll see you all when we're all moved and unpacked and settled in and I've got a nice cup of peppermint tea in my hand.

I forgot to add that we've had to give away our dog. It's all so sad. Gin has had a really crappy life ever since we moved from our farm into town about 8months ago. No bunnies to chase, no verandahs to sun her belly on. Just a box of a backyard which has made her miserable. Anyway, we can't take her to the new house. No Pers Allowed. So after trying to find someone we know to take her in we eventually had to put a 'free to loving home'' ad in the paper. A lovely couple came and picked her up tonight. She's heading to a farm to be a companion for a puppy that needs a playmate. She's going to be very happy, and I think they're even going to let her inside. I'm so so so happy that it worked out. Still feel pretty bad that we had to give her away, and about losing her, but she'll be okay.

"It's been great, Gin".

Packing List

1. Stop thinking someone else will pack for you. There are no such things as magic packing genies.

2. Cancel gas, electricity, water, male escort.

3. Stop crying over old clothes I no longer fit into and just take them to the op shop.

4. Organise sewing stuff then pack it (read: throw it all in a box and work it out later).

5. Organise carpet steam cleaning and remember to explain large red wine stain near Amba's side of the bed.

6. Clean the whole house like my mother would. Not how I would. Hoping that it's dark when they do the inspection is not good enough.

7. Put a note in the neighbour's letter box saying nice being neighbours and if you stole Amba's ute we're going to deck you.

8. Don't forget to pack the baby.

New life starts NOW

1. I'm moving house. Again. By the time Miles reaches the grand old age of one he'll have lived in three houses. (If he keeps up this trend, and lives until he's 80, he'll live in approximately 240 houses in his lifetime.) After the ute got pinched we've been right royally spooked out of living in the place we're currently in. Great house, damn terrible location. Thankfully the house hunting has been fruitful and now we've got a place that's both great and in a good area. (For all those familiar with Shepp-world, it's down near the golf course. Noice). We had to do some wheeling and dealing to get the place, and thanks to one of our friends who put in a very good word for us, we're able to move in this Friday (holy torleedo I gots to get packing).

2. I'm going to go to Uni. I think I always knew I was going to, but just had to wrestle with it for awhile. I'm still not chuffed about leaving the bubs, and everyone I speak to about the course tells me it's a tonne of work which I'm not looking forward to. But I am looking forward to cranking the cogs in the scholastic side of the brain again. And buying new stationary. I'm very excited about buying new stationary.

3. That's about it. But I think that's enough for one little duck. Anything else and I think I would explode.

(Thanks Lara for emailing the photos to me. They were taken on her man's totally covetable Mac puter on the very fun photo booth program. Now I really really really want a new MAc.)

The devil within

I made one bag, but one bag wasn't enough. I had to have more. MORE. MORE!

I'm going to post them out to some of my dedicated blog readers. There's a gaggle of them out there who are very dedicated. They leave comments, they send other emails, and they freak me out in conversations by seeming to know everything about my life. I always forget that people read the blog when I'm talking to people then someone will say "found the ute yet?" and my heart will do a back-flip and I'll think "how the heck do you know the ute got pinched?" Duh Meaghan, you have a public forum on which you air all the goings on of your life.

With the exception of getting comments back, it's really easy to forget that people actually read this. It's like when I write for the parenting magazine (whose current issue has a cracker photo of Grandpa and Grandson doing loop-de-loops in the pool). I just email it off and don't really think that thousands upon thousands of people will read it. It wasn't until the other week when there was a letter to the editor in the mag which related to my column from a lovely lady whom I have never met who lives on the other side of the country. It really brought it home that people read what I write. Oh god help me.

I made this little dress ages ago. I was going through some fabric to make the bags and re-discovered it. Thought better of turning it onto a bag (although the table runner which I found in the pile wasn't so lucky) No, I'm not secretly harboring desires to have a little girl. It's going to go off to a little munchkin for her first birthday.

Now that the ute's gone (sob) Amba and I are right royally spooked and don't want to live in this house anymore. So house hunting, here I come! It's the worst job, and it's not exactly a relaxed process anymore. No more just drop into the office and pick up a key so you can have a squiz. You've basically got to sign over your first born just to get an inspection. Hopefully it's all swift and smooth. Who am I kidding?

And on a completely different note:

Tag! Your it.

Bloggers like to bring a bit of the school yard to the blogging world and play tag. Someone tags you, like Justine has tagged me (I thought I had the perfect hiding spot behind the shelter shed but she still found me), and now I've got to tell 5 things about myself that I haven't yet disclosed on this blog.

So here goes...

1. Miles has my last name, not my partner's. It's our little ''up yours'' to tradition.

2. I love calling Amba "my partner". It makes us sound like cowboys. Or gritty bent cops from the wrong side of town.

3.Sometimes people think I'm a lesbian. Especially when I say ",,,, me and my partner Amba."

4. I've given up washing my hair. I read about it in a reputable magazine. Apparently your hair's natural oils re-balance and your hair turns awesome. Sounds like a great idea to ditch the poo to me.

5, My backside goes to sleep every time I sit at my computer because my computer chair closely resembles a pile of old bricks.

And now I get to tag five people. So I'm tagging Britney, Ron, Dave, Winona and Natasha. I look forward to reading their responses.

Bags, necklaces and musical criticism

I finally cracked my new sewing machine out of the box. Geez, I can understand why old fogies are scared of new technology.  The machine nearly did my head in, and it's not even a computerized one. The bobbin threads through where and where? You flick what to make the foot drop off? There's a light?! I felt like I was conducting a magic show rather than setting up the machine.

But I got it roaring along (and when I say roar, I mean roar), and made this little bag. The design is inspired by Masako Shibata's bags. I've always loved them but would never be able to afford one myself so I thought I'd just give making one a go. It worked out really well. I'll make a few adjustments when I make another one, but on the whole it's me new favourite thing that I own. The material is an old table runner cut up. I couldn't decide which pattern I wanted as the outside, so I just made it reversible. That solved that problem.

In the mail this week arrived a wonderfully packaged surprise (well, not entirely true. I knew it was coming. But I still acted surprised, so does that count?) It was from Mary at Contrary Garden. It's hard to see in the photo, but the round beady things are actually old typewriter letters. It's awesome. I'm falling prey to the perils of wearing it non-stop and risking it becoming worn out. Nah, won't happen. I don't wear it all the time anyway. I take it off to sleep.

And Miles has something to add ...

                     

The eyes have it

I'm very lucky to have some eyes in Melbourne which keep a look out for things I would love.

                  

Like these Hats. My eyes (Sarah) saw them in the window of a shop in High St, Westgarth, knew rhat I would gush over them, snapped a photo and emailed it to me. Now that's friendship!

Sarah also went a few steps further and worked out they were Chick Pea hats.

Living in the middle of country Victoria offers very little in the way of stimulating handmade thangs. Sarah knows the problem of my isolation so willingli\y takes it upin herself to keep me in the loop.

So knowing she's out there keeping her eye out for something that'd hit my sweet spot makes me feel  a lot less lonely. Especially when that something is sweeter-than-icecream kids hat.