it has a name

It is called a Jones fracture of the 5th metatarsus.
Great. I feel so much better that I can now call it by its proper name as I swear at it.
I have also discovered that after a certain time at night I should not move around too much. Last night I fell over in the bedroom (luckily landing on the bed) jarring the break and screaming, and tonight I almost managed to fall down the stairs while hopping up them.
Jess is taking me to get the Cam Walker boot to go over the cast- YEAH!- tomorrow afternoon.
I spent 2 hours stretching trying to fix up my dodgy lower back that is screaming in agony from all the hopping and crutching.
As you may have guessed this blog is going to be centred on pain and misery for the next few days until things settle down.
Might be an idea to avoid it if whingeing-big-babies annoy you.

clutch

On an UP note... here is new clutch design. Glitter all the way. And it is about 30cm long, like, you know, BIG.

they shoot horses don't they?

Let me explain................
I've had a doozie of a bad (or at least annoying) week with things just being completely out of kilter.
The clutch motor on my favourite sewing machine died, I made the wrong cushions for Craft Vic, just little annoying cock-ups all week- including the hot-water service........ and there in lies todays sorry tale.
I went to have a shower this morning and no hot water again (see post below), cold shower is not really that refreshing. So the first thing I do when I get down stairs is re-lit the damn thing which involves climbing on to and over a plank of wood sitting across a couple of sturdy crucible pots. Having lit the pilot light I carefully climb back over and go arse-over-tit on the concrete backyard, lying there bruised hip, scratched palms and a sore fankle (that's radiologist speak for foot and ankle). I flex it, its sore but ok- that is until I get up and then pain-is-my-friend. Short story long I spent 4 hours trying to convince myself that it was just a torn ligament............ not.
It all ended with Jess taking me to St Vincent's emergency......... broken metatarsal bone, cast and crutches for 4 to 6 weeks......... CRAP.
It's my sewing foot. It's time to do Xmas stock. This week alone I have 2 assessment days at RMIT, 1 meeting and an exhibition to open........... and nothing to wear.............
And by the way I expect you ALL to feel really sorry for me (don't say I didn't make that clear!)
And thanks go to Julia for going to Babka and getting me a danish and the newspapers, Kellie for the Panadeine and Jess for putting up with me until I realised I really did have to go to the hospital.

too handy by half

11.30pm and I've been on my hands and knees down the side of the kitchen re-lighting the gas hot water unit.
Sometimes I really wish I wasn't quite so self-sufficient.
But the thought of no hot water in the morning and a plumber's bill overwhelmed my pathetic 'wish I had a man around the house' feeling (ridiculous because I've always been much handier and practical than any boyfriend I've ever had- and I do not believe in division of labour). I was just being lazy really and wished I had someone to palm the job off to.
Well its done now and thanks go out to the young plumber who explained to me about 6 years ago how to fix it.
If I drank, I think I'd have a nice glass of whiskey about now to celebrate. Cheers!

rainy monday afternoon

It all started when I didn't want to get out of bed this morning....... was having a strange dream that Babka had moved to Chapel St without telling anyone.
It maybe Monday, they may not be open, it may all be a dream but it is not a good start to the week when raspberry danishes could be a car ride away rather than a bleary 2 second stumble.......a bad, bad dream........

Anyway the day just dragged on from there. Spent most of it tying tags to go on a very large order that's going to Craft Victoria- from tomorrow morning it will be re-named 'Craft Durstonia'! Finally I couldn't stand being at the studio any longer (3.30pm) and came home via officeworks. Have burnt a pile of discs with the new photos for Miss Jobson and have managed to actually do a bit of typing in between watching Antiques Roadshow and browsing the internet. I really need to get broadband- I've got a (sort of) sportscar computer and I'm certainly stuck in the slow-lane on the information highway........... I'm just feeling the dull thud of the end of teaching money (groan) and the guilt of not saving any of it. Oh well. back to the scrimp and save. Feast or famine..............

This warm weather is making me feel lacklustre. Its cooler outside but both studio and home are like hot-boxes.
I have vague lustings for an air-conditioner. Very un-PC these days. It feels naughty wanting to be cool.

Which takes me to my new swing tag- Recycled for a shiny, bright tomorrow!
(Yes, it is a joke, if you were unsure.) Tomorrow never comes and I'm just a bit over all the recycled and green clap-trap that is prevelant at the moment. 'Make-and-mend' has only died in the last 20 or so years as we have become more and more the consumerist society. The backlash against disposable fashion that has started has me much more excited than the carbon-credit/carbon-neutral stance that so many (shall not be named here) businesses are buying in to. So I thumb my nose and say 'give me a second-hand tea-towel and I'll make you a bag/cushion/jacket.........insert practical product here'.

first anniversary

Can't believe it has been a year since I moved all my crap into the studio.
Feels like yesterday.
And worst of all is the house is still a bomb-site.
I don't understand how I can't seem to make a dent in the mess.
Having said that though, Spot and I now have a sitting room!
With a wall of bookcases and a COUCH!
Thankyou teaching and thankyou Ikea. (Although I am still waiting for extra shelves to come in at Ikea- this is just wrong- Ikea is like junkfood- you want it now, immediately, pronto. It just feels wrong having to wait!)



Not the greatest shot I know, must remember to bring the tripod home, but Spot just loves the new coffee table.
It has rubbable corners and it is fun to peek through the glass and then pop one's head over the top to sticky beak.



She's never been a couch-potato type but she does now like joining me if I'm sitting reading. The purring is quite ridiculously loud.

So now I just have the rest of the house to sort out....... crap.

By the way the chairs are upholstered in vintage silk velvet, the pouffe is the original sample in gold leather (only ever get the samples and faulty stock!), Spot is sitting on a vintage Hungarian linen flour sack, the rug is a vintage linen carpet picked up for a song ........... and Spot is a 'calico' cat.

practical, pragmatic, peg-bag

Teaching has been eating a big chunk out of my week, taking me away from the studio and tiring me out. I'm not used to having to talk for a couple of hours at a stretch. Ah..... for my ivory tower.
It has been interesting though.

I am feeling somewhat deflated at the moment and when I do get into the studio I just don't feel like I'm making anything particularly earth-shattering, if you know what I mean. The only thing I seem to be creating is MESS. The floor is covered with piles of fabric from half started projects. Cushion inserts arrive tomorrow so the floor will then be covered with blobs of loose stuffing and stuffed cushion covers.

I am quite bored (and if anyone says 'only boring people get bored' I'll head-butt them) at the moment, and its probably bored through lack of momentum. I look at all the fabric covered surfaces and it all looks so uninspiring. Dull.
I have about 60kg of tea-towels piled on one table, I think it may be getting out of control! I wish the elves would just come in and make everything up. Or that I won Powerball. Either would do.

Have a wall of peg-bags made, now I need someone to buy them......................... at least I make practical products......

this one's for you Madame du Barry

Having taken the hint of 'avid fan' I am trying to catch up on a bit of blogging- never was a good diary-keeper or pen-pal in my youth, in fact couldn't see the point of a diary as I could remember quite clearly what I'd done and did not like the idea of anyone else reading my secrets.......
I wonder if the original Madame du Barry kept a diary, what a life-a courtesan, politics , jewellery smuggling, the Reign of Terror and then off with your head.
Makes the soon- to-be election look positively mundane.
(Did anyone notice John Howard's wearing fake tan?)