Rummage

Step 1:
(around 11ishpm)
Freak-out and give myself a stern reprimand for forgetting the dress-up carnivale at school the following day.
Step 2:
Pour myself a glass of cheap and old red wine because there is no tequila to be had in the house.
Step 3:
Investigate the contents of my sewing room for likely contenders for the The Last Minute Sew-Off.
Step 4:
Decide to go and do a bit of aimless blog-reading as am still in a state of denial and besides I'm sure that there is a piece of old cooking chocolate in the back of the fridge that I can snack on to get myself in the right frame of mind for sewing.
Step 5:
Smallest person in the house decides that sleep is no longer a viable option.
Step 6:
Child is offered both bottles and bosoms to no avail.
Step 7:
Plonk child in the midst of a pile of ribbons in the sewing room and continue fabric investigation.
Step 8:
Eureka! Discover a piece of tangerine satin dress-lining and some ribbon from the now hopelessly entangled pile.
Step 9:
Sew a straight line (my forte), close to the selvedge and then gather it in.
Step 10:
Bung a ribbon over the gathers and sew again.
Step 11:
Sew up the back of the skirt half way.
Step 12:
Hack the bottom of the fabric off to a five year old's height.
Step 13:
Pass out quietly beside the small person and the entire contents of my haberdashery drawer.
Step 14:
Zzzzzz!

   

If you are reading this and are a single parent, (and I know at least one of you is), I'd like you to go and pour yourself a big glass of wine preferably whilst someone is massaging your feet and plying you with chocolate.
Sure, I hear you say, if it wasn't for the acres of washing up, laundry and general cleaning chores, love to. For the briefest of occasions, I am feeling your pain, you see the Frenchman is off gallivanting in Sydney leaving me here at the coalface with the small people. I've thus far made a phone call to a poisons emergency hotline and had to pop myself in the naughty corner for a heated discussion with my eldest. Standard stuff for any parent? Perhaps, but when it is you, alone, on call, twenty-four seven - absolutely, bloody exhausting. Here's to you, single-mums! Ladies, I salute you.

Have you seen my press? I was tickled no end to be asked but I had to repress a snort when I saw that my title was "artist". Erin, you are kindness itself, but an artist, I am not.

The photos I've posted are completely unrelated as usual. Dad and the Frenchman made the bookshelf, it's hard to see but it is a nifty little design which can be completely dismantled and reused when we finally buy a house.

xx Hope there's a spring in your step.