Saturday, May 30, 2009
seasonal window displays, starting maybe with fabric clouds and rain drops for winter with monsters wrapped in warm scarves
teapots with cosies and coffee plungers, rows of hooks under the counter for mugs and teacups, and a jar for spare change
a big noticeboard for this months sewing project, upcoming tutorial dates, brown owls meeting times, markets, second-hand sewing machines, giveaways
A clipboard for people to join the mailing list. A little e-zine for the shop with upcoming projects, and craft tips, and the tutorials, what's on-sale, and blogger profiles
me in the corner chatting, sipping tea, creating, knitting, typing, smiling.
That's what I see. Would you come and visit?
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
for this project. Well here he is, hanging out on the stove (it's got good lighting, ok?)
This morning I am sitting snugly with my cup of tea, having arrived cheerfully and earlier than I expected because I got every green light! And intersection! All the way to work! I glided here on my bike like a freakin’ superstar.
This phenomenon is known all around the world. My sister likes to call it ‘Running the Gauntlet’ down a particular stretch of road in Brisbane littered with lights. Also known as ‘The Green Mile’, or ‘Green Run’, or just plain ‘Miraculous’.
No matter where you are, getting to where you’re going unencumbered is like winning a victory. You smile, you punch the air, you feel, well, victorious!
When was your last perfect run? (and what do you call it?) Do tell!
Monday, May 25, 2009
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Friday, May 22, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Remember rushing home because you were expecting a phone call, and practicing your typing on a typewriter?
Remember playing snake and pacman and thinking it was AMAZING? Remember thinking how cool robots would be? Remember drawing your dream house and it had slippery dips and unlimited icecream involved?
Remember afternoons playing cricket or building elaborate lego towns? Remember cubbies of wood, of chairs, of sheets and cushions?
Remember sleepovers and declarations of friendship forever and giggling for no reason into the night? Remember imagining that anything was actually possible and rather probable actually?
Remember when you imagined that grown-ups had it all figured out and ruled the world?
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
The first few weeks were so exciting. I would look at you admiringly as I came through the gate each day. I reveled in the smell of your leaves when I sat on the yellow chair with a cup of tea and watched the street. When you flowered the little white buds filled me with promise and contentment.
But enthusiasm fades (or comes in sporadic bursts, in my case) and soon I no longer noticed you when I checked the letterbox. Your flowers fell without fanfare. I forgot to water you. You developed a magnesium deficiency, some kind of mould, and a droop. Weeds have sprouted at your base, and insects hide in your leaves. I have neglected you.
Yesterday from the corner of my eye I noticed a spot of yellow that wasn’t a fungal disease. You have grown lovely lemons. Four of them. I remembered them this morning and I twisted one from your droopy branch and squeezed it in my tea. It was delicious.
So thank you, lemon tree. Your generosity has rekindled my love for you. I will dig out my garden books, diagnose you, and water you more often. I promise.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Saturday, May 16, 2009
New books downstairs, handpainted tree mural, brick walls, moleskin notebooks, armchairs. The smell of new books.
So I have new pieces to practice, notes in the margins and more enthusiasm than you can poke a stick at. Now I'm just trying to coordinate practice times when no housemates are home; as soon as I know someone can hear me, every mistake is amplified and echoes and I have the overwhelming urge to yell out 'sorry 'bout that!'
My cello is a lovely beast. She is pretty and vibrates around the room and fits me well, I think.
My new teacher also lives about 5 minutes from my house (and through this tunnel under the train tracks). Excellent.