Back to work

I have finally got back to work this week, after my 'little holiday'. Miraculously, the pain stopped sometime last week. One day I was in pain, the next I wasn't. Most peculiar.

Custom orders are now being taken for my hessian banners. I am presently slotting in Monday as my main screen printing day, so custom orders will need to be given by Sunday night. They should be sent out by Friday of the same week. Contact me at collectingfeathers@gmail.com to discuss your specs. Ofcourse I also carry stock of most of the other banners I offer. They are available in my Facebook Store and my Made It store.

I don't think I ever put this photo on the blog, although it was on Facebook. The banner ordered by Red Wagon Events was LOVE SWEET LOVE. Doesn't the table look gorgeous?

I have been a busy little Miss today. I have actually sat down and attempted to learn a few Facebook skills for the new look FB.   New shops have been added to my updated facebook page. One is an etsy link,

the other is a facebook shop just for my hessian banners. As you can see, I have just discovered the Snipping Tool as well!

Facebook is amazing. Within one minute of officially launching my hessian banner shop, I had a sale, within 20 minutes I had a couple of enquiries. I was very timid about the whole Facebook phenomenon, but it looks as if I will have to commit some time every day to it from now on.

Onwards and upwards! I am off to do some screen printing.

Easter bunnies and more beauty

I have been sitting here, lazily trawling the net, trying to find beautiful things to look at. I returned to a favourite today, Frederique Morrel. She uses vintage needlework to cover polyurethane sculptures and they are gobsmacking! A recent exhibition in Brussels titled "Horny Bunnies"  includes some very well endowed and naughty bunnies.(I have included a less offensive photo below)

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Oh I could go on and on! There must nary be a tapestry left in Europe. Where does she get them from? Or is she getting them made up in Bali?

I remember that a few years ago that FM used to do a home wares range, and I wondered at that stage how she could spare the tapestries (as they are finite) and as her artworks were priced higher. It now looks as if she doesn't sell these little objects any more, the shop has disappeared, but I found some old pics for inspiration.

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Methinks I will make me a pouf, to rest my lazy feet upon. (This is after I finished my self taught cake decorating course)

Lazy, rainy day

It is raining here today...again, our summer here has been quite soggy and dreary. I am still taking it easy and so have spent the whole day darting from site to site on the net.

I started fixating on cake decorating half way through the day. As a child, I wanted to become a cake decorator, and the other day, I saw a course was being held at Lismore. I was  in a crazy, risk taking mood and told myself that I would pay up to $150 for the course.  However, I was in for a surprise when they told me it was $300 for an eight hour lesson, plus I would have to supply, cakes, biscuits, icing, icing colours, gum paste, rolling pin, measuring cups, spatulas and other items. Anything else?

Of course that prompted me to do a little research. Being of a thrifty nature,  I am fully capable of learning cake decorating from the internet! In my perusing, I came across somebody that has been described as the Manolo Blanik  of cake decorators, Ron Ben-Israel. Really his skill and vision belies belief!

All of the flowers are sugar! Most cakes I found that were comparable used fresh flowers, nobody came anywhere near the skill of this man!

These are both cakes! The first is part of a Mad Hatters Tea Party range of cakes, the other, a massive cake urn with a gorgeous cascade of flowers, complete with green frogs and butterflies.

Oprah and Martha Stewart are his mates. He is the darling of the New York entertainment scene.There is also a blog by his off-sider, NY Cake Girl which has lots of fabulous behind the scenes tidbits for cake decorating wannabees like me, including tutorials. I particularly like the process pictures on his facebook page.

I started off thinking I could make a (daggy) rose or two to adorn a sunken cupcake, but ye gods, the bar has risen so high, I think I shall give up before I even start. 

Hmm he makes it look so easy

Dodgy nail kit

Just a quickie. I made this nail scissor kit this morning for my husband. He is going on a business trip and (I think) needs to upkeep some semblance of  'couth'. As I know that he will leave these items around the bathroom to become rusty, I made up a vinyl nail kit from some old offcuts. It is presumed that with a home to return the items to, he will do so...but (heavy sigh) I know that they will be left in puddles of water, or lost under the bed.

You can't say I haven't tried though. I put some spiffy white triangles on the front for easy visibility. I am afraid they are very wonky and dodgy. I couldn't be bothered putting a fourth one on.That demned vinyl!  It moves and stretches like nobody's business. There must be a special sewing machine foot for this material.

If I wasn't in such a rush, I would redo it, but sometimes the wonky things in life are the most memorable. When he is away from me, my husband can look at it and remember me fondly,  whilst choking back the tears.

Anyhoo, segue, as I was sewing/wrestling with the vinyl, I thought of all the vinyl clothes in the sixties by designers like Pierrre Cardin and Rudi Gernreich. How did they get such clean lines on the seams?

Pierre Cardin

Rudi Gernreich

I am playing again at Our Creative Space. Pop on over to see lots of creative goodness.

Ryan Adams

My husband is a Ryan Adams freak, so last week we journeyed up to Brisbane, to his little piece of heaven, a concert with Ryan unplugged, supported by Jason Isbell (from the Drive by Truckers).

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Yes that is correct, two and half weeks after the op (which I wasn't going to talk about again) I cheerfully endured a six hour round trip to see a man sing. We ensured that I was drugged up with the necessary pain relief and padded with pillows on my reclining seat. It was like a hospital on wheels! But as you know, "I no complaaiin!"

As far as the gig went it was fabulous! It is the first time I have been to see a show in a 'real' purpose built the-a-tre. My experience has previously been limited to thousands of  loud and distorted, albiet exciting, gigs in small smokey rooms, which left my ears ringing.

As I am in my dotage and an invalid to boot, the show was custom built for me. Crystal clear sound and wonderful atmospheric Ryan Adams music, which was enhanced by the absence of superfluous stage lights. For you see Ryan  doesn't like flashy lights, he's not a flashy fella, and so the whole show was unplugged and bathed in a soft red spotlight. Very calming. It warmed the cockles of my heart.

For most of the show I lounged with my eyes closed, feeling the music. We were right up the back of the theatre, but the sound was so good, so crystal clear,  that with eyes closed you would swear that Ryan was a mere metre in front of you. My husband and I both came away exclaiming, yes, exclaiming, that we didn't know that music could sound so good live!

Ofcourse we got carried away and bought T-shirts from the Merch desk that are way too small for us, and disturbingly black metal inspired, but they may be an incentive to lose some weight, eh?

The Pain! The Pain! - A long rant!

Well, I thought I was pretty invincible. I thought I had enough positive little grey brain cells to overcome such paltry things as pain and my body being traumatised. I thought I was Wonder Woman.

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However, it has dawned upon me, instead of a gorgeous super heroine, who is capable of overcoming all,  that maybe I resemble that estimable whinging, whining, whimpering character from Lost in Space, Doctor Zachary Smith.

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I wasn't sure if I sure if I should write this post, because one doesn't like to share too much information online. But saying that, really, how many people are out there reading about little ol’ me, and ultimately, there is no shame in having an organ ripped from your body, except in this case it as my uterus, and growing up, these things were never talked about. They were whispered, mind you. “Women’s problem’s” the ladies would say behind their hands, nodding feverishly and somehow communicating telepathically with their eyes.

One farmer  bloke explained his wife’s absence to me by,  “She is getting her plumbing fixed.” Obviously I, as a woman was supposed to know what that meant. However, even as an adult, and growing up with whispers, I was ignorant enough, and the explanation was so bizarre, that I had no idea what he meant, and just nodded dumbly.

So I state it boldly, I have had my uterus removed! I refuse to explain it as a hysterectomy. It is such a vile word, harkening back to the times when women were sent to mental asylums for gynaecological problems and where the uterus was thought to wander throughout the body.  Also, when do people describe other surgeries by their correct name? Tonsils are removed, appendics are removed, hearts are bypassed, bones are set. Is it because it is taboo to say the name of sexual organs out loud?

Anyhoo, before I get too political, let’s bring it back to moi.The Pain! The Pain!

This toy was recalled as the ovaries could be removed...beware!

Maybe I had watched too many movies, read too many books, where people tend to bounce back very quickly from stab wounds, gunshot wounds,  and being thrown from high places. With this virtual way of thinking, and with the memories of my younger self bouncing back very quickly from similar operations, I was in a word, SMUG! I thought nothing would touch me. I scoffed at the six weeks recommended recuperation, and made a mental note to only spend two weeks.  Everyone else was a whoose, (not sure of the spelling there) and I would raise above any adversity, and smite it with the strength of my mind and superior genetics...

Uterus vase here

Yeah right! And to boot, I am the worse patient imaginable, insisting I can  do such things as, making a bed two days out of surgery, going into town for three hours of walking one week from surgery, ironing for two hours nine days from surgery. These ultimately sent me to bed for a couple of days, flat on my back with increased pain. 

To make things worse I have just discovered this juicy bit of info that I am sure I read before, but refused to acknowledge on Wikipedia.

Depending on the definition of "full recovery" 6 to 12 months have been reported. Serious limitations in everyday activities are expected for a minimum of 4 months.

Isn't that just Jim Dandy! Oh Boo Hoo! 

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Oh, I am such a whinger! This is the last you will hear of it. I must unburden my whines and then move forward. The good thing is, I am slowly getting better. As a new found friend in Utah wrote to me today: 

"Barn's burnt down

Now I can see the moon"

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