Eight-year-old humour

Baby Duck barely eats enough to keep a … well, a baby duck – alive. He’s always had a small appetite and been a slooooow eater. As a result he’s painfully thin. This didn’t used to bother me much. The girls are skinny too. So was I as a child, and so was the Carnivore, so I figure you can’t do much about genetics. We eventually filled out to normal-sized people, and I’m sure the ducklings will too in time.

However, it became a problem when he got so sick back in June and lost so much weight. If you or I lose 4 kilos it’s no big deal. Hell, it’s cause for celebration! But if you only weigh 22 kg to start with, it’s a serious problem. At one stage in hospital he was so thin his backbone reminded me of one of those dinosaurs with spines down their back, his vertebrae stuck out so far. Not a good look.

So we’re now making a concerted effort to fatten him up. Lots of milk, yoghurt, pasta, extra cream, nuts.

Last night we had takeaway pizza for dinner. A year ago he would only have had one slice of pizza before declaring himself too full to eat any more. Then he progressed to eating two slices, which I thought was a big improvement. Last night, for the first time ever, he ate three slices.

Baby Duck: Are you proud of me, Mum, for eating three slices?
Me: I certainly am! This is a new world record!
Baby Duck: I’m still hungry. Can I have another piece of garlic bread?
Me: You’re still hungry?? What have you done with my real son?
Baby Duck: I ATE HIM!!

Sunday sketchbook

Recently I discovered the beautiful blog of
It was such a pleasure to retreat into making art, however badly, in the middle of all the mess and stress of building. Yet another thing I’d like to make more time for … at this rate I’ll need to live to at least 150!

Tales from the building site, Part the First

This is what my house looks like at the moment. The Carnivore and I are sleeping in the kitchen; the girls have set up their bedroom in the lounge room. Everything is Chaos, Confusion and Covered in Crap.

You know when you’re on a beach holiday, how you sit on the edge of your bed every night and brush the sand off your feet? It’s like that, only with dirt instead of sand. In spite of frenzied sweepings and moppings, there’s so much dirt and clay outside I just can’t keep it out.

It will all be worth it in the end, of course. We’ll have a new office for the Carnivore, freeing up a bedroom so the girls don’t have to share. There’ll be lots more storage and a big attic room up top. Can’t wait. In the meantime we’re crammed into one end of the house falling all over each other.

Last Saturday night the Carnivore and I came home from a night out to be greeted by the babysitter telling us the girls were in our bed, as their room was leaking. Sure enough, water was running down the walls in there. The builders had taken off part of the roof and clearly done a less-than-optimum job with the tarpaulins. More problematic, they’d also removed the outer bricks, leaving the inner walls (and their power points) exposed to the weather. And man, did we have Weather that night! It bucketed down.

Not surprisingly, the power went off about three o’clock in the morning, and we didn’t get it back on till after lunch on Sunday, after the builders had clambered around on the roof in the pouring rain to make it all watertight again.

When they came back on Monday they removed those power points. Seems to me it might have been smarter to do that before they removed the brick walls, but hey, it’s all part of the adventure, right? What’s a building project without a few horror stories to tell later?

Fingers crossed that that’s as bad as it gets! At least the ceiling didn’t collapse on the bed, as happened to a friend of mine when she was doing extensions.

How about you? Survived some building works and lived to tell the tale? Tell me your horror stories to make me feel better!

Learning colour bravery

I have a pretty good eye for colour, but I still have plenty to learn. I was inspired to make a rainbow strip quilt after seeing

… and then sat back and thought, man, that’s bland. All blendy and matchy, not at all the vibrant riot of colour I recalled from Catherine’s blog. So I went back and had another look. A better one this time – and realised what an assortment of different shades and patterns she’d used to get that wonderful effect. She didn’t just have one shade of orange, but mustard-orange, gold-orange, brown-orange, red-orange, all mixed up together, plus different scale patterns, and it was that mixture that brought the quilt alive.

So I got a bit braver with my turquoise blocks. Some darks, some lights, some different shades of turquoise. Big prints and small scale prints. Even – gasp! – turquoise fabrics with other colours in them, like hot pink.

Still not quite there, but much better! I love the way the different colours pop out at you.

The quilt is nearly finished now, just have to put on a border. I never did get quite as brave as Catherine, but it was a great learning experience. Not to mention a lot of fun, playing with all those lovely fabrics!

Colour choices in quilting are not as simple as in most other artistic pursuits. Apart from the colour of the fabric you have to consider the scale of the print and also its “style”. Country doesn’t go with Japanese which doesn’t go with modern – even though all three may be the same colour.

Unless of course you’re one of those brave souls who combine everything willy nilly and manage to make it look good, like the inspirational Kathy from Material Obsession. I don’t think I’ll ever be that brave, but it’s fun trying!