greenolive

forgotten embroidery

Having a landlord who owns an antique shop is rather handy. Especially when you love all things vintage as we do.

I spent few hours last week rummaging around and found several treasures. One included an old, dusty sewing box of the woven raffia kind. Hidden inside were pieces of embroidery in all states of completeness, snippets of old card bound in brightly coloured threads, several soft crumpled brown paper bags full of thread and a few vintage packets of needles. What a find!!

Some little old lady had spent hours with this box. Embroidering each piece in tiny, careful stitches. Cutting and winding each coloured thread onto a piece of small cardboard, then neatly labelling each one. It seems her handiwork was of no value anymore, no one was interested in it, except me.

 

The contents of the box were emptied into a cardboard box – I got to keep them and my landlord kept the raffia embroidery box to clean it up and sell it on. I wonder who will buy it and what they might keep in it?

a dash of orange

I'm really attracted to orange now. I've been buying orange yarns lately.

Why?

Orange is an aunty shabby colour – this gorgeous orange crochet scarf was made for her birthday last year. If either of us are out shopping without the other, it's a safe bet to buy her anything in orange, and me anything in green. After all, my name is greenolive, not orangeolive.

So why the orange? And why now?

I did a bit of research on the colour orange, what it means and what it represents. And now I think I understand why I'm being attracted to it subconsciously.

Orange...

• is a power colour, a healing colour

• stimulates enthusiasm and creativity

• is the colour of lady luck – if you need to bring about a change burn an orange candle for seven nights

• represents curiousity

• can balance emotions in times of stress and shock

• is associated with the second chakra.

So, it seems we could all do with a bit or orange in our life!

two thousand and fine

happy new year

My mantra and goal for two thousand and fine is balance – just like these raindrops on this leaf edge.

I really couldn't wait for 2009 to start. 

I've decided it is going to be my best year ever. EVER! And I think it's no coincidence that nine rhymes with fine. Because 2009 is going to be FINE in the greenolive household.

So many of the things we have been struggling with for years are finally dropping away, being resolved, lifting. So many of the things we wanted and dreamed for are happening. And if they haven't happened yet, the foundations are well and truly laid. And things seem to be finally going our way, even when the solution isn't one we expected but the end result is the same. About time I say!

As I begin the new year, I think back to the start of 2008 and what I had wished for. I re-read my reflections on 2007 – what a difference a bit of time makes to your perspective! And I looked at what I had hoped 2008 would bring... well it brought some of that and some other stuff I didn't wish for but needed to go though/deal with.

Two thousand and fine is full of possibilities, and I can't wait!

I hope your 2009 is everything you wish for.

too sick to spin?

crazy but true

 

One of the gorgeous spinning batts that arrived in the mail earlier in the week. I'm itching to spin but I'm too sick.

Hard to believe my friends, I know. But it is true. And its official. The Doctor said so. Well not that I can't spin, but that she hadn't heard a chest like mine for awhile. 

I've had the dumb luck to get sick when I had two days off work. Two days off, a Friday and a Monday meant I had a four-day weekend. And I had plans. Lots of them. And a Mother of all To Do Lists. It went something like this:

1. redesign website

2. sew silk selvedge scarves

3. sort out etsy site

4. etc... 

By Sunday afternoon, without as much progress on the list as anticipated, my chest was feeling heavy and sore. As any asthmatic knows these are often the early warning signs that things are going to get worse. So I had the good sense to down tools, and jump into bed for a nap.

By Monday afternoon, I called it quits (the To Do List will just have to wait) and put myself to bed. Needed to head whatever this was off at the pass cause I had work on Tuesday.

Tuesday morning, feeling worse, called in sick and headed off to the doctor. Bed rest, fluids and pain killers. I managed to fit in a bit of knitting between the bed rest, fluids and pain killlers.

By Wednesday I wasn't so interested in knitting, and the chest was worse.

The 48 hours that were Thursday and Friday passed in a feverish blur of phlegm, pain, wheezing, coughing, chills, sneezing, aches, two boxes of tissues, and snatches of sleep around 3 in the afternoon or in the morning. I was even off my food. With my fair share of chest infections under my belt, even I knew this was serious. I had never felt this sick before. And I wasn't even thinking about knitting, spinning, silk selvedge scarves...

Saturday morning saw me back at the doctor. Pneumonia was even mentioned. I got some kick arse antiobiotics and a dose of corticosteriods. Take that chest infection!

I'm so glad I'm not a world class athlete. 'Cause you know what? With those corticosteriods in my system I'd flunk an anti-doping blood test!

a little something to cheer me up

Some of the fabrics in my Lotta Jansdotter linen remnant bag.

Before you get too stressed out about why I need cheering up and start imagining the worst, I'm ok. Now. But I have been feeling unwell, out of whack and off balance ever since we moved house. And it all came to a head in the last few weeks and the doctor gave me some time off work. 

So I needed a little something to lift my spirits. Endless knitting, numerous cups of tea and late sleep-ins just wasn't doing it for me. Neither were the antibiotics!

I managed to get the last one. Lucky me! And it arrived from New York in only a few days.

If you are jealous, more photos over at flickr (soon).

blood, sweat and tears

the aftermath of the move

Self-portrait of Mr greenolive's bloodied hand. He's right handed which means he took this photo with his left hand. He emailed it to me at work along with some work-in-progress shots of the layout of the studio so I could give him feedback on where I wanted things to go. He knows me so well! He's set everything up so I can just unpack all weekend.

The evidence of the blood (Mr greenolive's). The sweat was his also. Mine were the tears.

This move totally overwhelmed us. It was our seventh and it was just around the corner (literally).

I don't know what tripped us up - take you pick from the list below:

a) not enough moving boxes meant we had to pack stuff, move it to the new place, unpack the box, then repack it again.

b) my sister and two of her kids (The Inventor and The Button Master - read her blog!) came to stay the weekend before we moved which meant no packing, sorting and cleaning, and no moving the small stuff.

c) the move was literally around the corner (about 800m east of where we use to live) so we didn't factor in the driving time to and fro and totally underestimated how long it would take

d) we did the move ourself with the help of Trent, the father of Jack (our favourite dog)

e) we now have a studio to put all my crap, sorry, stash in and once that was moved (15 car loads - a hatchback filled to the brim) we thought we had broken the back of the move (we hadn't!)

f) if you don't factor in the studio (9m x 5.5m) the actual house is smaller than the one we were moving from which meant packed boxes actually got in the way of walking to the bedroom, the bathroom, the kitchen, anywhere...

g) the completely anal wife who needs stuff to be sorted and placed in its new home just so

h) the fact that it rained on the big move day

i) that I'd only taken two days off work and if you consider f and g above that was woefully inadequate.

Actually, now I read this list, all of the above is the correct answer.

I will stop boring you with the details and pictures of the move and the chaos. I'll concentrate on unpacking and organising and then show you some lovely AFTER shots of the studio and the sorted stash.

Don't hold your breath, it could be a while...

Photo of one of the tidier bits of the studio. Don't be fooled, it isn't all like this.

I'm not going to miss...

One of the lovely sunsets seen from our deck, Melbourne skyline in the distance. I will miss this!

When we leave this place I'm not going to miss:

• the horrible ducted heating which dries me out
• the lack of a bath tub for me to splash around in
• the fact that Jazzy Jazz has to weather the elements because there is no garage or carport
• the young men in their hotted-up cars who think racing along the Mt D Tourist Road at 10pm on Thursday, Friday or Saturday night is ok
• the lack of space for my ever-growing stash
• the overgrown garden that the landlord won't mow
• our downstairs neighbour who cooks the smellest things and the smell wafts up our staircase.

I will miss:
• the fabulous view of Melbourne from our west-facing balcony
• the fact that the shops are a two minute walk from our place (very handy for Mr greenolive since I take the car each day)

Now only 4 more sleeps still we move! I'm so excited.

And thanks for the tips for organising my stash – I'll take lots of before, during and after shots of the chaos.

Is everything in your house knitted?

well, not everything, but most things!

That was the innocent yet loaded question my favourite nephew asked me on Saturday morning as he sat at the dining table, set with the newly-finished table runner, about to eat his breakfast of gluten-free pancakes.

You could be forgiven for thinking everything was, for he was wearing a jumper I had knitted him, and had taken to wearing the yellow easter egg basket as a beanie. Earlier he had to try on his sister's new poncho so I could check it for size. He'd also noted the volume of wool I had stashed about the house. Oh, I forgot about the knitted wash cloths I sent them for Christmas...

As he was sitting down with the crochet table runner, I smugly informed him, that No, not everything is knitted, some of it is crocheted! (I don't think he understood the difference!)

This was one of many funny family moments during the weekend while my sister and her two boys were down from Brisbane. I was reminded how funny children can be without even trying to be funny. And we had lots of cuddles and kisses which will have to tide me over til I see then again later in the year.

And if I ever feel the need for a 'fix' I can read her blog*, worstdayever, which makes me feel like I am right there with them.

*Note: she has only just started her blog, writing posts in bursts, fitted in around work, children, husband, and life. I'm her blog consultant, helping with uploading photos, story ideas, and general encouragement.

a little bit of focus

works wonders

These ribbons have nothing to do with focus and everything to do with stash enhancing. There was a huge haberdashery sale at a house up here today and I was unable to restrain myself. But I only bought the good stuff, more photos to follow soon.

When you focus you can achieve quite a lot. I was reminded of this during the past week, when I started to focus on completing things, resolving stuff.

A lease signed.

The first month's rent paid.

Planning started.

A crochet table runner completed, and used this morning.

Several fabric scarves finished AND worn.

A special present started, finished and wrapped.

Fresh spring water collected.

A replacement poncho started.

Four entangled scarves sewn up.

A pile of paperwork sorted and filed.

It's now two weeks til we move and I have so much to do, sort, pack, chuck...

I wish I could just fast forward to the bit where we are moved in, the studio set up and the vegie patch planted.

I'm such an impatient Taurean!

36 hours

is never enough!

Evidence of my productivity over the weekend.

Why do we create to-do lists that are so long we could never get through them, even if we didn't sleep for a week?

(rhetorical question - you don't need to answer it!)

It seems 36 hours in a weekend (not including Sunday night sleeping) is not enough for me. And that I over-plan my weekends meaning I have no option but to reach Sunday afternoon feeling tired, cranky and like I didn't get anything done.

Working full-time means my weekends are for relaxing and recovering from the week that was, and regrouping for the week ahead, but it seems that I don't get this. Plus, you need to leave time for stuff to just happen.

This was what I had on my plate for the weekend past.

I did this stuff:

> trip to Spotlight (oops, Mr greenolive got to the bag before I did and saw the receipt, I hate how they stick it to the outside of the bag!)

> some groceries

> a bunch of 14 new ribbon flowers, some destined for Mikes (they sold out of the first batch, I wonder who bought them?)

> progress on the crochet table runner (about 30 cms or two balls' worth)

I didn't do:

> sew up the dusty pink singlet

> start Hannah's poncho (her brother Myles has appropriated the first one)

> spot of stash sorting

But I made time for:

> visit to weekend market to check it out

> discovering a roll of cotton lace (below) and a wooden folding ruler

> making a new batch of dried fruit compote

> gaining agreement on the wool and pattern for a new jumper for Mr greenolive - he wants the steel grey colour, not the right, royal purple!

Not bad for 36 hours work, is it?