- Baking Powder. It’s nonexistent here.
- Oats. Of a price higher than rubies. In England we feed it to horses.
Shops don’t open on Sunday and all but the most jumbo supermarkets shut for a couple of hours to lunch. Thanks to Tesco “24 hours” I had come to believe that shopping at two in the morning for a 42” flatscreen, some pesto and bath salts was a universal human right, burning eternal. For the French, it seems, shopping is what you do to get something you need, it hasn’t yet evolved into a hobby in it’s own right.
Aside from the edible, this is the first thing I’ve made in months.
I was “I need something (granola/toilet brush/solar panel), I’ll make it.” Now I am “I need something (bobble hat/saucepan/power drill), I’ll buy it.” I want to change back again.
P’s suggestion for a cover for my new IPad (thanks G):
“Take two socks, cut them down one side, but not the end, sew the cut edges together to make a bag.” Socks and tea boxes are the basic units of our family’s craft currency.
My shop is still showing signs of life. Maybe not so much life, as residual synaptic firing. Like a chicken without it’s head.
Here are two recent listings:
My little scarf is leaving home and going on a journey to Istanbul! Not Constantinople. Congratulations Askida on winning the giveaway! This gorgeous notebook cover is from her shop (I think it’s “her”, unfamiliar names completely throw me)
Last week my plaster came off. I deludedly pictured an unshackling, my life beginning anew. Deludedly, because this is just one more step in the long, tedious stumble toward health. I walk jerkily, the tension in my tight tendons and shrunken muscles an anxiety causing reminder that I must go slow.
Thus, it was a great week for lovely Mary (of Contrary and 17 Apart) to choose to feature me in an Etsy newsletter. My shop stats rocketed. (You’ll easily be able to see the item she featured, by looking at it’s viewing figures) Thank you Mary! Hello Tim! Hello Basil!
It has inspired me to post a give away. On Monday 17th October 2011 there will be a draw for this gorgeous scarf, made by me. Ten grannies in a row. The blue is a wool and silk thread combined with a Kid Merino, warmth with strength. The purple is Tweed Silk hand dyed by Paula from the Yarn Gallery. Thursday 13th I will place the names of all my subscribers in a hat and pull out the winner.* This means to have a chance to win and more importantly to have the peace of mind that comes with knowing you’ll never miss a Judah’s Blanket post, just click on the little “sign me up” box on the home page.
* Not you Winnie, I’m already making you that other scarf. Don’t be greedy.
Look at these Laurel Berries. Aren’t they luscious? Don’t you want to gobble them up? Well don’t. THEY’RE DEADLY! Well not deadly, just toxic, as we scientifically proved with our random sample of one subject. A couple of summers ago, S snarffed down a juicy handful. Cue inconclusive internet searches. Cue hesitant, yet fearful 999 call (“991” for my two transatlantic readers. Aren’t you both glad you paid that $73.49 for a more personal service?) Anyway, a shaven headed, older man, paramedic hurtled over (He reminded me of Locke. I tried to look like a caring mother and not a feckless female distracted by grizzled charisma) Locke said S might throw up or get the squits but he would be fine. Sigh (of relief)
The next day, in the garden, G turned away for 3 seconds and S hoovered up another berry portion. Lesson learned.
In the news: We bought a power plate, in a lazy/desperate swipe at rippedness. (Not one of these, they’re really expensive) I call it the jiggalator. S heard me and now refers to it as my gigolo.
First woman: My, you’re looking slimmer!
Second woman: Thanks. It’s because I spend 30 minutes a day on the gigolo.
More from S, learning to read:
“J. E. T. J.E.T. Jet! Jetplane! Suffrajet!” Thank you Horrible Histories.
Treasury tool by Red Row Studio.
It’s not for physical fortitude*, nor intellectual brilliance** nor heartwarming altruism***. If you’ve read the comments on my last post you already know. I entered a competition for two greetings cards from the fabulous beat and rubbish. (Their shop is mates and rubbish)
They combine must-have cuteness with an edgy, sometimes gothic vibe. Quirky (with teeth) We haven’t seen that since:
*I didn’t walk 5 miles to get medical help, carrying my own severed arm.
**I haven’t found proof for Gilbreath’s conjecture.
***I haven’t funded a dozen malaria clinics in the Sudan.