Busy Fingers (Just not typing on the computer keyboard)

Most of you put me to shame with your prolific blogging; I just don't seem to be able to get a round tuit (the old ones are the worst aren't they). It's not that I've been off doing exciting/interesting things, just life gets in the way sometimes. My littlest has been very poorly with tonsillitis so I've been under house arrest ministering cuddles and dvds galore. Now I love watching films, but usually just once or twice. The capacity for young children to watch the same thing over and over and still find questions to ask about it absolutely amazes me. But she was too poorly for me to leave the room so I pretended to watch Dr Who with her for the 254th time, but cracked on with my knitting:

Using the organic wool and alpaca mix I mentioned a few weeks ago, I'm knitting this Seachange Gansey. It's absolutely gorgeous to knit with and not a smidge of itch or scratch about it. At £2.50 for 100g from Kemps it's a bargain. I finshed knitting last night ( used less than 500g) and have blocked it this morning

Just need to sew it together tonight and then I'll be ready to go out on my trawler (not really!)

I've also managed to make some sheepskin booties for a friend's newborn:

Born out of necessity, I've discovered a cough / sore throat medicine to add to my supplies ( although one bottle's disappeared already).

Take 50g (ish) fresh thyme and juice of a lemon, pour over 300ml boiling water and leave to infuse overnight.

Strain off the liquid and add 500g sugar and a small jar of honey (2-300g). When dissolved, bring to the boil and simmer until it thickens a little. Pour into sterilised bottles and seal. I added a couple of sprigs of fresh thyme and strips of lemon peel to mine for extra infused goodness. Thyme has excellent anti bacterial properties as does the lemon and honey. Take either by the spoonful, or a generous amount topped up with hot water until symptoms start to ease.

Does My Everything Look Big In This?

My Purple Pointy Jumper made from this yarn:

which was frogged from a charity shop bargain, has been taking shape both in my head and on my needles. It was nearing completion, I had only to finish the neck and crochet around the bottom and sleeves. I dutifully sewed it up and tried it on:

It's HUGE!

Well, to be more precise, I'm huge in it. I have the misfortune to be well endowed with relatively small hips. If I wear anything baggy it hangs from the cliff top which is my bust like a plumb line and makes the rest of me look as big as my bust- eeek!

So although I liked the design, I've turned right around and frogged it again. Watch this space for what I attempt to knit next with it.

The Perils of Joining a Knitting Group

A recent addition to our local community is a renovated victorian factory complete with creative spaces and a gallery ( I think I mentioned it previously here). Someone that I know told me that she was starting up a knitting group and wondered if I was interested which of course I was. The trouble is because my eldest two are involved in activities on Thursdays, we parents are taxi-ing or baby sitting with no room to spare. So despite it finishing past her bed time, I decided pixie face would have to come with me. The consequence? We have both become obsessed with all things knitting and crochet related. Along we trot with our knitting every Thursday, purchase our hot chocolates and sit with an interesting and eclectic mix of knitters of varying ability. It's really great to see teenagers dragged along, reluctantly learning to knit and then seeing them well and truly hooked (albeit keeping it quiet from their friends).

Now last year I vowed to work through my stash to produce more clothes. Well I have been working through my stash, but it seems utter madness to deny myself the chance of buying new yarn- particularly that of the bargain variety. My first temptation that I freely gave into was at the Greenlight Festival in Leicester- an event aimed at sustainability and reducing our carbon footprint. I hadn't anticipated wool for sale, but there was a lady selling this beauty:

It's Manos Del Uruguay.

Spun and dyed by a women's cooperative in Uruguay, even signed by the woman who produced it. This was the most expensive yarn I've ever bought at £10.50, but going to a good cause. trouble is I'm too scared to knit with it, so it's living on the mantlepiece at the moment so I can admire it and squeeze it each day- sad I know.

Then this week, being a fan of Kemps Wool Shop, I couldn't help myself, I succumbed to this gorgeous organic mix of 70% wool, 30% alpaca:

An absolute bargain at £2.50 a skein! And of course to make the postage costs worthwhile, I ordered 16 skeins- just need to find somewhere to stash them for now...

Passport Photos- I've Realised I'm Old!

What is it about passport photos; the stark lighting, the serious expression? Whatever it is, mine makes me look as old as my mother. Having taken the photo and viewed the result, I rushed to the mirror to assure myself that I didn't really look that bad. The trouble is, I do! When did that happen? When did I start to look middle-aged and why didn't someone tell me? The thing is, I'm one of those people who rarely looks in the mirror. I have long straight hair that I wash, comb straight and leave to dry which it does in an hour and remains as straight as "pump water" until I've slept on it. No blowdrying, no primping, no having to check it in the mirror. I also rarely wear makeup so again no need for a mirror. I guess that expains why I'm so shocked at my unvarnished appearence. Apart from aches and pains, I don't feel as old as I am- I mean feelings about things, sense of humour etc. My 15 year old called me immature the other day and sometimes that's how I feel. So the question is should I start exercising my face to chase my emerging jowls away, should I wear makeup and cut my hair short or should I just accept the fact that I've become the person my mother was when I was a teenager?
I'm not going to show you the offending photo, that's between me and the passport dept. However, I take some comfort from the fact that my youngest's photo makes her look dreadful too:

Incidentally, I heard on the radio yesterday that if you DO look like your passport photo, then you're too ill to travel. I'm going for a lie down......

Cup Cake Heaven

Little pixie face and I had the house to ourselves yesterday. Eldest was at a karate competion getting thrashed :(  son was at a rugby game scoring his first try :) so cake-making was the order of the day. A big batch of orange cup cakes were made ( they don't last long in our house), then carefully iced:

Then came the difficult decision of which to eat first

Thea declared it the best day ever.

One Month Since Last Post

And time marches on! I know exactly where it's gone- nursing children with flu interpersed with having it myself. From two days before Christmas I was imprisoned in my house, surrounded by germs. I felt like daubing blood-coloured paint on my lintels and shouting out 'Unclean!' every time someone knocked at the door. Poor little pixie face was so poorly she couldn't open her presents on Christmas Day. The other two had already had the bug and had been coughing for weeks, but still came down with it again. It seems so much worse being ill at Christmas- the only upside was being able to avoid some family commitments. Anyway, I find the longer I'm away from blogging, the less I feel like starting it up again. I feel like I should have something awesome to say after a month's silence, but sorry to disappoint- I haven't. I'm feeling a bit better this week and I'm back into creating after weeks of lying around watching TV. Sadly I didn't get any Christmassy pics to show you wich is a shame 'cause this year's cake and wreath (joint effort between pixie face and me) were lovely.
At least I managed to complete all my artwork and jewellery that had been commissioned for Christmas, I only have a picture of a portrait I'd been asked to do:

I don't know if the recipient was pleased with it, but the sender was.

A couple of new items going into my Folksy shop:

I'm really into the combination of silver and copper at the moment.

Mothers and Daughters

I caught my eldest daughter (15 yrs) typing away frantically at the computer the other night. When I asked what she was doing, "Nothing!" she sang. I've now found out that she was setting up her own Folksy account called MyMumMakesSilverThings. When I asked her why she'd done that, she said in the hope that someone might come across her account and be redirected to my shop. In her bio, this is what she has written:
"I'm no good at making things, or being creative in any artistic way, but just in case someone comes across this profile in some unknown way, I just want to say that my mother goes by the username 'TheSilverMoon' and she makes some really gorgeous silver jewellery. She also has a website: Tammy Kingdon Fine Arts - Google it. She really is amazing, but she's too modest to advertise how good she is, so I thought I'd help her out without her knowing. She really is an incredible artist, and just if you visited her website or looked at some of the jewellery she makes, we'd both appreciate it massively. Thankyou"

I found this out because she sent me a message via Folksy:


I Just Wanted To Email You Regarding How Beautiful Your Jewellery Is...


Hello, I was just searching Folksy and couldn't help but notice some of your jewellery. It is amazing how you make it, and I'm very proud of you. The time that you put into all of this really pays off. Well Done :)

I wanted to post about this because it's so unusual for her to be demonstrative in any way and I had a really warm feeling inside when I realised what she'd done. Don't get me wrong, the next day we still argued about whose job it was to clean out the rabbits and walk the dogs- she hasn't suddenly morphed into a Stepford daughter, but it made me realise that certainly as our children get older and we have less cuddles, pictures and love notes from them, we must take any positive we can and treasure it, embrace it and squeeze the living daylights out of it, if only to remind ourselves how much we love them despite (and sometimes because of) their teenage behaviour.