Elementary, my dear Travis

I think I could get used to only working 3 days a week, the whole 4 day week thing is getting old. How long is it till the next long weekend?

I'm watching the first episode of Elementary, the newest and much-promoted Americanised Sherlock Holmes.  I don't believe that my Sunday nights will continue to be devoted to it.  So far it's cheesy, tedious, and unoriginal.  The transformation of Watson into Lucy Liu is such a stretch I'm waiting for the snap...ping [ricochet, ricochet] as the suspension of disbelief caves and crumbles under ridiculous stress.  I'm a televisual optimist but even I can't commit to this one. I would have channel skipped by now but I'm busy typing. Rating: an hour of my life I'll never get back.

my first crop of potatoes - yum!

The hound and I had a quiet and uneventful weekend, working on a few projects, pottering about. My new old Travis McGee books arrived (finally) and so I've been travelling back and forwards to Florida in the early 70's during tea breaks. I think there are only 2 or three books in the series I haven't tracked down yet but I suspect I'll be on the hunt for those next week.
The link even has a collection of quotes and recipes for drinks and food. 

I demolished the telescope tripod (just me and a can of CRC, pliers, a vice, a hammer and a hacksaw) and rubbed back the wooden bits and re-polished them without the ghastly cheap varnish.  I'm currently contemplating whether to replace the (hacksawed) bolts with brass or steel, and leaning towards steel.  It will end up as an industrial-style lamp, I have the other lamp bits stashed somewhere.

I took the top off the wooden stool from a week or so ago, rubbed it all back and refinished it in readiness for a new (not broken and warped) top.  I'm contemplating the size and type of the top. I think it should also do double service as a table, so slightly larger, methinks.  There are a couple of options in the wings, some from an old lazy susan.  

I finished a little mixed media project to match one I made last year.  These frames are hard to come by but they turn up every now and then. They look as thought they were handmade.

I also made a wire ball.(Because I could, OK?) I used a roll of rusty wire I've had for ages, and I really like the way it's come out.  I ended up covered head to foot (literally) in rust but seem to have avoided tetanus, so that's a win.

I broke 3 fingernails, stained my fingers, glued, sanded, oiled. I finished the usual gazillion baskets of washing. I read 2 books. I spent far too much time on Pinterest.  All in all, a good weekend.




I forgot this one last weekend, I love it, 40's plaster model, won at a rural show.  I know it's a bit on the worn side but still magnificent.

the lazy, the women and the wardrobe

o Happy four day weekend, how I love you.

Nice weather on the home front....

Good friends, champagne, fresh local oysters, mussels and local salmon.  You could almost taste the serenity.

We were (as usual) tip trawling on Friday afternoon, when we came across a lovely antique wardrobe (which caused my companion to drool) and a mid-century display cabinet, which caused me to lose all reason. I HAVE NO ROOM IN MY HOUSE FOR MORE FURNITURE.

Naturally, we bought them instantaneously. She who hesitates, misses out.  Of course, they won't fit in the vehicle at the same time. I stay with the purchases, friend scoots home to get the trailer.  Extremely large and heavy wardrobe fits into trailer with 5cm clearance.  At this stage we'd just like to thank all the gormless blokes who stood around or sat in their vehicles texting - no doubt complaining how we were slowing them down in their quest to buy grog for Australia Day.  Especially the ex-local Councillor and his young mate, for whom helping your fellow person is apparently only a church guideline. 

We also wrassled the heavy mirrored and glassed cabinet into the vehicle without assistance.  We knew we could do it, but it simply would have been easier and quicker with another pair of hands. 

My friend is very happy with her wardrobe, and my display cabinet is in situ and intact, which is more than you could say of my opinion of the Australian spirit and 21st century manners.

At a tip in a nearby municipality, however, there is no shortage of helping hands and community spirit.  My uncle, in the dark recesses of the dawn of time (last century) was possessed of a rocking chair which even in the 60's was considered antique.  When they moved into a new residence it, with other fabulous stuff, was dumped.  Even as a child I begged my father not to do it, but he said it was old and I couldn't possibly want it.  He was so very wrong.

(Come to think of it, this may have started me on a certain path.)

I saw one at a garage sale about 4 years ago, they wanted an inordinate amount of cash for it and I had to let it go.  Today, I got one.  It's a bit ratty but structurally sound. I can rebuild it, I have the technology - sandpaper, hard work, etc etc.  I also got a wooden tripod thingy which will make an excellent lamp, and assorted other bits and pieces. And yes, someone offered me assistance to load it into the car without being asked, with a smile. 

It's called good manners.

I took my out of town friends to Willyung Antiques for a bit of a prowl on Saturday, and it's well worth the (short) trip.  Lovely spot, fantastic stock, proper cup of tea with a scone, served by a helpful and genial host. I loved that he knew the stories of the items he was selling and so obviously was interested in them.  My friend bought a lovely old bathroom/first aid cabinet and my grip had to be prised from some oregon pine pigeonholes.  

I thought I might reclaim a certain blackwood sideboard currently stashed elsewhere - pigeonholes for the placement of - but when I got home I realised I have a nice oregon chest of drawers here which would be enhanced by said accoutrement.

I told you I have too much furniture. I may need another scone next weekend, who can say.  

a long goodbye to the busted flush....

Having spent another torrid week with Phillip Marlowe, I've found time for a few little jobs.  The temptation to sit on the shady veranda and read was awfully strong.







I looked after this:

(although she ate my favourite and most comfortable pair of Camper shoes.  She was very sorry but unable to stop herself, apparently.)







I did some work on this:

And was quite pleased with the outcome so far. 












 I also got this:

cleaned up and inside (where there is just NO room for it!).  Still some work to be done but on the upside you can get to the back door now.  Casters?  Legs?  Hmmmm....

I only went to 2 garage sales yesterday, one was a farm clearance (and you know how I do love those!).  We got quite a lot, really - so much the guy who helped to carry it to the car didn't think it would fit.  It was a very small car.  Some neat packing and we made it home safely and even with room to spare.

Amongst the treasures:  boxes, boxes, boxes

and this:

which is now this:












and this (well, it will be soon.  Are you thinking what I'm thinking?)

I also now have enough ginormous bolts for several interesting rustic hat/coat/key racks.




The second one was a friend's and also proffered treasure, however the excitement was such that I seem to have forgotten to take some happy snaps.  I'll try to do it this week.

I'm nearly out of Phillip Marlowe, but I understand that a bunch of Travis McGee novels are winging their way towards me.  Just in time, really.

Eyes like strange sins

To all those women who walked into those sheds on Saturday morning and said, in a disappointed voice, 'oh, it's all men's stuff' I say : pfffft.  Oh happy days, sheds full of old, rusty, grimy boxes of stuff.  I was down to a couple of skiploads of the stuff, so I was more than happy to top up the supplies.

As a side product, I have one container of airbrush bits, and a box of car bits like new fuel filters, spark plugs, and so on.  Maybe I can swap them for something interesting, since I have neither vehicle nor airbrush.

Yesterday, friends delivered an Albany Advertiser (newspaper) from Thursday November the 8th, 1934.  Fear not, they are not the world's slowest paper persons ( for paperboy would be both politically dubious and 50% gender-incorrect) but had found it when pulling up the lino in their lovely old house.  Today, a very nice lady brought me forty - forty! - that's four zero - maritime charts.  Primarily Western Australian coast, with Northern Territory ones as a bonus.  I barely know where to start. 'Thank you' doesn't even start  to cover it.

As it happens, I've been spending the weekend with Raymond Chandler.  There's a lot of terminology which would probably be seen as politically incorrect now, but as a lyrical description of the time (in this case, 1943)  it holds it's own.


"A check girl in peach-bloom Chinese pajamas came over to take my hat and disapprove of my clothes.  She had eyes like strange sins."

"From thirty feet away she looked like a lot of class. From ten feet away she looked like something made up to be seen from thirty feet away."

Pure gold.

Pinterest, ideas and addiction

I have a confession to make.

I was googling about the interweb, as one does, and I weakened and had a good long look around on Pinterest.  Oops.  Now I'm addicted. (I institutionalise easily.  Who knew?) 

So now I have boards to which I can pin all sorts of interesting things, and other people can look at them, and I've been sort of surprised that others have similar interests and tastes and like or re-pin my pins.  And I can look at other people's stuff too. I can highly recommend it as a way to find and exchange cool new ideas, and avoid doing housework.

I was explaining this to a non-Pinterest friend, which led us to a really interesting discussion about creativity as we hurtled about the burg looking for garage sales and tip shop bargains in this week's hideous heat and humidity.

People say to me that I'm really creative, but I think mine is just a visual creativity, in that I make things which people can see.  I think that others are just as creative, but express it in different ways, and don't give themselves the credit they deserve.  There's creativity in making a home, whether it's minimalist or eclective, like mine.  There's certainly creativity in raising children, cooking, and gardening, let alone doing all that and working 9-5 at the same time. Clever people are creative in whatever work they do, because of the way they approach it. If you let yourself accept that whatever you're doing is in it's own way creative, because you're expressing yourself, you can perhaps look at yourself differently and give yourself the credit you deserve.

If you aren't being creative on some level, then you're just going through the motions of living.

That's not to say that creating isn't difficult. Art is hard.  I spend lots of time (and I do mean LOTS) looking, researching, planning, and recording ideas, themes, thoughts, and inklings.  

Brainpickings (a truly excellent source of interesting things)quoted artist Chuck Close: "Inspiration is for amateurs — the rest of us just show up and get to work.”   


Maybe some people think that ideas show up fully formed, and because they wait for that to happen, they don't start?  If you wait for something to inspire you, you'll just keep waiting. Go out and inspire yourself.  Look, experience, experiment, feel, touch, think. Write. Work out how it's done. Find things that make you smile.

My fave quote is from Einstein:  "Creativity is the residue of time wasted."  Certainly, for me, the time I 'waste' looking around, reading, combing through other peoples' junk, informs what I do when I try to make or draw something.  I keep scrapbooks and photos and notebooks (and now virtual pinboards) as memory joggers, planners, idea generators - I suppose I immerse myself fairly constantly in the 'creative process'.   Someone asked me what an item was when I bought it at the tip shop.  My response was that I didn't know - I didn't - but I could see what it was going to be.  I said it without really thinking but having said it I thought some more about it. Sometimes I pick things up because I have a plan.  Sometimes, the plan comes later, but it's informed by something I have. Sometimes, I knock things over and they fall in a way I could never have planned.

Which is why I love my books - and magazines and bits of paper and ribbon and string and fishing lures and all the other stuff that I have about me.  The colours in a magazine's photo shoot can be the inspiration for something completely unrelated to fashion or travel. Stuff is stuck on the fridge (no, not the dust)because it's an interesting shape or there's something interesting in the colour or the composition.  I would die in a minimalist environment, I'm a visual person.

So much as I'm loving Pinterest, I'm not giving up on my visual diaries, corkboards, and things affixed with clothes pegs to other things about me. The Pinterest stuff is accessible and tidy, and very very neat, but I need my stuff about me so that I can waste time being residually creative.

Sunburn and serenity

The relentlessly sunny and warm weather continues. It could be described as pleasant beachgoing weather and the front veranda has been getting a proper workout. The chink of champagne flutes was heard.  The term 'clement' springs to mind. Ah, the serenity.

Yesterday, on one of our extended scavenges, I managed to get my nose sunburned - I was focussed on the 100 year old glazed oregon windows we'd found, apparently, and not on staying out of the sun. It was one of those cases where you had to sit on the things to stop other people grabbing them, even after they were paid for.

Luckily, I have hoarded some of the best anti-burn ointment ever, and by today, no remnant of red.  What is this magic cream, you ask?  I'd tell you but then I'd have to kill you.  It's been removed from sale for a couple of years now, but I made sure I kept a small stash.  When my son fell against the pot-belly stove at 3, I put it on his hand, no scar remains.  When my friend's son accidentally walked on some hot coals as a toddler, she put it on his feet, no trace of scarring.  When a teenager was badly sunburned - (Don't forget your sunblock - yes, Mum - riiiight )  I used it to almost instantaneously take away pain and redness and it worked. (I should point out that this was not just one tube of the stuff but many over many years, and that I did let them suffer with the sunburn for a wee while first, to remind them that I'm always right.)  

I don't know why it was removed from sale but I do know I don't have very much left and it's carefully stashed, because the stuff on sale now simply doesn't work nearly as well.  Perhaps it's like some glue I saw, which says on the pack that 'residents of California are warned that this product may cause cancer'.  Luckily, I don't live in California. And my nose won't peel.

And the Oregon windows?  We're thinking cabinet doors and picture frames.  In case you were wondering.

I suppose I should thank those who gave and were given electronic readers for Christmas, as there has been a solid flow of good secondhand books to gather.  I've tried to intersperse the shallower but gripping crime fiction with some mind-improving fare and have ranged from Krakatoa to LA to London just this week.  All grist for the front veranda and I've enjoyed my Christmas gift of the New Artisans.

The Christmas tree has been demolished and stashed in a suitcase.  Market wares have been reduced greatly in number and stashed away.  A bit of spring cleaning (better late than never) is in progress.
I've put away the winter clothes and installed the summer wardrobe within easy reach. I left some jumpers out because - well, I live here.  I'm an optimist but not a fool.

I've commenced experimenting with some new things and today's was a birdbath, made using a white glass platter, part of a light fitting, a metal bird and some metal rod.  It looks nice in the garden and so far seems to be doing the job.  Work on the trunk from Fremantle is scheduled, although not too much is really needed.  I have new Christmas gift drawing books to fill, projects to work on, fish to draw, charts to draw them on and jewellery to experiment with.

I have to go back to work on Wednesday.  Damn.  I don't have time for that.

Ho.Ho. Ho.

With the hot carrot-scented breath of a reindeer on the back of my neck, I note that the Big Day is drawing closer, and closer, at speed.

The presents are wrapped and under the tree. Said tree is decorated.  Reindeer are good to go.

The mice are preparing for a quiet one tomorrow night, Christmas eve.  They shall not stir.

I've had a peaceful few weeks between markets, and managed to complete some new models, some of which sold from the kitchen table or shared photos, and didn't even make it to the second market. 
 

I posted some pics on Pinterest and kind people have repinned or liked them.  This is good.  (I'm still just a tad surprised when other people like my work and a teeny bit nervous about going too public with my babies.)

Pinterest itself has communicated with me, as these websites tend to.  They sent me an email, entitled 'Pins you will love'.  Sadly, I did not love them.  I mean, hey, they were quite nice pins in their own rights but I was not thrilled, excited or amazed by them.  Perhaps the email should say 'Pins you might kinda like'.  I've seen other stuff I did -well - love/like a lot/find interesting.  But these were not they.  I guess Pinterest hasn't worked out all of my secrets just yet.  I shall maintain my air of mystery a wee while longer.  Call me Mata Hari.

I have only about 10 days of leave left before I'm forced to return to the pit of despair to continue earning to subsidise my foibles.  When the little dog looks sad as I leave for work, I tell him brusquely that I am working to buy his (upmarket) dog food.  He saves his energy by snoozing, that he may rejoice at my return.  This is as it should be. I'm certainly rejoicing on my return, especially when the longer daylight hours mean that I can garden, or work, or sit and read outside.

All the saleable goods and display items have returned home from their temporary market home and been stashed in their storage spots.  I noticed it took two trips to deliver the goods to market and only one to come home, so it must be a positive outcome. 


This also means that I'm free to play with new ideas and designs for a little while.  I also need to do quite a bit more tidying, stashing and even - gasps from the audience - tossing out/giving away.

The idea has left me quite lightheaded.  I think I'll need a little lay down while I think about it.

Merry Christmas, all.