Holey bargain tables, Batman

Picture this: I'm at the counter in the fabric store. I've located a knit on the "bargain table". Its perfect for the the yoga pants I want to make. The sales assistant is busy unfurling 2 metres of fabric.

Me: Um, there appears to be a hole.
Sales assistant: Yep, you're right ... its quite big

We are both peering at the significant tear and extending run.

Me: Oh - its plum in the middle of where I'd be placing a pattern piece.
Sales assistant: I'm not cutting it off and starting again. You can't complain - its a bargain. Do you want it or not?

What should one do in these circumstances?

1. Mutter something about a golf course having less holes and leave in a fit of pique.
2. Take the fabric. Make a costume. Tell people you are dressing as Rip Torn.
3. Suck it up baby. Just buy extra fabric and work around the flaw.
4. Buy the fabric. Make the yoga pants. Rehearse: "sorry about that gapey bit at the back which does nothing for my modesty, but the fabric was such a bargain."

Bobbin organisation for cheapskates

Its not fancy. Its not pretty. Its a teeny bit fiddly. But heck, its cheap and it works.

I have started using rubber bands to match up my spools of thread and bobbins. The band keeps the thread on the bobbin secured, too.

So here's how it works ...

Find a rubber band. Poke it through the spool of thread. You might need a long, thin, pointy thing (tailor's awl, doll's needle, skewer) to help guide it through.




Now hold each end tightly (or the band will keep springing out and you will feel like stabbing yourself with the long, thin, pointy thing).

Wind it twice around the bottom of the spool to anchor it.




Place the bobbin at the other end of the spool and feed the rubber band through the middle.



Pull the rubber band nice and tight and wind it several times around the bobbin to secure it.



Et voilà! Organised bobbins for next to nothing.

The tail of the new computer peripheral

Do you ever have the sense something is different?
But you can't quite work out what?



I was sitting at the computer for more than half an hour ...
... before I noticed.



Apparently using a mouse is so very 2009.
Yep. All the cool people now have a cat instead.



Well, at least that's how the cat ...
... who is not supposed to be on the desk ...
... explained it to me.

Labradorable

Motorcyclist and faithful companion, snapped in
the city centre in Melbourne

Baa baa - ah - ah - ah

Earlier this month I took my two little city slickers on a bit of a road trip. We drove 285 kms due west: our destination, Sheepvention. If you're not so familiar with this event, its Australia's largest wool-growing industry show held annually in Hamilton, Victoria. And its heaps of fun.

Despite the bracing wind and ever-present rain, Argy and Bargy had a whale of a time. They loved meeting woolly White Suffolks and baa-ing Poll Dorsets. They admired the enthusiastic sheep dogs and ogled shiny new farm machinery. And how could they resist indulging their passion for splashing through puddles and falling in gloopy mud? A good time was had by all (I managed to fit in a spot of shopping in one of the trade marquees - at the delightful My Poppet).

On our return home, I wondered what the boys had enjoyed most. The sheep? The tractors? The mud? Hmmm, lets see ...



Nope. Apparently it was the Gala Wool Fashion Parade. See? They have started installing aluminium foil "lights" on their catwalk.

Thankfully it seems their inspiration lies with the kids who presented Hazel Green's beautiful collection (and not the buxom lasses modelling black sequined hot-pants and dancing to a bit of Lady Gaga's Bad Romance*).

* Apologies to fans of the song about the title of this post.

Three weeks

Our Mr HB went away
For three long, long weeks
A "technical conference", he did claim
(methinks: sightseeing with beer and geeks)

As is custom, the minute he left
The computer went on the blink
The phone line developed a fault
And an odd smell came from the sink

To add to this, there was an intruder
In our carport one dark 4 a.m.
Then shortly aft we all got viruses
That created a load of phlegm

The children's need to engage
In hand-to-hand combat
Meant dreams of craft or blogging
Remained nothing more; just that

I'd like to think that solo parenting
I handled with great aplomb
But frankly that stop ringing true
The minute I shouted: I want to resign as Mum

Welcome home Mr HB, I've really missed ....
... my sewing machine