I'm sick. Just a cold which, as usual hit first with my losing my voice. There are, I'm sure, people who rejoice when I can only whisper or croak, but I didn't get the chance to have anybody I know gloat at me today. I was supposed to go to a wine & cheese tasting held by the Canberra branch of the slow foods people but I didn't think that would be very productive, in the sense of meeting new people, when I couldn't talk. Besides, of all the local wineries possible, the one chosen was 3/4 of the way to Goulburn and their reds cost the earth (that's what they are famous for) and I can't drink red wine (instant migraine). I did get up and go to the chemist (needed a script filled today) and dragged myself through the supermarket (needed cat food). And find myself standing there debating the pros and cons of bathroom cleaners (store brand vs.brand name vs. "green" vs super-powered and the prices of each) and wonder why do we have to have a choice of 15 bathroom cleaners? Is this what keeps the great capitalist economies turning over? Why do I feel the need for ethical debate with myself over every item that I buy? I cannot raise all my own food even not eating and red meat except for kangaroo. (And don't get me started about the people holding candle-lit vigil because the navy is "culling" kangaroos on their land in the middle of Belconnen because the roos have overpopulated and are in danger of starving to death. Have these people seen the daily road toll in kangaroos on the main road I drive to work? Last time I counted 6 dead in one 5 km stretch. They are starving and trying to reach feed). I do try to buy and eat local, but all fish comes via the Sydney fish markets, all apples are out of cold storage, well, you get my drift. I really think and care about these things but it can all get a bit overwhelming at times.

I have been knitting hats. Don't ask why, don't know. Produced 2 and gave one away and am now back at the Komi hat out of Hat's On! which has Turkish inspired colour work on it and so far so good. Spun a bobbin of dusty rose BFL. Will do another & ply. The first 100% alpaca yarn looks acceptable and I'm pleased with myself. Must spin more to take on the trip for BFLB.

Round 9: We won! I had a few panicky minutes there when I doubted, but we beat Port Adelaide in Adelaide. I only watched the second half and I hope it wasn't screaming over the footy that brought on my sore throat. The cats had forgotten what happens when Mummy watches footy and exploded off my lap when I yelled when Mick kicked a beauty. There was also a segment on 60 Minutes about poor old rugby league losing territory to AFL in Sydney. Boo hoo. Big boofs. AFL is so much more fun to watch that no wonder people love it and there aren't many rugby league players in SA or WA or Tassie, just NSW & Qld. Now that is being challenged and they are worried that their "crowds" of 16,000 matches attendees will dwindle even further.

I read Abby's ode to her mother and was so touched. I wish I had an inspiring mother whom I wanted to say such nice things about. I loved my mother very much but she had many flaws. She did fantastic needlework and I was taught to sew as soon as I could hold a needle. I went from making doll clothes to making all my own clothes from Vogue patterns when I was in high school. I made numerous quilts, mostly sold or given away, lots of cross stitch (ditto). She taught me to knit and crochet but never taught me how to read a pattern so I was OK as long as it was rectangular. She did beautiful crewel embroidery (there is a bell pull with pansies on it in front of me) and knit me sweaters I still wear (except she refused to believe my arms were really as long as they are so the sleeves are usually short). She was also an excellent baker and I still can't match her pie crust. I think she would have been a better cook if my father didn't have such a limited menu of dishes he would eat. When he was away we had forbidden luxuries like lasagne. I am sorry she waited too long to go to the doctor about the lump in her breast so she died at the relatively young age of 74. But she also had schleroderma and it was beginning to cause her problems with her eyes and internal organs and I am willing to bet that got no sympathy from my father. Is there a genetic link that ties into my RA? Who knows. She was equally unhappy with our forced move to Florida but she had a knack for making friends that far exceeds mine. I was shy and convinced I was stupid and ugly and fat so making friends was not my strong suit. I hope she would have been proud of me and I wish she had been happier.