fiveandtwo

Mouse Bus

All these little mice (been cut out for a while) got sewn up on Thursday.

Clare and Ally've been playing with them, this is the mouse bus.

Lovely to watch the small fry play, a pleasant interlude from teen wrangling. 

I was at home on Thursday supervising Leah's suspension from school.For truancy, last Friday with a bunch of "mates" and on Wednesday she took herself around to a year eleven boy's house for the day. It was in chasing up the students who were absent on Friday that it was discovered Leah wasn't at school on Wednesday. She had stayed overnight at a friend's house in a town not far away and was definitely dropped of at school that morning.

Our attempts to locate her mired us in a web of deceit. Leah claimed to still be where she slept over due to missing the bus in the morning...each friend she claimed to be with was accounted for at school...her friend's mum was going to drop her off, but wasn't there for us to speak to...denying saying anything about being kicked out of home and living with a foster family.

I later had much more revealed when, rightly or wrongly, I found her phone and went through the inbox/outbox messages. The frantic texting that went on as they all tried to align their stories and cover their backsides was sickening. The messages to and from the boy Leah was with disturbed me. It ain't good to be with someone who texts you saying, "Say my name and you're wrecked".

And then the message to one of her mates, "I've been f***ing kicked out of home, I'm with an f***ing foster family".That explains the school wanting to know if Leah still lived at home.

The Secondary College discovered that thirteen-year-old Leah was at a year eleven party in yet another hearby town on Saturday night, went nowhere near the friend's I thought she was sleeping over at (that lass was at a different party). I guess I've just assumed she'd do the right thing, took her word for it, and trusted her - been spoilt by Linsey and Giles.  To the school's credit, they've had a lengthy discussion with the boy about the "appropriateness" of a seventeen-year-old/thirteen-year-old relationship.

I now wonder whether Leah was where she said she was the times she texted me asking if it was ok to go to so-and-so's place after school, or to sleep over...

After she finally came home it was to pack some stuff because she was going to live at a friend's house. My husband took her down to a local family support agency (rather than DHS) to see if someone would talk to her more objectively than we could about how fostering actually works, that it doesn't mean you front up to a mate's place and move in. Leah learned that there were no places for teens in this town, therefore a foster placement would need to be found elsewhere in the state (that chills me). She stayed the night with an aunty after it was suggested it might grant her some thinking time to do so. We also got a referral to the LINX program operated here by the local community health service. This program endeavours to prevent family breakdown due to teenagers running away and the like. My sources say the adolescent/ family counsellor is very good.

I just feel I can't trust my girl any more. It's a horrible, horrible feeling. Worse than the stony silence, the glares, the curling lip.

I know she'll grow beyond all this. Sometimes I see glimpses of what I like to think is the real Leah. That lovely, sparkly girl that I adore. Keeps me going, it does. Keeps me trying. Keeps me hoping. I think it will sustain me these next several years. Heck, roll on the development of her frontal lobe!

Collections

Noticing a few collections around the traps lately got me thinking about what I collect.

A surprising number of things. Things in constant use that I've never considered collections would actually qualify.

Like linen tea towels.

Old beach towels.

Old bath towels.

These towels and tea towels, because they're used, get all raggy: wear out. So I'm always on the lookout for replacements.

Fairy stories, folk tales, myths and legends, nursery rhymes. I enjoy them all, in their myriad versions. Some of these were mine when a child, some I've bought for my kids, some given to them, lots from the op-shop.

Some things I buy sporadically, like the fairy tale books.

Old bottles, I have a collection of them that hasn't been added to for years.

When we did some renovating several years ago they got their own special shelf in the laundry. I had an "Angus" glue jar which I gave to a friend whose son is named Angus - how could I not!

Haven't come across any old scissors for a while.

Those tailor shears on the right are a family heirloom. Originally belonged to my mum-in-laws grandfather, who was a tailor,of course. They were passed to her when she began sewing from home for extra money. A superbly skilled dressmaker, I've learned much from her.

Those little blue-handled scissors toward the left: look closely - it's a rabbit!

Old keys.

Scissors and keys. Make what you will of that.

Wooden cotton reels. This collection gets added to from time to time. Well, they're not made anymore...

Continuing the sewing theme, old trims.

Oh, and the lace - old, modern. No synthetics allowed.

Bad photo, big shame.

How about buttons.

A mere portion of the button collection. This is a highly active one=actively seeking additions to the collection.

Baskets, those ones from the big basket making craze of 1955, or thereabouts. With the masonite or ply base, "cane" and some plastic-covered stuff. Called barsticks in this house. Toddler small fry's inability to pronounce basket.

The latest addition. A small one. Excellent to store the wool for a sudden interest in pom-pom making.

Can't explain my fascination with old maps, atlases and street directories. Collection added to sporadically. I'll use these. Circulating in my head are numerous ideas yet to achieve fruition.

The colours of these old maps are much more vibrant and distinct than the ones you can buy now.  I get all "arty" when I see them, but no artwork produced so far.

Happy collecting, people!

Yum

Summer's bounty.

To The City For A Day

Off we went on the train - husband, twins and I.

At the last minute I took A Life by Design by Siobhan O'Brien (biography of Florence Broadhurst) to read instead of the planned Katherine Mansfield, The Collected Stories. The former book was more compact.

I do wish I'd taken my first choice, though. Even with talking to small fry and husband the Florence Broadhurst book only lasted as far as Warragul on the way back (two hours to go - what a waste of reading time!). Fortunately I had the catalogue from the art exhibition we went to - the purpose of the day trip.

What was it? Modern Britain 1900 - 1960: Masterworks from Australian and New Zealand Collections.

It was all I hoped for. So many wonderful works. And my knowledge of all this art history stuff is so patchy. But now I have a smattering more.

John Bratby's Windows, Paul Nash's Sunflower and Sun, I admire the work of Augustus John, but I reckon he was a revolting man, Charles Holmes' Black Hill Moss, Winifred Knights' The Marriage at Cana - it was all so good.

Good, in spite of the whining , "Can we go now", small fry. Good, in spite of having some sort of "weak and shaky" low blood sugar attack (yes, I'd had a good breakfast, taken on the train with me: slices of already toasted ciabatta with hummous, and two nashis). These "attacks" have happened a couple of times a week ever since I can remember.

My paternal family history is rampant with type 2 diabetes. I have a fasting blood glucose test regularly. My brother, eighteen months older than me (he's 45) was diagnosed type two last year.

"Where are the pictures?", you say. Our small point-and-shoot digital camera has gone AWOL. I have suspicions of its whereabouts, but...must wait. Or perhaps it's been lost or stolen.The DSLR is too bulky to carry in a handbag, probably why it's still here. And will remain so, I don't allow the kids to take it places (too expensive to replace).

The Neighbourhood House art class hasn't started up for the year yet. I havn't lifted a brush or pencil since that class ending last year. I think, therefore, that I'm not a true artist. They're the ones who have  to make art in spite of everything else. Families and relationships are neglected.

Well, I ain't one of those. I think, perhaps, I'm a maker. I make stuff. My new title: Maker of Stuff. I like that. Long may it remain! Official forms: occupation - Maker of Stuff. I think I may have had a revelation. Goodness.

You may find pictures in my next post. I have been furiously reupholstering chairs.

To post without a picture is weird.

Hop Buds

After several days now of teen wrangling I feel, well, you know, jaded. It was a quiet pleasure to photograph the hop buds on the balcony this evening. Sometime soon must be a year of blogging for me. I remember taking photos of hop flowers and posting about it.

Within me is a completely horrible rant about a child of mine. Coffee with my best buddies (earlier this arvo), indicates fifteen or sixteen years is a time of change. My own experience bears this out.

I'd like to fast forward three years or so, but there's no opportunity, then, for her to come to grips with rubbing along with all sorts of people, accepting their shortcomings and strengths. Developing empathy would be very useful as well (sadly, not apparent as yet).

Strong desire to be somewhere else. Liklihood - nil. Equals, get on with it, I suppose!

Looking Down

Looking down from the balcony this morning I'm in awe at the lushness of the back garden.Height of summer is an extremely fecund time.

If I look up, that's quite different.

The Vegie garden is doing well.

No, it's not a good idea to have a tree planted in your vegie garden. However, the tree was there first. It's a European plum - Coe's Golden Drop.

Moving the barrels about created an impromptu vegetable garden. The spot is actually quite good. Morning and midday sun but shaded from the fierce afternoon sun. I think I'll make a permanent spot.

Clare's corn. Space restrictions mean I don't usually plant corn nowadays. Sweetcorn is grown commercially around here, it's fresh and tastes sensational, so I don't bother.  But Clare really wanted to plant corn, so, a spot was found. She is so proud of it.

Interplanted with lettuce and accompanied by a self-sown tomato!

Another thing, twice I've been nominated for for the You Make My Day award. I'm really honoured, but feel all funny about whom I'm going to bestow the awards.

The instructions to this award say you must give the award to 10 people whose blogs bring you happiness and inspiration, and make you feel happy about blogland.

Well, may I refer you to the blogroll on my sidebar. More than ten I think, but all qualify. How am I to choose?

Good Company And Crafting

Linsey, the small fry and I stayed with a good buddy at St Andrews last weekend.

Linsey had her first experience of city driving and did really well. It's not easy for a novice to keep an eye on traffic both sides of the car, in front and behind as well as things like traffic lights, road signs and so forth. I don't think I stressed too much, although I do remember saying, "Brakes!", rather loudly once or twice.

I made sure our visit to St Andrews included a Saturday. Can't miss the excellent market held there, no way.

Following a lengthy browse at St Andrews market we took ourselves to Fitzroy for a look at the Rose Street Artist Market. Such talent, such beautiful goodies. My husband rang while I was there (computer glitch at work) and I crowed about how I was surrounded by wondrous things and hadn't spent a cent. Well, in the next five minutes a bought an etching of a magpie by Bridget Farmer! Heh, that'll teach me.

My buddy is keen to bring the fiveandtwo the business out of recess, so we had coffee and crafted, sipped wine and crafted and just plain crafted. The perfect activity for a good catch-up. I swotted on the sewing machine the day before leaving, nothing like leaving it until the last minute. But I then had a pile of things to finish with hand sewing and stuff, plenty to work on for sure.

Behold, finished items:

The felt pups are from ages ago, the dachshund just needed some buddies for the photo opportunity.

I was trying out patterns from this book:

These in particular:

Apples galore. Quick to make with a sewing machine. Sew, stuff, sew up the stuffing hole. Done. The stalk is leather thonging which, fortuitously, I found many metres of at the op shop only the week before! The stalk I sewed in with the last seam. Easy.

From this book:

Minus the beads in this (not very good) photo.

A pair of hedgehogs (echidas?):

From this book:

Horses from fabric. I don't think they "work" - poor choice of fabric perhaps. The felt ones are better, I reckon.

And, finally, this fellow, who's yet to have eyes and nose. Already claimed by Linsey. Very happy with him. Made from scraps of linen and some really soft wool bought from that recent bountiful garage sale.

And this is the book the pattern's from:

More are cut out, including one of these "sleepy" ones. Sleeping in its own bag. Very cute.

One more page from the book:

Hmmm, perhaps you've noticed my current penchant for Japanese craft books? Bounty of last year's Family Tax Credit. What use are they if you don't craft from them. These little projects are mighty good for using up scraps of fabric. You know, those tiny pieces of wonderful stuff that you can't bear to toss.

One panel of an apple (or pear) uses a miniscule amount of fabric. Also the dachshund and the car. More for the mousey-doggy animals.

An extremely productive weekend. It's definitely easier to be productive not being surrounded by all that household stuff that needs attention!