Chickafinty ~ A Life in the Laundry

"Just because it's written down doesn't make it true"

This piece of advice was handed to me by my new doctor.  Of all the things he has said this is the one piece of advice/counsel that has stuck most firmly, and the bit to which I cling when piddling about on the internet.

Unfortunately the bit about being able to walk away and not be upset by something was very short-lived - about a month to be precise - and I'm back to being on tenterhooks on the internet.  This morning I read something that made me very angry indeed.  It was written by a person whose opinions always rub me up the wrong way.  (In fairness I suspect that my opinions make her feel likewise.)  As usual she was spouting off on a topic that has nothing to do with her, and is never likely to affect her.  I had to breathe deep and walk away.  It's her opinion.  I don't share her opinions - on anything - so today's pontifications were hardly a surprise.  It would be pointless to disagree.  So the best option is to simply walk away.  Again.

So close I can almost taste it

90 days down and 2 days to go until spring.

Already the quality of the light and air has changed.  There's a promise in the breeze that warm days are coming.  The birds in the backyard are, more often than not, cavorting in pairs and preparing for the spring to come.  The sun has climbed higher in the sky and is equally favouring the quadrants of the clothesline.  I know that's a bit prosaic for a litany in praise of spring, but it's the little things like that which matter.  And this is after all the account of a life lived in the laundry.

For the first time in years I have the time to stop and notice the change in the season.  There's time to stand still for a bit and watch the sun, ponder its movement and glory in its warmth.  Today is chillier, and I'm tempted to grab a jumper, but I won't.  Spring is almost here and it is so close I can almost taste it.  The light is different.  It's not the icy light of winter any more.  The days are longer, but not yet all that much warmer.  They will be given the passage of a little time.  We had a few days, a fortnight or so ago, where winter stole a few of spring's days and the warmth of the breeze soaked into every pore.  Then winter turned nasty again and all we were left with was the memory of sun.

It's so close.  We'll mark off the start of another season.  I'll pack away the jumpers and my beloved rugby top for another year.  This has been the rugby top's 15th winter and it is showing its age.  It's frayed at collar, the hem is hanging and with every wash it threatens to become a little more threadbare, but it is my favourite garment.  It makes winter bearable.  I've had to apologise for it this year because it looks so ragged, but despite its decrepit state, or perhaps because of it, I love it.

Spring is coming.  In two days it will be spring.  Another winter weathered, and a new season to anticipate.

Me time

This afternoon all is quiet, except for the dishwasher.

The house is empty of Mister Bear, Chickabid, Ladybug and Gyspy Jane.  It's just me alone.  I can't remember the last time I had time to be alone and to do nothing in particular.

For months I've been at work on the supersecret project, my Organised Fidgeting*, but that was completed yesterday when I sat and crocheted like a madwoman.  I still have a blanket on the go for Chickabid, and one slightly less along for the Ladybug, but I am kind of all crocheted out for a little while.  Their blankets will keep until we're all together and catching up on stuff on the TiVo.  For the moment I am merely enjoying the silence and the freedom of having nothing in particular to do.

In a minute or two I'll sign off here and fetch the scrapbooking box.  I have a few layouts that need finishing touches, and I have a whole bunch of ideas from here to explore with scrappy things.  There's a box bursting with photos that need scrapping.  I have barely touched scrapbooking in about 3 years - too unwell to think about it - but now that life is on the improve I need to capitalise on this.

I see the dr this week about my new med protocol.  There are not words to thank him enough.  I have my life back, but a better life than I could have dreamed about.  In looking back I think I have been sick for most of my life, without knowing it.  At least since I was 18, and possibly longer.  It is not beyond the realm of possibility that a particular traumatic event that occured 30 years ago could have triggered the illness and that it has been undiagnosed at least that long.  Everything is different now and I am having to learn how to live a new life.  It's a bit tricky, espceially when long ingrained patterns of behaviour no longer occur.  All I can say to the doctor is "Thank you", but that doesn't seem adequate.

I also have to write about Maria's visit...I'm finding it hard to believe that the visit has come and gone.  We were looking forward to it for so long, and now it's in the past.  It was a wonderful 2 and a half days and I will be forever grateful for the chance to meet someone who is now a firmly entrenched part of our family.

Another day

I have woken this morning feeling...good. 

For most people this would hardly be an astonishing fact, but for this little ducky it is an achievement, and is most likely associated with the diagnosis I alluded to yesterday.  Please, may it continue ad infinitum, Amen (even if it does come in a little white box).

Today is going to be a loose ends day.  I have a few loose ends in the vicinity of the laundry, or to do with the laundry and once they are squared away, the canvas is blank and awaiting the 2011: The Year I Am Organised brush.

On a side note, when I use the word laundry here I am referring to the room, not the clothing washed in that room.  It seems in the US the word laundry is most often used to describe the dirty clothes waiting to be washed, or waiting to be dried, or folded or ironed, as in "I have a laod of dirty laundry to be dealt with", whereas we'd say "I have washing to be dealt with", or possibly "dirty washing".  Curious use of language here as washing is an action verb, but it's being used as a noun.  Hmm.  Love language and its twists and turns.

So, enough prevaricating on typepad, and onto the laund....I mean, washing.  And ironing.  And folding.

Coming to terms

Had a drs. appointment last Tuesday and was given a new (and very unexpected) diagnosis.  If you know me IRL in all probability you'll hear about it from me some time soon.  It's nothing to go into orbit over (and you'll be pleased to know it's not fatal), but it's something I'd rather speak to you about in person.  Once on the internet, always on the internet and all that jazz.

Anyways...the treatment schedule has changed a little and is playing havoc with my real life, so the online life has suffered a little.  Also, we're down to just 20 days before Maria arrives in Australia, so the Great Big Enormous List of Everything To Do Before Maria Comes is well underway.  I'll post some photos of the progress down that path.

Have done some blog rejigging and stuff, so if there's nothing here at Chickafinty, this is where I might be:

Loosely Classical - everything homeschooling

pugglecraft - everything craft and homemaking

Messie Lassie - a renewed attempt at getting everything under control, only this time I have a real shot at it...see opening paragraphs of this blog entry. 

Maria...don't have a fit at the long list on Messie Lassie...it's what *I* need to do to stay healthy and this would be happening even if you were not coming...trust me :)

Exhibit A: The Ironing Pile

I think this calls for a visit to the DVD store in order to get it all ironed without going mad.

 

 

Found my crocheting mojo

Mum taught me to crochet possibly 25 years ago - coulod be longer - and from time to time I dig out the old crochet hook and go wild, usually with highly unachievable projects using extremely unsatisfactory yarn and then wind up giving up and shoving the project in a cupboard somewhere.

A good while ago, like last year, I found a rather fabulous crocheted bag via Melissa, who got the pattern from Lucy.  It looked achievable even for a part time "hooker" like me, and so we trotted off to Spotlight to buy us some wool. 

This time I actually bought proper yarn.  Yarn that cost more than $1.00 a ball, but true to form I didn't buy enough.  I was seduced by Cupcake by Moda Vera.  It is by a long way the nicest, softest, most visually beautiful and texturally wonderful yarn I've ever encountered.  I know that knitters wax lyrical about their yarns, but having touched this one I can totally understand why.  Anyway, I bought not even close to enough balls of Cupcake in the four acceptable colours Spotlight had, and commenced the project.

It crocheted up waaaaaay quicker than I anticipated and in less than a week I had run out of yarn.  With no money left to buy more the project got tucked into a bag and shuffled out of sight.

Then a friend of mine told me that she was going to become a grandma!  Can't believe I'm in the age group where friends are becoming grandmas (!) and I broke out the old knitting needles to make a blanket.

I am the world's worst at finishing things, especially craft projects, but I was determined to make this blanket.  It took the whole gestational preiod of the baby plus five weeks, but I finished it, darned in the ends, washed it in woolwash and it's ready to be wrapped tomorrow and passed onto my friend.  It's a non-traditional baby blanket, but then then recipient is a pretty non-traditional sort of person and I can't imagine her being the lacy wooly blanket kind.

Here it is:

It's a varigated rainbow wool, predominantly green in hue.  The top and bottom triangles are in a brighter hue and the middle section is in a darker hue.  It's a very simple pattern...this one to be precise.

So, having actually finished a project, I was inspired to try more.  The kids and I hit Spotlight last Friday and we managed to buy a little more Cupcake, but Spotlight's stores were running low.  We decided to hit another Spotlight store and got a whole stack of Cupcake.  I couldn't resist beginning the bag again.  It has taken about a week to get it to this stage:

The bag itself is completed and edged, both handles are made, but only one handle is sewn on as...

last Saturday, in preparing for the family birthday party, I burned my arm on the oven shelf.  I was too busy on Saturday to pay too much attention, but by the time the party was over there was a very nasty burn  glowing across the back of my wrist.  It's been getting gradually more painful and this morning I woke up to a swollen, aching, extremely painful hand.  It was noticeably red and warm to the touch and the redness was creeping up my arm,s o instead of going to church I went to the doctor.  It's infected and the dr has prescribed antibiotics, but has also issed an instruction to rest the hand.

NO!!!

Not when  I have my mojo back :(  I tried to crochet today.  I really did.  But no, it's too painful and I have had to pack it in.

As Chickabid and the ladybaby would say "Boo thumbs" to that.

(I have the wool ready to go for a blanket in granny stripes - see Lucy's site - but that has to wait as Ladybaby has requested a crocheted bag of her own and that's higher up the priority list.  Chickabid has requested an orange?!? blanket....hmmm, we'll see.

The Thirty Nine Steps

It was my birthday yesterday and I hit 39.
Next year is the landmark birthday, one of the milestone birthdays, but this one has had a weird effect.
By the law of averages I have lived half my life or thereabouts. It seems appropriate to stop a while and take stock. At the age of 40 my dad left his job and returned to full time service for the Lord. At the age of 40 my sil left her old life and started a new one. At the age of 40 my mum was still running around with a four year old and a two year old and learned to drive.
I'm staring down the barrel of 40 and I feel strangely unsettled. No one ever mentions what it feels like to discover that you're not exactly young anymore.
After 35 "not by the hair on my chinny-chin-chin" is not quite so cute. Late nights have consequences for several days after ... the bounce back is not as quick. ABC radio is your station of choice, laughlines don't disappear when you stop laughing and the grey grows exponentially.
So, what to do? Accept getting older? Fight getting older? Or embrace a new stage of life?
Embrace! Take the opportunity to prepare for the next stage.
And in 39 steps, one for each year of my life so far.
1. Serve. In GFS for now, but taking any other opportunities that might come
2. Serve by opening our home to others and sharing with family and friends, and taking the opportunity to get to know others by sharing hospitality
3. Serve by teaching and training our children for service to others
4. Learn - study the Bible; write down the questions and seek answers; memorize, memorize, memorize.
5. Turn the tv off!!
6. Cleanse, tone, moisturise
7. Exercise (have already begun on this one)
8. Eight glasses of water
9. Buy clothes from the ordinary lady section of the store, not the fat lady section...that one is going to take a long time, but I really want to do it. I have a wardrobe and drawers full of clothes I can't fit into and I want to wear them again.
There they are in black and white; the first nine of my thirty nine steps to 40.
I'll update in a month on progress towards my goals.
Oh, and a little cheering from the sidelines wouldn't go astray ;)

Satisfying

The threatened Colossal Clutter Cleanup has begun!

It started with our bed packing it in after 12 years and being replaced with an ensemble.  I emptied the master bedroom of everything yesterday and began a major spring clean.  It was so hot I could hardly breathe even with the windows open and the fan on.  I worked and worked and worked.  It felt good.

I:

• washed down the walls
• took down the curtains
• cleaned the vertical blinds
• washed the skirting boards
• emptied the wardrobe and cleaned/vacuumed the inside
• threw out three pairs of shoes
• filled two big garbage bags with clothes for the op shop
• filled two cardboard boxes with "clutter"
• dusted and polished all the furniture
• washed the inside of the windows
• washed all the paintwork

and I did it on my own.

Today we have filled another two garbage bags with clothes for the op shop and I am currently employed in emptying the boxes of clutter and putting everything where it belongs.  It's been a huge job, but the bedroom looks better than it ever has.  I am weary, but it is a good weariness.

All our clothes, shoes and bags are sorted and it just looks so good.

Now to repeat the process in every room. 

I am tired, but satisfied.

On falling short

I am typing in the midst of a mess.  Piles of paper, empty jewel cases (the cd kind), a dvd spindle, about 148000 old business cards belonging to Mister Bear from his former job.

There's stuff on the floor, on the desk, on the window sill.

There's boxes of scrapping stuff not yet unpacked from the Girls Night In two weeks ago.

The dining room is not much better. We haven't done any dining in there for quite a while.

The sofa bed is piled with sheets and towels that have to be inspected before they can be folded and put away.  Chickabid had a huge play in the flooded poo pit last week (don't ask.  please, if you love me, don't ask) and some of the stuff on the line got fouled.  I am trying to screw up the courage to deal with it, but no success yet.

The lounge room is passable...so long as you ignore the filthy carpet overdue for a steam clean.  The bedrooms- over them we shall draw a veil.

The toy room is fine so long as the door stays shut.

I am a child of the King, but my life is so screwed and flawed how can His light possibly shine out.  I'm at the end of my ability to cope.  I'm writing over here about what's really going on, and where I think we're headed and why.  I am torn between this life which is commanding so much time and effort, and the life which is to come.  I guess the biggest encouragement is seeing for the first time that the "great ones" of the Bible weren't really all that great after all.  They were fallible, frail human beings just like me.  They made mistakes - huge ones some of them...Peter and Moses immediately spring to mind - but they didn't trust in themselves.  They put their trust in God.  They didn't try to be more than they were.  They certainly didn't hold themselves up as spiritual models "Look at how fabulously spiritual I am", rather they looked to Jesus - the author and finisher of their faith.  Now, going back and looking at their words and actions we can clearly see the light shining through.  But they themselves were oblivious to the light and were only aware of their shortcomings and how far short they fell.

My personal inclination is to throw in the towel and give up.  To stop even trying for that perfection, cos brother, it ain't gonna happen.  But then, some encouragement from Philippians.  We're studying Philippians on Tuesday nights at home group and this verse jumped out.  It's from Philippians chapter 1 and verse 6"...being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus."

I don't get to throw in the towel.  There is still work for me to do. 

I'll be honest.  I am frightened.  I am frightened not about the end, for I know that is secure.  I am frightened about what lies between now and the end.  The Unknown.  At this time in history we're a mirror of Noah's time.  Noah knew that time was running out and he knew that he had a God appointed job to do.  Then, as now, there were those who mocked and scoffed and chose not to believe.  Noah had the strength and the courage to keep going in spite of the unbelief around him.  He chose to put his faith in God.  The rest of the people considered him a bit of a loony.  That was until the first raindrops fell.  Then they were forced to believe, but it was too late.

There will be more about this line of thinking at the climate change blog, but for the moment I'll say this.

We are nearing the end.  To continue the Noah metaphor, the storm clouds are gathering.  Opinion varies as to what they mean.  Some think it will pass over.  Some think that the clouds are empty.  Some refuse to see the clouds at all.  Some blame the clouds on God, or on his people.  George W is probably blamed for the clouds in some quarters.

Oh, yes.  The storm clouds are there and when they break, all hell will also break loose.  Pun completely and utterly intended.  But on those same clouds will come the Saviour, ready to gather His own.  The clouds that brought destruction to the world in Noah's day meant salvation to those resting in the safety of the ark.  It's worth thinking about and pondering on.

And while we wait, I have some housework to do ;)

Layouts, Pyjama Days and Holidays

LAYOUTS

Have been working on a number of scrapbook layouts this past weekend.  Finished the Princess one for Ladybaby, made a PIRATE layout for a challenge at LSBS, started and finished Spatter Painting and am now working on Cubby House.  That's just about more layouts in one weekend than I have done all year.  Cubby House was inspired by a Becky Higgins sketch from her first book, but as so often happens, the results didnd't match up with what I had in my mind.  I played with it for about an hour last night cursing the fact that I've run out of Un-Du and in the end Mister Bear suggested that I simply walk away.

Now that I look at it again this morning I realise that it looks ok.  Pretty good actually.  A couple of fifteen minute slots today should see it finished and then I can move onto the next project.

HOLIDAYS

The kids start holidays on Monday, but I am seriously considering giving them an extra few days.  Ladybaby has a teasy cough, Chickabid has a nasty cut under his eye and a teasy cough and I am definitiely cooking something unpleasant.  My voice began to give out yesterday and as I don't have a sore throat this can't be good.  Today has already been declared a "pyjama day" and although we're not actually going to wear pyjamas, we're going to have a quiet day together. 

If we're being honest we're getting more and more disenchanted with the school system.  Chickabid came home a few weeks ago talking about the book they were reading in Crunch, Sip and Read time and whilst it was nothing truly objectionable, it wasn't a book that we would have chosen for our children.  Something that Mister Bear and I have realised over the last few years is that with kids it's very much a case of GIGO - Garbage In, Garbage Out.  Fill their minds with computer games, electronic media and garbage and garbage is pretty much all you'll get.  We want more than that for our kids.  We want to know what they're being taught.  We want to know what values are being instilled in the kids.  It's part (but not all) of the reason we've decided to homeschool.