DANG. I went to the post office to ship my little pillowcases yesterday. Put them into an envelope, put that into the express international mail envelope, filled out the waybill and customs forms and customs form and more customs forms. Taped it all together. Brought it to the front. It was weighed. And then I was told it would be...(wait for it)...F O R T Y - N I N E D O L L A R S.
Do you KNOW how many cappuccinos that would buy at university? A LOT, that's how many. $49. Wow. If I wasn't a starving student who was expecting to shell out another $800 in textbooks next month, I could *possibly* swing that. But as it stands now, no.
I explained that I didn't want the package to have its own seat on the plane, I just wanted it stowed with the other undeserving packages in the hold below. NO sense of humour, that postmistress.
So my dreams of fame by association with pillowcases is no more.
Sadness.
Ah well.
Maybe someone will call for submissions of tablecloths (plenty of THOSE around here, baby!) and allow more than three days to get entries in so I could send it in regular cheap mail.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
I beaded this. Now what?
So here is a little something that I made just to see how an image that I got from the freebies over at Dover Publications that are regularly emailed to me translate to beads and fabric. Sorry about the murky lighting - winter has hit and sucked all the light out of the atmosphere. The color of the fabric is a brighter blue, the white is whiter, and the pinks should be pinkier.
So...I've made it...now what do I do with it?
I have so many of these little swatches of fabric with bead embellishments that I did just for grins. They just kind of hang around, mocking me. What can I do with these kinds of things? Ideas? Anyone? Anyone?
*cricket chirps echoing*
I will photograph and post those other ones later, when the light comes back to Adelaide.
Mkay.
More later.
So...I've made it...now what do I do with it?
I have so many of these little swatches of fabric with bead embellishments that I did just for grins. They just kind of hang around, mocking me. What can I do with these kinds of things? Ideas? Anyone? Anyone?
*cricket chirps echoing*
I will photograph and post those other ones later, when the light comes back to Adelaide.
Mkay.
More later.
The Pillowcase Challenge.
I read about The Pillowcase Challenge this afternoon on http://whipup.net/, submitted photos in the evening, and it is now...erm...1:26 am, and I have had emails back and forth with the assistant editor and she said they all liked my pillowcases and that they want me to send them...to the US! Squee! That doesn't necessarily mean they'll be included in the book...but wow! All those years of thrifting to train my eye to spot kwality pillowcases has paid off.
What's that? You want to...see...these pillowcases?
Well...okay.
My floral atomic pillowcase. Floral. Atomic. Yes. I know. The COOLEST.
My Bambi pillow. First time I saw this, it looked like the Bambi was farting a noxious green cloud. I didn't think that I had seen *that* particular pattern on Sublime Stitching so I took another look. Heh. Shrubs. Oops.
Applique flowers with embroidery. A classic.
Baaaaaaby kitten! The flower...and the earnest expression...and the flower...this one is really poignant somehow.
So anyway - just thought I'd share. I am ALL excited about it, but will try to keep it in check until I hear more from t hem when they get the pillowcases. WHEE!
What's that? You want to...see...these pillowcases?
Well...okay.
My floral atomic pillowcase. Floral. Atomic. Yes. I know. The COOLEST.
My Bambi pillow. First time I saw this, it looked like the Bambi was farting a noxious green cloud. I didn't think that I had seen *that* particular pattern on Sublime Stitching so I took another look. Heh. Shrubs. Oops.
Applique flowers with embroidery. A classic.
Baaaaaaby kitten! The flower...and the earnest expression...and the flower...this one is really poignant somehow.
So anyway - just thought I'd share. I am ALL excited about it, but will try to keep it in check until I hear more from t hem when they get the pillowcases. WHEE!
Monday, May 19, 2008
Procrastination.
I has it.
I have two papers due this week (1000-word and 2500-agh-words), and yet I am watching reruns of Grey's Anatomy on my Mac. I am surrounded by textbooks on pediatric nursing and do have lots of windows open on the mac with articles on prevalence of amphetamine use in them - not that I am actually using them or anything...perhaps that gets me some points in the overall scheme of things anyways. Hmm...
Or not.
I do this every time. EVERY. TIME. Stress and freak out and stress and worry and stress (and that's all - no actual writing or anything) for weeks (WEEKS!) and then put together a paper (that should be five days of solid work) in the two days before it is due.
The bad thing is that when I do this, I tend to get good grades. Agh. It's a bad system to have, but it seems to be the one I know and use. Perhaps it's that my focus finally crystallizes in those days of cramming before the paper is actually due.
Sigh.
And here I am updating my blog while NOT writing my papers.
Sigh again.
I will be posting some arty crafty things soon. AFTER I hand in those stupid papers. I have a couple of bead-embellished bits of fabric and a couple of bits o' jewelry. Soon. Sooooooon.
Alrighty. Smooches for now.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Writing a eulogy...
...for someone who is dead but still walking around.
The sad thing is that show knows it. She could physically stop it by putting a spoon of shepherd's pie on a fork, putting it in her mouth, chewing it, swallowing it and keeping it down. Yet mentally and emotionally (are these two separate things? I don't know) she can't.
She weighs 23 kilos. Twenty. Three. Kilos. For those less-metrically inclined, that would be a couple of handfuls of potato chips more than 50 pounds. To look at her, you would think it is actually less than that, but the woolly jumpers all year round make it hard to tell.
This is the least she has weighed in many, many years. For over half her life, she has been around this weight, if not a little more. She is a wonderful person, caring, funny, super-smart, has a university degree, and can analytically tell you what is happening to her body, run through the various systems that have gone haywire or have shut down, and can tell you exactly and almost dispassionately what will happen if she should catch a stomach bug. When she is travelling. In South America. Christ.
She leaves next week, and I think she was saying goodbye when we met up for coffee last week. Not, "see you when I get back", but goodbye.
While she talked about her hopes that maybe something in this trip, some spiritual thunderbolt, some small voice of epiphany, something, will turn it all around for her, I tried to be what I thought was encouraging. A person has to have hope, no matter for what or how misguided it may seem to others. But I also had to make sure that she knew that she didn't have to go, that I had hope, too. I had hope right here, with the clean running water and thick mattress underlays and phones and medical help. She doesn't have to leave to get it. I have hope right here. I wish she could see that. Maybe one day she will. Maybe, if she survives this trip, she will see it and let me give her some of my hope, some of my calm, some of the peace in my mind. Not that there's a lot, but still... Maybe she will realise that I don't see her as my friend who I wish would be different and better, but that I see her as my friend. She is my friend for what she is, and I am not waiting for what she could be or should be. I just am. For her. Now.
The funny thing is that she and I are so similar - we are both waiting for a change that will make life better. When X happens, it will all be good. For me, it's that I am carrying around too much weight and am almost done with my studies but in the meantime have no money or place of my very own, and it gets me down. But I can see it and deal with it in what could be termed a reasonable fashion. And I am not imprisoned by it. I am looking forward to it, not dying to get there.
I was so sad when I got home from seeing her for what I believe (and what I think she believes) was the last time, that I started writing her eulogy. I'm pretty sure that I will be asked to say a few words. At her funeral. Jesus. And I will not be able to write it then. It will be too much. You would think that I have had years and years to prepare for it, so her death might not hit so hard. No. It will hit hard. My friend will be dead, and I will be sad that I didn't...couldn't stop it. I will be sad that my friendship wasn't enough for her.
The sad thing is that show knows it. She could physically stop it by putting a spoon of shepherd's pie on a fork, putting it in her mouth, chewing it, swallowing it and keeping it down. Yet mentally and emotionally (are these two separate things? I don't know) she can't.
She weighs 23 kilos. Twenty. Three. Kilos. For those less-metrically inclined, that would be a couple of handfuls of potato chips more than 50 pounds. To look at her, you would think it is actually less than that, but the woolly jumpers all year round make it hard to tell.
This is the least she has weighed in many, many years. For over half her life, she has been around this weight, if not a little more. She is a wonderful person, caring, funny, super-smart, has a university degree, and can analytically tell you what is happening to her body, run through the various systems that have gone haywire or have shut down, and can tell you exactly and almost dispassionately what will happen if she should catch a stomach bug. When she is travelling. In South America. Christ.
She leaves next week, and I think she was saying goodbye when we met up for coffee last week. Not, "see you when I get back", but goodbye.
While she talked about her hopes that maybe something in this trip, some spiritual thunderbolt, some small voice of epiphany, something, will turn it all around for her, I tried to be what I thought was encouraging. A person has to have hope, no matter for what or how misguided it may seem to others. But I also had to make sure that she knew that she didn't have to go, that I had hope, too. I had hope right here, with the clean running water and thick mattress underlays and phones and medical help. She doesn't have to leave to get it. I have hope right here. I wish she could see that. Maybe one day she will. Maybe, if she survives this trip, she will see it and let me give her some of my hope, some of my calm, some of the peace in my mind. Not that there's a lot, but still... Maybe she will realise that I don't see her as my friend who I wish would be different and better, but that I see her as my friend. She is my friend for what she is, and I am not waiting for what she could be or should be. I just am. For her. Now.
The funny thing is that she and I are so similar - we are both waiting for a change that will make life better. When X happens, it will all be good. For me, it's that I am carrying around too much weight and am almost done with my studies but in the meantime have no money or place of my very own, and it gets me down. But I can see it and deal with it in what could be termed a reasonable fashion. And I am not imprisoned by it. I am looking forward to it, not dying to get there.
I was so sad when I got home from seeing her for what I believe (and what I think she believes) was the last time, that I started writing her eulogy. I'm pretty sure that I will be asked to say a few words. At her funeral. Jesus. And I will not be able to write it then. It will be too much. You would think that I have had years and years to prepare for it, so her death might not hit so hard. No. It will hit hard. My friend will be dead, and I will be sad that I didn't...couldn't stop it. I will be sad that my friendship wasn't enough for her.
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