Sketchy in places

My brain is still a little fried from the exhausting crazy pace of the Quilt and Craft show.

I was lucky to share the space with some great neighbours, Melly and Me, Sew well Maide, Amy Kallissa and the Crafty Squirrel.

My favourite booth by far was the Maze and Vale booth. I am lucky enough to be sewjourn friends with the lovely Leslie, and more than a bit envious of her great design talent. We were all located together in a little section especially for first-time exhibitors, and it was great to have friends around to stage a lunch intervention when things got hairy.

I know this is a pretty average round up of such a HUGE event . Loads of people came and say Hi and I apologise if it was all a bit too frenzied for a chat. It was in fact one extremely long set-up day folowed by four days of aching feet, too much sugar and swarms of people. I talked a blue streak and learnt a few things along the way.

( I also screamed blue murder when the toilet paper dispenser fell off the wall into my lap, freaking out not only myself but everyone within earshot)

I won a plaque for "best small exhibit" from some dude who congratulated me, posed for a photo and walked off without ever introducing himself. (I call him plaque man).

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Indeed it is...

A woman and I were chatting on the booth yesterday.

"I was wondering, could you tell me are those (pointing to the felt signs) placemats or coasters?"

"Those are some signs I made to let people know I use social media"

"You mean The Google?"

"Yes"

"Oh, your'e on the google?"

"Yes"

"Isn't it wonderful ?"

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Before 9 in the rain

The hot water tap in the shower was feeling poorly.

It was set to drip for the entire day.

The woman firmly edged it toward the OFF position.

Overworked, the tap exploded upon the already-dressed-for-work woman.

The woman tried to stem the steaming scalding flow.

The water would not be stopped.

The hot water service hiding behind the dodgy wire fence was imposing.

The gas line ? The release valve? The pressure doohickey?

The woman found and read the manual.

The manual did not help.

The woman unsuccessfully rang a plumber.

The woman googled.

The woman swore. (Again)

The woman couldn't find the water mains.

The woman dug in the undergrowth of the front yard

The bathroom grew increasingly sauna-like

The woman rang the water board.

The bathroom was flooded.

Unearthed from the winter garden bed, the water main was impossible to budge.

Another plumber was called.

The woman's voice may have been shrill.

Under instruction the still-drenched woman turned off the hot water service.

The woman was awesome- the problem was solved !

The woman cleaned up the mess.

As instructed, the woman tried one-more-time to turn off the mains.

The stick, saw the woman coming, watched her bend, lined her up and poked her right in the eye.

The woman will be having an early night.

 

 

 

 

 

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loose ends

I have been busy, getting things ready for the Craft and Quilt fair in about 10 days time. At this point I am about as done as done can be, and nothing else will get added to the to-do list. 

Darla & Bean will make their debut at the show and are quietly nervous about the whole event.

The show is the starting point of craziness for me with a visit to Tassie to teach at Frangipani fabrics followed by two days teaching at Quilters Harvest in Warracknabeal (all before school goes back). It will be a crazy two weeks ! 

In contrast my sewing room is an oasis of calm - it had to be cleaned  in readiness for a newspaper interview (and subsequent painful photo shoot). Connor was a little incredulous at the idea that the paper wanted to interview me and suggested the headline : "Middle aged woman does craft"

and indeed the middle aged woman does do craft.

Darla & Bean

It might just be a collection of felt and stuffing, but you know, put together in a certain way, it becomes Darla & Bean

and it makes me ridiculously dance-in-the-kitchen happy.

(caution: nudity ahead)

It got away from me

but it's close 

The teeniest tweaks are getting twuck and the sweetest of breaths are being held.