greenolive

creativity delayed

I'm supposed to be chanelling Matisse. Getting all creative with scissors and paper. However those plans are delayed slightly while I rest up in bed, allowing my wound to heal.

A quick trip to the Doctor a week ago revealed that my mid-line incision (up & down the abdomen rather than across like a normal cesarean scar) had opened at the top and bottom meaning it wasn't healing and was leaking stuff. What I thought was a patch of purpley-blue bruising was actually not!

After some cleaning and closer inspection the Doctor diagonised that the opened bit was red and inflamed, BUT not infected. So no antiobiotects, but cleaning and redressing every few days and we'll see how it goes. He was a bit concerned about the Prednisolone I'd been taking for the chest infection as that would be slowing down the natural healing process.

It was almost three weeks since the operation, so I thought I'd be past this point by now. Instead I needed to take things a bit more slowly, and rest up more than I have been. I should have known this whole process would not be smooth sailing: first the cut bladder during surgery, then the chest infection I managed to get in hospital and now the opening wound.

So I haven't been chanelling Matisse this past week. Instead I've been playing or rather distracting myself with Pinterest. And having 12 hour sleeps.

Oh, a followup with the Doctor reveals the wound is healing itself so antibiotics aren't necessary. And, I went for a walk on the beach yesterday. Maybe I am on the mend.

Jack the bowerbird

Jack our puppy – he's 7 months, so I suppose he's still a puppy – has become a real bowerbird. He collects all manner of things from around the house and puts them in his bed or on his mat. Shoes, discarded socks, sticks, twigs, bits of plastic, paper, leaves, pegs – they all become part of his collection. If I'm ever looking for my shoes I know exactly where to find them!

This morning he'd feathered his nest with his handknitted blanket, one of my shoes, two of my socks and the head of a dustpan brush. This photo was taken as his little eyes were about to close for a little nap.

He's so cute I just want to give him a cuddle. 

letting go in 2012

I was supposed to start the new year recovering from a major operation. In fact the first few months of 2012 were meant to be about recovery. But the universe - and Box Hill Hospital had other ideas! At the eleventh hour, in pre-op with a local aneathestic administered, a hospital bed wasn't available for me and my surgery was cancelled.

So I started 2012 in an unplanned way – plans that I had made in mid-Dec were cancelled, and I'm making things up as I go along while I wait for a new surgery date – February, March, who knows? ... Its in the lap of the Gods and the booking clerk at Box Hill. There seems little point in making any firm plans, such as applying for markets like Finders Keepers as I could well be in post surgery recovery mode by the time the market rolls round in March.

I'm taking each day as it comes, or rather as I find it. Days at the studio making the most of the holiday tourist season. Evening walks on the beach with Jack and Drew. Trying to eat healthy. Processing the mountain of vintage books we have collected. Thinking about future ranges and products. Enjoying the summer weather.

As I write this I'm realising that this is a lesson I have to learn: To let go. Its been a common theme in my blog posts over the past four years – my struggle to let go and the opportunities life has sent me so I can learn this lesson. I had one week's notice for my surgery date on 14 December – everything I had planned went out the window as I mentally and emotionally prepared myself for surgery. Then, just minutes from the operating theatre my surgery was cancelled, and I found myself having to let go again.

I've had another "let go" lesson in late 2011. After almost a year of indecision about the greenolive vs vintage prints brand/identity/website, the decision was made for me. Our greenolive domain name had lapsed and before we renewed it someone else snapped it up. So greenolive is no longer: no email address, no website, no identity. So vintage prints it is.

My only plan for 2012 is to have the surgery - Box Hill Hospital willing – to recover quickly and to just go with the flow and let go. Anything else is a welcome surprise and a nice bonus.

they grow so fast

If you had told me three months ago I'd have a puppy AND he would sleep in our bed at night, snuggled down under the doona I wouldn't have believed you. Not one bit.

You see, I wasn't much of an animal person. Shocking I know. We had a dog when I was a baby and toddler – I have photos of me and the dog sprawling on the verandah. And I had a budgie, a 4th birthday present – more photos of me and the budgie. But as I got older, not so many pets. And as an adult, no pets.

But Jack has changed our lives completely. I now find myself cuddling him at every opportunity. Looking into his lovely little face and big brown eyes, telling him he's beautiful. Sitting on the couch or a chair on the deck, with him in my lap, just relaxing – doing nothing. Feeding him every night. And doing the wee and poo clean-up duty when he was in the first few days of living with us. And, now its me who pleads with Drew to let Jack sleep in our bed. I love his freckled pink tummy. And his ears – one up and one down.

He's a gorgeous little boy. And I'm not biased one bit. Whever he's out and about he gets approached by people - young and old - who just want to pat, cuddle or take him home. 

We've had him for almost 8 weeks now, which makes him about 4 months old and he's grown so much. I can't believe how fast. He's doubled in weight, and looks nothing like the little tiny puppy we brought home.

Jack in the car yesterday – he loves driving and the wind in his face.

sometimes he approves (of my op-shop finds)

I have become so used to keeping some of my op-finds close to my chest, so as to keep them under the radar and away from his prying eyes, that it has just become second nature to me.

A clutch of plastic bags are ferried from the car to the house (or studio) as I nonchantly announce "op shop stuff". I find that this is sufficient enough an explanation to discourage any lines of enquiry until I'm ready to reveal my treasures when the time is right.

However, last week I was plesantly surprised. Drew 'discovered' the treasures in an old box in the studio kitchen. His discovery that was trumpted with a loud: Hey, these jars are COOL! Can we get some more?

The jars in question were large and medium-sized Fowler preserving jars, resplendent with dust and grime, and complete with metal lids. Now I don't preserve, so the jar purchase wasn't strictly necessary, so I was expecting they would receive a less than favourable reception.

But, husbands can surprise you. And this time he did. After he enthusiastically requested more jars, I half expected him to wash and dry them on the spot. And I reckon he would have sent me back for more if I hadn't informed him they had sold out. (I knew they were sold out because I had indeed gone back for more the next day, only to find that all the Fowler jars were gone – a bulk lot of 150 jars sold out in one day. And this is a little back street op shop in a sleepy coastal town people.) 

The moral of the story is maybe I don't need to keep my treasure hidden under a bushell anymore. AND, buy all the Fowler jars I find whenever I find them. 

mudlarking on the Thames

(a screengrab from this blog post)

When I was younger, one of the things I wanted to be when I grew up was an Archaeologist.

In fact I think I still want to be an archaeologist. Some of my favourite TV programs are ones that visit old sites in search of snippets of history or ones that search for the ancestors of people today. I'm fascinated by the history of who we were and how we lived. And I suspect I'm also excited by the thrill of finding the unknown.

One of the attractions of Wharburton (just a hop, skip and jump from where we once lived) was the story that you could find bits of metal type along the river bank, left there when the printing factory flooded many years ago. We never did explore the river banks on our many trips out there, but maybe we will next time.

So when I spied this post on the etsy site this morning, I just had to read it and follow the links. Mudlarking – now that sounds right up my alley. The only problem is, if I found anything I'd be VERY tempted to keep it for myself, not hand it over to the museum!

I've just realised that my wanting to be an Archeologist and my slightly obsessive need to collect vintage stuff are linked! 

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OMG: there is an etsy shop selling stuff found in the Thames mud!

AND:  And there is a TV show on the Mud Men.

the pastels of Graham Jones

Just who is Graham Jones I wonder?

Where did he live, and how old was he when he drew these pastels?

And, more importantly, how did his sketchbook find its way to the second hand book store in Kew?

I snapped up this small pastel book as soon as I saw it. It remined me of another book of drawings done by a small child decades ago...

Just like my mum, Graham's mum put his name on the front, top left corner, but his mum inscribed it in black ink. Inside the book is filled with page after page of drawings, each separated by a piece of tissue paper. Some pastels have faded, but most are still quite vivid.

I love that the pastel book comes with instructions! I think the Christmas Tree is my favourite, closely followed by the jumping frog!!

where did August go?

 

Jack – the newest member of the family

The months really fly by don't they? I'm not really sure where August went...

Oh yes, I remember:

> Magnolia Square at Ivanhoe, a HUGE success by any account

> the surgery that wasn't: another reprieve and possibly off the waiting list altogether only to start the 12 month waiting time again

> a complete re-jig of the layout of the beach shak to avoid the drip in the ceiling over the bed 

> a new Puppy, unplanned by dearly wanted – be prepared for lots of dog photos

> a studio of our own! After 2 months packed away in a storage shed, vntage prints & greenolive will have their own studio/showroom once we unpack everything, sort things out and put things away in the right place.

On reflection, we were pretty busy in August.

a walk on the beach

this is why we moved...

Drew took all of photos as I ambled along the shore line looking for shells, pebbles and treasures.

reprieve

Today I should be at the hospital, being admitted for surgery. But instead I'm at home, I have a reprieve.

I listened to my little voice and asked for a postponment. Just a month, til Wednesday 24 August. A reprieve, just enough time for me to be physically and mentally ready for the surgery and to knock our beack shack into shape so it will be a comforting environment for me during my recovery period.

The sun streamed through the windows in the bedroom nook this morning, even with the blinds down. It's going to be such a lovely spot to sit and snooze and read and knit with I recover.

While its not quite finished, the bedroom nook is functional enough at the moment. Its amazing how different it looks from when we moved in. 

We plan to make a long bedhead out of whitewashed tongue and groove boards with wooden crates for bedside tables and a shelf for display. Our landlord has some really nice old wooden packing crates (the shell oil kind) and I want Drew to attach them to the bedhead to form floating display and storage units.

Sorting out the lighting and plants is also on the cards. At the moment we have a candle on his side and a lamp without a light bulb on my side. Drew always seems to end up on the side of the bed closest to the electrical switch or fuse box and this house is no exception. A few tall succulents in an equally tall vase are doing their best to combat any bad feng shui.

We also need some pictures or artwork to go on the wall. I've had this painting since the mid-1990s when I bought it at an art gallery in Brisbane. It tends to find a home in the bedroom no matter where we live, but I want to add some other work to the wall, in shades of grey, and black to compliment its colours. At the moment I'm calling the style vintage beachcomber – let's see how it ends up!

One of the reasons we moved to our oversized double garage was because it was just a hop, skip and jump from the beach. Not a beach on the bay, but a real beach on the coast. A beach with surf and waves where things wash up on the shore. When I reflected on what made me happy, I realised that walking along the beach, stopping to pick up shells and stones was one of the few things that made be happy, calm and content. 

A very long walk (I forgot my pedomoter, but it took 1.5hrs) along the beach yesterday afternoon yielded the treasures photographed above. I also found a cowrie and some light blue sea glass – perhaps they'll make it into another photo. But the best bit ablout the walk? I didn't think about the surgery once.