Showing posts from March, 2015

Childish Voices

1. A few weekends ago The Most Adorable Granddaughter#5, aged two and a half, asked me to read her a book. Not just any book but a big book written in te reo Māori. Now, this is usually her sister's trick (embarrass Nana who should be able to read in te reo since she is an early childhood teacher in a bicultural country) but I suspect there was no guile involved when she brought the book to me. Painstakingly I sounded out the words (there were lots) and eventually managed to read the whole story.

As soon as I had finished The Most Adorable Granddaughter#5 took the book from my hands and took it to her mother. "Read it, mummy. Nana can't read," and she glared at me as if to ask, "Call yourself a teacher? You deserve to lose your registration!"

We laughed but a few minutes later (after her Mummy had fluently read the book without having to sound out any words) I thought I would get my own back at DH who had laughed loudly and so I suggested to The Most Adorab…

Look Who I Got To Babysit Today!

Aren't you envious???

An Honest Morning's Work

Well perhaps. I did cheat a little. And if my High School maths teacher could have seen the mess I made of taking my own measurements, he would have failed me on the spot.

I'm not sure what it is that goes wrong when I try to take my own measurements. Perhaps it's horror at the number that makes me read it differently, although in this case, the measurement ended up being way too high so I don't see how that can be the case. Perhaps I perceive myself as being bigger than I actually am (I wish this was true but I doubt it) and so see the number as being higher than it really is. Whatever it is, I ended up with a skirt that had to be made smaller.

I love the sound of that - so much so that I'm going to repeat myself:

I had to make the skirt smaller. Smaller.

It all started when I had the (crazy) idea of turning a dress into a skirt. There was nothing wrong with the dress - in fact it was a nice linen and cool to wear - but it made me look like the back of a bus. Proof:


A Shameful Confession

I have a confession to make. A rather shameful one as it turns out. Are you ready for it?

I can't quick piece QSTs (Quarter Square Triangles).

Did you get that?

I CAN'T quick piece QSTs.

Shameful, especially for one whose blog profile says that said blogger is a quilter.

I mean, I can sew them. But they never turn out the correct size.

I get the maths and everything. I mean it's not that hard and I did do maths at Uni. I can work all that out okay.

And I get that 1/8" out in the cutting and then 1/8" out in the sewing multiplied by the number of seams to be sewn can add up to a big difference so I try REALLY HARD for precision in both cutting and piecing. I even used imperial rulers (my second language having been brought up on metric) and my 1/4" foot on my sewing machine, but I still can't get my QST's to end up the same size.

Case in point:

I'm not sure if my HSTs (Half Square Triangles) are any better. Since there's less sewing, there'…

No Wrecks Here

I recently introduced DIL#1 to a site that shows photos of cake wrecks of the I'm-so-glad-it-didn't-happen-to-me variety.

So when she turned up with the cake for Son#5's twenty-first birthday party she commented that she hoped it wouldn't end up on said site.

Not likely. This cake was so impressive that everyone wanted to take photos.

And no one wanted to be the one to cut it.

Son#5, while reluctant at first to have a party, seemed to enjoy himself even if it was only because he got to meet The Most Adorable Granddaughter#6.

And while there were a few spills, and The Most Adorable Granddaughter#5 almost got to the cake before anyone else (and then promptly stuck her finger into the cheesecake), and it rained heavily (with accompanying thunder and lightening), I can honesty say that there were no wrecks of any kind tonight.

Not Impressed

It's raining.

Given the condition of our lawn and gardens, you could be forgiven for thinking that this fills me with joy.


All morning at work I watched as the clouds darkened and hoped that I would get home in time to get a line-ful of washing in. I even did the right thing: waited for someone to get back from lunch before leaving, did all my paperwork, and didn't drive dangerously when the cars in front decided to go ever so slowly (why is that always the case?), which all meant that I arrived home a full five minutes after it started to team with rain.
I am not impressed.

And all I can do is write "I AM NOT IMPRESSED" in big letters on our blackboard and moan on my blog.

Because this weekend we have Son#5's twenty-first birthday party and a line-ful of wet soggy washing doesn't exactly fit with the celebratory theme. I'm not even concerned about trying to clean the house with the rain pouring down or the fact that if I do manage to clean my fl…