Sometimes I get a feeling that I've created a monster, that this blog is very demanding, that there is an audience out there in the cyberworld who expect something from me. While it's nice to be wanted and I know family and friends are part of my "audience" they can't make up the numbers I see in my blog stats. I could babble about the mundane details of my life (my trip to K-Mart), I want to keep content here both interesting and anonymous so sometimes I just can't say what I'm thinking about. This past week was a very down one for me and I spent a lot of time missing him, trying by sheer effort of will to get one more hug from him. Of course that's stupid and in many ways I have progressed down this road called grieving and have developed a one person routine. Even tho my dear MIL is there and talks to me most nights, and my friends are a big help, nobody can replace him. I know it, I'm working on dealing with it, but sometimes that's all I'm capable of doing and blogging doesn't get a chance.
This photo is to prove that the Imp does play in the bathtub. I'm not going to show you pictures of the completed project; it looks fairly minimalist now being all white and grey but It may be a rejection of the mess it was. I can't believe how huge it seems with the wall down between the toilet and bath. I know the separate toilet has its fans in Australia and I can understand the benefits of being able to use the bath while some (probably male and with a newspaper) is camped in the toilet, but the amazing space that removing the wall has produced is worth it.
A short rant about about tradesmen. They show up when it's convenient for them, not you (7AM?), make a horrible mess which some of them try to clean up but none do a complete job, and make you feel stupid about everything you ask for. The skylight guy today showed up early (he "forgot" the meeting we had for Weds) and, as I had expected, the frame didn't fit because I measured the wrong place in the skylight because of his inadequate description of what he wanted measured. His solution was to saw off part of the frame around the skylight, right then, over my exposed benchspace, no warning to move things out of the way, just the ending comment of "good thing you had the vacuum cleaner out". There were pieces of wood and sawdust everywhere and I wonder if I had left food out whether he'd have continued. That will be the last of them for a awhile. [the Imp is in my lap and is trying very hard to sleep with her chin on my arm which is way too high for her to be comfortable but she's settled in]
Two old sock photos since I have just a bit to go till I have new sock photos to share. At left is my first Opal socks and they have had many years of wear. At right are the socks I knit out of my very first hand dyed, hand spun and are too pretty to wear. Sorry about the lurid background but my quilt cover is a Sheridan that was the Bear's but turns out it matches my Oriental very well. The rug isn't really "Oriental" but a handmade wool rug made I think in Morocco. It was in the house my father bought when we moved to Florida and was the only thing I wanted when he moved out. He was going to sell it until he got it valued. I will find a photo or take another as it is one of my prized possessions. It's under my bed because cats (not just this one) like to wrestle with it and have already destroyed the fringe. The new guest bedroom is coming together and once I move the chest of drawers out of the former guest bedroom, serious sorting out will begin. I bought picture frames for 3 reproduction Japanese woodblock prints from a calendar that will go on one wall of the guest bedroom. I can't decide whether the large Arthur Streeton print will stay down the back where I will look at it through the big loom or whether it will move. If you want to know which one go here. It was bought in 1986 on our first trip to Melbourne and someday I'd like to see it in the flesh.