glory day

47 down, 1 to go

The Rugby World Cup has been absolutely amazing.  So far 47 games have been played and I’m pretty sure I watched at least some of every game (unlike the rest of the rugby world I just can’t bear watching Argentina play so I zoned out of those games.  The Argentina-Scotland game would have driven me to drink if I hadn’t driven myself there). 

So it’s less than 4 hours til the final featuring the All Blacks and France.  I think I’m holding it together pretty well – I woke up in tears feeling like someone was sitting on my chest but the sense of impending doom has passed somewhat.

There are really only two teams I feared going into this world cup – Australia and France.  We played Australia last Sunday (and won) but the lead-up to that game was just brutal.  I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat (by which I mean ‘couldn’t eat actual meals but scoffed my own body-weight in potato chips’) and couldn’t read any rugby coverage.  So winning that game and moving on the final was a huge relief.

Now I have France to worry about – and they have form at spoiling our world cup parties! – and I’m all of a dither.  I think I shall have to go and do something repetitive and meditative, like ironing.

I was re-reading Fever Pitch yesterday and some of the phrases were straight out of my brain.  When it comes to rugby I am superstitious beyond belief, and incredibly fearful that something I did or didn’t do will lose the All Blacks the game.  The power is all with me, you see.  Unlike, you know, the actual players on the field.

It’s hard work people, really hard work, but these are the lengths I will go to in order to win the RWC for the first time since 1987.  1987.

The AB’s are the bookies choice for the win and apparently 83% of NZers polled expect to win the game.  But there will be no counting chicken before the hatching in this house!  I remember back in 2000 I’d bought a bottle of champers before watching a Bledisloe Cup game, so that if we won I could have a celebratory tipple.  Time was up, the AB’s were ahead and just as I was easing the cork out of the bottle John Eales went and kicked an almost impossible conversion, giving the Wallabies a 1 point win.  Irritating.  So there’s no champagne here, just in case.

~~~~~

In news utterly unrelated to the RWC I have been a bit stressed lately about the state of my fabric stash.  There are 17 different places where the fabric stash lives and finding the exact thing I want was taking too much time, so sewing projects have been abandoned on the flimsiest of pretexts.

Here is some of the stash – and this is just the fabric that is stored downstairs:

This is about the point where I gave up and moved to Thailand just to escape the mess.

But no, I soldiered on and now everything related to the making of clothes has a place to live (even the patterns!) and hopefully in the fullness of time some of this fabric might actually be turned into clothes, let’s hope.

And after all that work, and vowing and declaring that I would never buy any more fabric again EVER I found myself outside a fabric shop the very next day.  And I bought some leopard-print cotton and some gorgeous black silk velvet and I only felt a little bit embarrassed.

This is why it’s so hard to sort out the fabrics:

Because the needs of Mr Puss will always come first!

~~~~~

Oh hell.  Less than three hours now. GO ALL BLACKS!!

Mzz Clara presents

Today has been one of those days.  The final straw was when the stabiliser-thingies in the washing machine broke? gave up? got tired? and the washing machine shimmied across the laundry floor and wedged the door shut.  I had to climb in through the bathroom window just to retrieve my washing.

Blarg.  Enough of today, let’s have a look at what Mzz Clara is wearing:

Frock: Vogue 9668, belt: op-shop, fabric: Spotlight, bought about two years ago

I see she’s wearing her xmas bow – certainly not something I’d ever leave the house wearing.

So far I’ve made at least six variations on this pattern – either as a full frock or just a skirt – and it’s now at the stage where I could probably make it blindfolded.  Which is useful as I still have another couple of versions to make.

I absolutely adore this fabric – it’s pink and red and burgundy and it clashes so beautifully with itself.  It’s also quite loosely woven and is very cooling to wear.

And yes, of course Mr Puss is in the picture.  He needs to show his disdain for the process by being a part of the process.

Wow, our front door is REALLY yellow, isn’t it.

I’m just not a fan of weather

Honestly it doesn’t seem fair that someone who has a documented inability to cope with summer should also be unable to cope with winter.  Especially in Sydney, where the high temps of summer and low temps of winter aren’t really that far apart.

You can tell it’s winter because Mr Puss has foregone his usual nesting places and is sitting near the heater.  If it’s possible to sit any closer to the heater please let him know:

Thankfully he has finally abandoned his efforts to sleep on top of the heater.

Op-shopping from the volunteer side

I volunteer at a local op-shop for a few hours a week.  I started volunteering three years ago when I was recovering from a long illness – I was feeling better than I had for a while but still not ready to go back to work.  The op-shop I volunteer for is attached to a shelter aimed at re-homing cats.

I thought I had heard all the annoying things people say to op-shop workers:

• Do you want to buy this dress from me  – it’s only $35!!  [NO.  We are an op-shop and are totally reliant on donations.  Also I wouldn’t buy that raggedy pink satin dress for $2, let alone $35.]
• If I buy it and then I don’t like it can I get my money back?  [NO.  Have you even been into an op-shop before?  Sure you can bring it back but we won’t be giving you any money for it.]
• Can you order me this item in a different size/colour?  [NO.  Again really, you’ve never been into an op-shop before?  We are totally reliant on donations, and while it sucks that you can’t find that item in the size/colour you need, we can’t help you there.]
• Can you check out the back to see if there’s anything else like this?  I can watch the till while you’re gone!  [NO, and I am NOT STUPID!]
• Are you just charging me this much because you think I’ve got money? [NO, I was charging you $10 for a full dinner-set because that is a fantastic price – would you say that to the folks at KMart who would charge you four times as much?  I find this whole conversation very confusing.]

And I thought this was the full list until yesterday when I was asked:

“Why are you following me around?  Do you think I’m going to steal from you or something?”

To which my honest [albeit unspoken] reply was “Dude, I’m just futzing with the scarves and didn’t even really register you were there.  But with the unprompted reference to stealing?  Yeah, I’m going to be watching you now.”

Until I started volunteering I had no idea that people would steal from an op-shop.  But they do!  Blanket statement: IF YOU SHOPLIFT FROM MY OP-SHOP YOU ARE A SCUM-SUCKING PIECE OF SHIT.  Also?  You are taking food from the mouthes of tiny, tiny kittens.

Volunteering at this op-shop is awesome and boring and irritating and rewarding, sometimes all in the same hour.  Before I started volunteering I assumed that the customers would be students and hipsters looking for cheap vintage clothes – oh and actually me, because I’ve been an op-shop customer since I was 7 (my nanna used to work at an op-shop).  But in reality we have people who can’t afford to shop anywhere else, people looking for bargains, people who are ethically opposed to buying new things – a huge cross-section of the inner west.

I know some of our customers are in dire financial straits.  Many of our customers suffer from addiction problems and/or mental health and/or social problems.  Seriously, for some of them the contact they make with an op-shop worker might be their only social interaction for the day.  Yesterday a woman started chatting with me about various things – teapots, indoor plants – and because I was in the middle of doing something else my side of the conversation was pretty much limited to the “uh huh, oh really!” type of comments.  When she left she said “thanks for letting me talk”.

Sometimes I find it hard to strike the balance between working on behalf of the charity (ie, getting the best price possible) and doing my best for the customer’s needs (which might have nothing to do with a commercial transaction).

~~~~~

Here Mr Puss sleeps in a most uncomfortable manner:

He wanted to sleep in the sideboard.  It meant nothing to him that the sideboard was covered in piles of junk, perhaps that was part of the appeal.

I was right!

Evidence that yes, my cat had something to do with the munted palm frond:

Summer: 1; me: 0.

Summer has absolutely kicked my arse this year - I don't remember it being so humid and cloying since 2000 (my first Sydney summer).  I don't cope well with the heat - I don't like my make-up running, I don't like sweating and I'm NOT a fan of sunburn.

And the heat has leached all my motivation/creativity/spirit/will to live.  I haven't cleaned the house for ages, I can't be bothered cooking, my sewing machine has cobwebs.  De and I are walking once a week rather than every night.

Then there are the mosquitos (to which I am allergic).  I spend most of the summer with painful and inflamed bite marks on my legs (and arms, and face, and chest.  And pretty much everywhere else).  And the fleas!  I have NO IDEA how my cat gets fleas - he has supervised access to the enclosed front courtyard which has no lawn, and has no contact with other animals - but oh hell yeah, he gets the fleas.

OK, so 'funny' story: we were going out the other night, and I could feel a hair brushing my cheek, but couldn't find it to touch it.  I looked in the mirror and discovered that there was a flea on my face.

Let's do that again, shall we?  I was about to go to a nice restaurant for dinner and there was a FLEA ON MY FACE.  Seriously, that was one of those primal moments from which I may never recover.

I mean, I Frontline, I bomb, I lux, I powder, but the little buggers are still there!  And nobody else ever gets bitten or anything (and I'm fairly sure David's never see a flea) but because I'm so allergic to the bities they lurrrve me and lie in wait for me.

Thankfully it looks like the temperatures might start dropping over the next few weeks.  I've been taking massive amounts of B vitamins to combat the blues and started planning what I need to do next.  I refuse to be beaten by a season.

Oh actually I have done something - I made a lap blanket for De.  Here Mr Puss indicates that my colour blocking is simplistic and jejeune:

But he has fleas, what does he know.

Why I get nothing done

I didn't know I was so fascinating until we got a cat.  A cat who follows me everywhere and watches my every movement.  Which is quite cute and all, until we get this:

CLAWS DO NOT GO IN FABRIC AAAARGHHHHH.

And tomorrow we shall lunch nicely

RUGBY:

Last Saturday we went to watch Uni play at North Sydney Oval.  The weather was perfect for rugby and NSO is such a pretty ground:

Uni dominated from the beginning of the game, and wrapped it up at 69-3.  Still top of the table.  Here are Norths on attack in the second half:

which sadly (for them) came to naught.

Rugby season is very difficult at the moment as I'm following the fortunes of Uni in the local Sydney competition, Otago in the Air NZ Cup competition (and a Shield challenge this week!  fingers crossed!) and the All Blacks in the Tri-Nations competition.  The AB's lost last week as predicted; until the coaching staff changes they are destined to be woeful, I'm afraid.

SEWING:

A whole pile of banded tops and overdue mending, not exciting enough for a photo.

MR PUSS:

He is currently yowling his head off downstairs, because he has just had dinner and isn't that a good reason to yowl?

Photographic proof that he once played with something!  (He does not "play".  We think he finds it demeaning).

LOOKING FORWARD TO:

De comes back from the States tomorrow, hurrah!

Illicit Thursday

Today I am not where I should be.  I should be at the op-shop raising money through retail, but I'm so very PMS-y and stabby, and the idea of trying to have a conversation with anyone makes me want to chew off my own face.  I'm at the place where, if anything slightly stressful happened, I would lose all sense of proportion and go totally postal.  Much better idea just to stay at home, I thought.

Also there will be potato chips.

The celebrations are still in full swing here, as for the first time since November we now have hot water in the downstairs bathroom.  I KNOW!  It's so exciting!  Also the leak under the sink has been fixed; really it's all too much at once. 

We went to see Terminator: Salvation last night, really just because we wanted to go to the pictures.  I wasn't expecting to enjoy it overly, but I thought it was great, certainly much better than T3.  Then we went to Asakura for dinner which is always good.

All my projects are continuing apace - De's house is becoming uncluttered at a rate of knots, and I've finally finished cutting out my surprise! blanket.  I could wish to be in slightly less pain but what can you do.

Maybe it's just me, but that doesn't look at all comfortable.

Some variety at last!

Sometimes it seems like I write the same damned thing over and over again (generally about the losing ways of my beloved Highlanders, the poor befuddled dears).  But then some times it seems the same things happen over and over - the Highlanders lose, I make a frock or maybe some jewellery.

But this week so far has been quite unusual compared to the weeks we generally have.  Yesterday David bought a new toaster, which is definitely a once-off in his life as our former toaster had been in his family since 1971:

Goodbye, devout and faithful toaster!  You delivered us all our bread-related treats and tried to teach me that all orange kitchen accessories aren't the work of the devil!

Sadly it was time for Old Reliable to be retired as it was shorting out the power supply.  In it's stead we have a lovely chrome curvy toaster with an "integrated bun warming rack", which sounds ... fascinating.

Last night we went to Blackbird for dinner - Blackbird is one of my favourite places on Cockle Bay and while I still have reservations about their service I love the food there.  Caesar salad with king prawns, oh my, oh yes.

Then we went to see Red Cliff which was showing at the State Theatre as part of the film festival.  We arrived to find the queue wrapped around the block, and after waiting for about 10 minutes we were told that the starting time would be delayed by about half an hour.  Did I mention it was absolutely bloody freezing in that queue?  With the wind screaming down the CBD wind-tunnel?

Very grumpily David and I went to a dodgy pub to get out of the wind.  We talked about maybe not going back - there was no way they were going to fit that amount of people into the theatre quickly, it was late, we were cold, we could see it at the Dendy later.  But we went back and although the queue was even longer it started moving quite quickly.  In a few minutes we were inside the lovely old theatre, we were toasty-warm, the seats were comfortable, all was right with the world. 

Then a woman came on stage to introduce the movie, and instead introduced John Woo!!  I tell you what, I was squeee-ing like a teenaged fangirl.  I didn't actually know he was going to be at the screening (probably because I don't listen, concentrate or pay attention) so that was a very cool surprise.

Red Cliff was amazingly awesome and fantastic, by the way - well worth a look.

Oh, and another thing that happened this week which doesn't usually happen: I got assaulted.  While riding home on the bus the other night some teenaged girl punched me in the face.  Twice.  It all seems to be a case of girls acting badly (as opposed to someone wanting to punch me, specifically, in the face); the police came round and took a statement and my face is pretty much fine.

While I'm always open to a bit of variety in my week I draw the line at physical violence.  Although our cat bit the policeman, so that was a tiny bit funny.

And here's something else that hardly ever happens: Mr Puss, slayer of policemen, naps on the black sofa:

I guess if you really want a cat to sleep on a sofa you need to cover it with fabric scraps.