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another big one

I was musing the other day that this is 2017. It’s 100 years since my mother was born. In my family, we like to celebrate these big occasions. Dr B and I are often the ones who prepare the presentations.

That means I have to get busy with scanning photos, calling for scans and/or copies of photos from cousins and other family members – I can’t think of any friends who are still alive – and getting down and dirty with some sort of large format word processing and/or database to produce a timeline for display. See, that’s a couple of knitting projects worth of time already lost to a better cause, although any genuine coverage of my Mum’s life will include many handknitted articles so there’s still that connecting thread.

Still can’t get photos to work properly, so will wish you all the best with your big occasions, too 🙂

 
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Posted by on January 15, 2017 in Family history

 

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comfort of a sort

You know that feeling when you’ve lurched to the last working day of the year and what you haven’t done is not done but you can’t dredge up sufficient energy to care? That happened to me halfway through December. In my previous job, the obligatory holiday during the Christmas shut-down could vary greatly, so I mostly made mine long to enable me to cope with all the family, cycling and rowing events that clustered round that part of summer. It wasn’t the sort of job where the work you hadn’t  finished would be waiting when you returned. Jobs didn’t hang around or hang over for that long. You might find yourself typing later sittings of the same matter, but it would have moved on.

In my present job, almost everything I hadn’t done was awaiting me when I returned, plus a few extras I hadn’t anticipated. That’s a distinct deterrent to taking long breaks, because it means that the return workload is crushing and you need a good life-jacket. But I had a holiday, anyway, during which I managed to tidy my sewing room somewhat.

2017 will be challenging. The sector is changing and in order to survive and flourish, organisations have to not only change but come up with new ideas for growth. I feel remarkably inadequate in that scenario. I’m still reasonably good at thinking on my feet, and quickly, but I have no business background at all. This is, I suspect, a shorthand way of saying that I need to enrol in some suitable units at a local TAFE, or within an undergraduate degree, if I’m to have any hope of not going under. My problem is that I don’t know what I need because it’s difficult to intuit what shape the future changes will take with regard to my job. I often feel now as if I’m close to drowning because of the workload, so perhaps I need to invest in a better life-jacket because that feeling is unlikely to lessen.

As near to drowning as I might be, something I do know is that I’ll need to knit and sew more, or I’ll be too grumpy for words. I also know that I’m going to have to do a l-o-t of work to get my photo app to talk to my blog. Lots to work on this year, and not a resolution in sight! All the best with all of your plans, resolutions or just general intentions for this year’s crafting. 🙂

 
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Posted by on January 8, 2017 in Knitting, Musing, Sewing

 

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reminder to self… and because it’s been such a rugged year

There would be a photo. But I’m still learning my way around the new technology, which is a huge leap from my previous computer.

Today I attended a workshop about resilience in the workplace. Given the volatility of the sector, it’s a necessary attribute for anyone who works in it. Turns out I’m already quite resilient, but occasionally a reminder is a good thing.

In the spirit of continuing the work begun at the workshop, I’m trying to remember to be grateful: today it’s for sunshine and gumtrees, public transport that gets me where I want to go without too much drama, and a workplace where I feel not only valued as a worker but also as a human being.

They’ll help me bounce back tomorrow. 🙂

 
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Posted by on November 29, 2016 in Musing

 

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a different kind of silence

Nonna's wonderful clivias

Nonna’s wonderful clivias

The other day I wrote in our annual Christmas letter that, “One by one the elders are leaving us and it’s beginning to feel mighty breezy at the top of the family tree.” i could have added that it’s also pretty quiet.

A fortnight ago, Nonna died peacefully in a local Palliative Care ward. The same day, a friend died in a different part of the country, also in a Palliative Care ward. A few days later, another of the elderly cousins in Italy joined them.

We made sure that Nonna had a good send-off. We sat with her during those long hours of her last days and we sang to her, all of her songs that we knew and a few newer ones that she loved. As we were all standing around the grave at the end of the ceremonies, looking at the magnificent arrangement of lilies – always her favourite flower, whether to receive or grow – YoungB started singing one of those songs, one in which colours are mentioned. I couldn’t think of a more fitting tribute.

Addio, Nonna, thank you for being part of my family and welcoming me into yours. May your spirit be resting peacefully somewhere where there are lots of flowers and plenty of singing.

 
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Posted by on November 19, 2016 in Family history

 

nothing happening here

Late-afternoon iris, bringing promise of Spring 🙂

It looks as if Spring has been busy and finally reached the garden.

As far as the humans are concerned, Dr B is in composer mode, something YoungB doesn’t really remember from past occurrences. This means that life is chaotic beyond belief. I’m out of the house most of the day – working, not having a good time or sleeping till midday or anything enjoyable like that – and when I get home, I’m lucky if Dr B has removed his dressing gown since I left!

 
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Posted by on October 22, 2016 in Musing

 

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whatever the weather

Dr B was happy to give his fingerless mitts a good workout

You might have heard that we’ve had some wild weather here lately – it’s still wild, to be fair – and we endured a statewide blackout last week. That’s always the time you discover your torches aren’t as reliable as you’d hoped, because that’s the only time you use them; but we were fortunate. For starters, we have a gas stove and gas hot water. Our supply of oil lamps, candles and torches (even the less-than-brilliant few) meant that we could manage without electric lighting for the several hours required. There has been flooding in neighbouring suburbs but we’ve had to deal with nothing more major than a few tree branches across the road and a couple of bins blown about in the backyard.

There seems to be more than the usual equinoctial tempestuousness to contend with right across the globe, so I hope you haven’t been adversely affected by any weather events, wherever you are. It’s true that I’ve been happy to be home on a holidayette – an extra-long long weekend – and not having to be out and about. I’m sure I need only add that knitted fingerless mitts and knitted beanies have been and continue to be well to the fore 🙂

Those that Dr B is sporting are Maine Morning Mitts by Clara Parkes, knitted using Moda Vera Jester in the Gelato Mix colourway. I made them in February 2015 and, although they weren’t meant for Dr B, he was delighted to be their recipient when they proved too large for the co-worker for whom I’d originally intended them. There will always be someone whom they’ll fit 😉 Isn’t that right?

 
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Posted by on October 4, 2016 in Knitting

 

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an even bigger sideways wallop

Addio, Maurizio; your final ride was on a road something like this.

Addio, Maurizio; your final ride was on a road something like this but on the other side of the world.

On Thursday morning we woke to devastating news from Italy: one of the cousins had been killed in a motorbike accident. Yet again, plans for future meetings and shared learning went out the window. We’ve been a bit of a mess ever since.

Yesterday, however, YoungB and his fellow-student girlfriend, Dr B and I spent a delightful day: exhibition, lunch at one of YoungB’s favourite and highly-recommended burger joints, coffee at a chain we probably have – or should have – shares in by now, then a short reception prior to the local premiere of an Italian-Australian film (happily, set in Dr B’s part of northern Italy), showing at a nearby cinema and part of the Lavazza Italian Film Festival 2016. After the film, a Q and A session with the director and her producer husband (information here), and a chat with YoungB’s Italian professor who was also in the audience, it was dinner time. We trundled across the road for that, then hiked back to the car. We had coffee and cakes at a same but different locale (Glynde) before finally coming home some eight hours after setting out.

We were all physically tired but somewhat restored in spirit, even if poor YoungB’s feet were hurting after the amount of standing and walking he’d done in totally inappropriate shoes. End-of-season sales saw that situation remedied this morning, so he went off to watch soccer while Dr B and I pottered about at home: he in the garden, I in the laundry. Oh, the thrill of it all 🙂

But the burning question I’m asking myself is, can I knock up a dress before Thursday’s AGM? I’m tired of winter, tired of being cold, fed up with wearing trousers and not that fond of the idea of a skirt. A dress? There’s potential in the idea. You know me, it’s unlikely to happen. But it makes me feel a little less inadequate to have it as a sort of non-plan when my knitting doesn’t make sense to me because every time I pick it up to do any, there are interruptions. Never mind. We’re alive and well and aren’t we lucky to have that?

 
 

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