tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33209616149575090002024-03-13T20:06:32.176+13:00EvangelineBeulahFlossiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513232725297351114noreply@blogger.comBlogger37125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3320961614957509000.post-45220605327479881082012-03-07T13:56:00.002+13:002012-03-08T21:10:20.619+13:00Well Hello, it's been awhile. Life's been happening and I've been doing loads of reading of others blogs (missing your posts K), drawing inspiration from images on Pinterest and catching up with friends on, the much maligned by some, Facebook. That was when I haven't been baking, cleaning, laundering, vacuuming, gardening, pruning, which eats away at most of my days. I long for my Fri(ee)days and I've missed a few so they're being claimed back this week.<br />
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This was the state of the dining table last night at 11.30. It's the result of finding a collection of corks, saved from many a good occasion with friends. Then an idea springs from the grey matter, and the hunt is on for a piece of leftover customwood and blackboard paint from another creation, the hot glue gun and PVA. I enjoy working things out as you go along, and the discovery that you should have done something differently. Nevermind, next time, but I think this is a once off. Thank goodness for cast iron pans, very handy things for cooking, weighing things down and for dealing with philandering husbands, not that I have any personal experience of the latter.<br />
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And this is the result which, when I drag out the ladder and my favourite tool the power drill, will hang above the french doors in the kitchen. The previous occupier of the abode had MILK, and I did contemplate W(h)INE, but I think this suits the corks and me. There's many a memory contained within; the point on the G is a 1998 St Henri Shiraz which was particularly good, many Milltons corks,the 2002 vintage is well represented, perhaps because I took part in the 2003 which wasn't such a good year. Some years are good, some not so, isn't that life.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Lastly, our family has grown by five. This is Fluke, Dory and Fishy, the other two are hiding under a rock somewhere. I thought Goldfish were relatively low maintenence, keep their environment clean, feed them and Bob's your uncle, but not these guys. They will not come to the surface to eat so we have to hand feed them, because you can't let the food sink or it creates nitrogen, blah de blah, dead fish. We don't want that. I'm hoping that as the waterlillies grow and spread out they may relax a bit more. I live in hope.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">xx</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div>Flossiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513232725297351114noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3320961614957509000.post-26871264555543377622012-01-10T10:27:00.000+13:002012-01-10T10:27:29.097+13:00Christmas and New Years celebrations have been and gone, decorations packed away for another year, and we've been in our new home for a month. None of the traditional resolutions again for me, but there's been a lot of pondering and soul searching going on while up a ladder cleaning windows and removing spiderwebs. I don't know where to from here. Two goals that I had hoped to make happen this year have been put on hold because of the move so there's room for more. Smaller goals, baby steps.<br />
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My list so far…<br />
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<ol><ol><li>Free Fridays, or Freedays as coined by a good friend(you know who you are). Started last year and it's a winner. No domestic duties to be undertaken, just a day for creating wonderful things and letting imagination take flight. Will have to wait until the children are back at school! </li>
<li>Get to know the locals and the neighbourhood.</li>
<li>Plant a vege patch, and some fruit trees.</li>
<li>Sow some wildflowers in wild places.</li>
</ol></ol><div style="text-align: left;">...And that's it.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;">The boxes and stuff of life are finding new places to rest but I have a challenge with my magazines. I've subscribed to NZ House and Garden for years now and I've been a bit precious about them. They've been a bone of contention between my beloved and me over the last few moves as there's quite a few. I've started going through them, rereading as I go. The one above is from February 1997 and oh how times, and decor, have changed. Remember paint effect wallpaper with a floral frieze? But the recipes are still fantastic. So the older ones are going to be recycled into something else; papier mache perhaps. The recipes though are going to be saved and added to my recipe book started when in my teens. It should be a huge tome by now but in truth it has tonnes of cutout pieces of paper sandwiched in that occasionally fall over the floor, if someone else dares to pick it up. Oddly enough I can always find what I'm looking for.</div><div style="text-align: left;">On the last day of 2011 I made the pound cake recipe from the above mag and by evening it had almost been entirely devoured by my family, all but one piece that was hidden away for New Years morning for me, with coffee of course.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;">This was what it was meant to look like.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;">This was the reality, not as pretty as I wasn't patient enough to let it cool any longer before dripping it with lemony syrup, but it tasted divine. </div><div style="text-align: left;">I tested out Mussel and Zucchini Fritters the other night as well. Delish. it will be a year of NZH&G revisited for dinner and the odd decadent dessert. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">So, as mentioned, cleaning windows and shooing spiders has been on the agenda. The tape measure came out the other day and the height of the ceiling is over 4 metres. That's a long way down when you're perched on a ladder. Determination is getting me through. We wondered what the pile of debris was that was lodged into the side of the main support beam that runs through the centre of the house. It was a birds nest overlooked by the previous owner, or perhaps kept for posterity. I love birds but didn't want them coming back to nest above the television.<br />
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The first of 3 venetian blinds came down the other day to be scrubbed clean. I loathe them but they're staying for the mean time. I was sure I'd plummet from the ladder when trying to manouevre it down, home alone as I was, but it was the concrete outside that got me. After propping up the blind on the clothesline I went to grab the hose to rinse it and walking backwards, stretching it out, I forgot about the concrete step, and ended up in a crumpled heap. Laying there cursing my stupidity I did the mental assessment to see if anything was broken. My darling dog came over, lay beside me and gave me a lick. In the year that she's been with me she's become firmly embedded in my heart. Anyway, nothing broken, a few bruises and one very sore wrist and shoulder. I should have stuck with the ladder. There's a lesson in this for me. Never walk backwards, look straight ahead so you can avoid the concrete steps. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Looking forward to a year full of whatever life may bring, but aiming for more harmony and happiness, and more laughter.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">xx</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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</div>Flossiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513232725297351114noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3320961614957509000.post-65068700688846207242011-12-20T18:39:00.000+13:002011-12-20T18:39:55.574+13:00We're home, over a week now and working my way through the boxes. We've a large space to fill but I'm actually enjoying having some empty spaces. It's quite freeing not having my usual but much loved clutter around although I'm not what you would call a minimalist by nature. Maximalism is more my thing, collect and ferret away because one day it might come in handy, but I'm coming to the conclusion it's time to shed some excess and simplify. That in itself is going to be difficult and I've enough to keep me occupied at the moment. The house unfortunately wasn't what you would call clean when we arrived here which was very disappointing, and has added more to the workload of unpacking. At least the person that moves into where we were won't have that stress.<br />
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Our plastic tree has come out of its box for yet another year. No smell of pine just the nostalgic mustiness and dust of Christmases past, favourite decorations and handmade ones by the children added. And my favourite lights, little artificial roses, add their magic. The fire surround, one of those things collected and carried around from move to move, has been dragged out and cleaned and at the moment is leaning against the wall behind the tree. I have the wall brackets just need my beloved to get out his drill and attach it securely(we've had two minor earthquakes since being here, short sharp tremors that stop you in your tracks, so it has to be big screws). My mantel clock will have somewhere permanent to sit. <br />
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</div>With all the big windows there isn't tonnes of empty wall space so our old dresser, Big Blue, has had to be separated and now I've nowhere to put my honeypots, teacups and dinnerset. BB has always done an excellent job of safely storing them so they might be on the list of things to rehome.<br />
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The girls are happy as the top part is perfect for a plethora of toys. Some of them might have to be rehomed too. Change is good, or so I've heard.<br />
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</div>It's a wonderful building we've found ourselves in. Built in 1906 it's been a school for the majority of its life, where children came to learn to cook and sew and work with wood. Only in the last few years was it turned into a home, and there's still room for improvement. It has a good feeling and will be a great place to live and create. The neighbours are nice to look out on too.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">What a splendiferous year 2011 has been and I'm so grateful. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Wishing you a Christmas full of happiness</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">xx </div>Flossiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513232725297351114noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3320961614957509000.post-19897605108926855432011-11-15T09:56:00.000+13:002011-11-15T09:56:50.023+13:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Sometimes when you have children they catch things, contagious childhood illnesses which make life uncomfortable for a little while. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg30kN1hmRVAvJl4AL33sTvjYRVEiRPbQG18suZ-4uVuwB9xVpnelsJoZ2JEpCo3UMlVdJWzSCZnc1vbFeHG_pttNosUXIWptw3wd-nn6OBT3OSKgQgVRFyMgW1xdc6pzQpIvx9Bh51Gz-O/s1600/Scanned+Image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg30kN1hmRVAvJl4AL33sTvjYRVEiRPbQG18suZ-4uVuwB9xVpnelsJoZ2JEpCo3UMlVdJWzSCZnc1vbFeHG_pttNosUXIWptw3wd-nn6OBT3OSKgQgVRFyMgW1xdc6pzQpIvx9Bh51Gz-O/s320/Scanned+Image.jpg" width="306" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Times it by two with a week in between and that was October gone, and half of the school holidays spent at home in self imposed isolation. Now the itches have departed and the scars are fading. Life hasn't quite resumed on its normal course, there's a bit of meandering afoot. Here's a clue…</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYZ4Z_DhsgyfraPP3qvK9GYHZmPdIFdZF9wQK0OlbJ9BMU_xceFnVAV6Kt9t_UvDV7vPXF8nXWoQRnY9G5D6Hj0KaF2R5ows2YeOFoGZpo1yNVLce9SH-8QVm2utxwIp3xQkm041wyu7Lo/s1600/DSCF0006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYZ4Z_DhsgyfraPP3qvK9GYHZmPdIFdZF9wQK0OlbJ9BMU_xceFnVAV6Kt9t_UvDV7vPXF8nXWoQRnY9G5D6Hj0KaF2R5ows2YeOFoGZpo1yNVLce9SH-8QVm2utxwIp3xQkm041wyu7Lo/s320/DSCF0006.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A large stack of cardboard boxes in the living room. I can't wait to get to our new home but lots of packing to do before we get there, and then that's it, we stay put. Heaven for a cancerian like me, no longer a hermit crab. Yippee! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">xx </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Flossiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513232725297351114noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3320961614957509000.post-80325912382609419212011-10-05T11:26:00.000+13:002011-10-05T11:26:13.938+13:00Crikey, the last month has zoomed by. Christmas really will be here before I know it and then the panic will set in. No, calmness will prevail.<br>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Last Friday I ventured forth on a mission to find some fabric. I love finding fabric but sadly there aren't multitudes of fabric shops here. For the first time ever I failed dismally, not one metre came home. Instead I bought some wool and a crochet hook, in an attempt to see if my fingers would remember what my Nana taught me all those years ago. I discovered it's a bit like riding a bike, you don't forget.<br>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvaUcYgDs8tXIZtaDMqHyFqFIHc3Z80WVv-wn9jOzp1k0XMaa4QO0Nvc4FwNjtdX6CkBCM15X6YjHdopNfKCQp3rRWCGMGdxKtRGEEtVyHepkksjimsbcKqQQFLqYyT0ix3OztwX0sx635/s1600/DSCF0011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvaUcYgDs8tXIZtaDMqHyFqFIHc3Z80WVv-wn9jOzp1k0XMaa4QO0Nvc4FwNjtdX6CkBCM15X6YjHdopNfKCQp3rRWCGMGdxKtRGEEtVyHepkksjimsbcKqQQFLqYyT0ix3OztwX0sx635/s320/DSCF0011.JPG" width="320"></a></div><br>
<a href="http://evangelinebeulah.blogspot.com/2011/10/crikey-last-month-has-zoomed-by.html#more">Read more »</a>Flossiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513232725297351114noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3320961614957509000.post-86770705460752944882011-09-06T16:31:00.005+12:002011-09-07T09:46:27.134+12:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuq-MRxp8nGTgf0tiPOHsXr15Vki_0GiYKEMdMP6E_ter1exVwBHcSFTvAvn_RZAZE-UeK5yOp70NRvYvx1fwJI-OTxG4UoK3j_ZdK_eASSHpmSdfc9YEjHKWgcqEdFI5zNshM26dy5AGE/s1600/IMG_0697.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuq-MRxp8nGTgf0tiPOHsXr15Vki_0GiYKEMdMP6E_ter1exVwBHcSFTvAvn_RZAZE-UeK5yOp70NRvYvx1fwJI-OTxG4UoK3j_ZdK_eASSHpmSdfc9YEjHKWgcqEdFI5zNshM26dy5AGE/s320/IMG_0697.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
In my loathing of all things beige and blah have I made an impetuous, terribly expensive, error?<br />
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The camera slightly freaked out and didn't know where to focus, and neither did I when I walked in this afternoon to find it sitting in the living room. My beloved neglected to tell me it was back from the upholsterers and decided I'd find out soon enough.<br />
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My marvellous magenta monstrosity is giving me the happy feeling, it's just so loud, like my secret self I hide inside.<br />
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My next mission is to keep the kids from jumping and sliding on my old dear with her new dress, and keep Miss Canine off too. I've a hard road ahead of me on that front I feel. Oh and there's the new cushions to make. Perhaps a crochet granny square? The possibilities…<br />
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xxFlossiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513232725297351114noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3320961614957509000.post-52703484418636734762011-09-02T14:42:00.000+12:002011-09-02T14:42:52.247+12:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic6Ct-KexF2bfi4vdZXWwKZmJCUqXOXk65LMIT2Dx7R-R4VqBr4pE7xQd7J4l1adtMcq1sgxDU9W8etXiHKi-OqJWNPUkuC-VYN58kRAmcBoTErLhA_-bm9z_NxTYsA2VTg7QygZo95TTO/s1600/IMG_0291.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic6Ct-KexF2bfi4vdZXWwKZmJCUqXOXk65LMIT2Dx7R-R4VqBr4pE7xQd7J4l1adtMcq1sgxDU9W8etXiHKi-OqJWNPUkuC-VYN58kRAmcBoTErLhA_-bm9z_NxTYsA2VTg7QygZo95TTO/s320/IMG_0291.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunrise over Hartbeespoortdam</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Never in my wildest dreams did I believe that this year would, or could, be filled with so much travel. We were invited to South Africa, Johannesburg to be exact, and the opportunity was not to be passed up.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-l27y07dc2BdLl_CjeMNXEQd9hwNAylj8nieGuJ91okUy4x1Ohe0wndpz2p4lUfJWbK-lPjIwj-rhDeuZAv6HA4lHGe17g8w1tQ8ikUs66UqlVDSNUwHaScuAUrbbzwaX7Fj_jR2ft9eR/s1600/IMG_0317.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-l27y07dc2BdLl_CjeMNXEQd9hwNAylj8nieGuJ91okUy4x1Ohe0wndpz2p4lUfJWbK-lPjIwj-rhDeuZAv6HA4lHGe17g8w1tQ8ikUs66UqlVDSNUwHaScuAUrbbzwaX7Fj_jR2ft9eR/s320/IMG_0317.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">My beloved took the camera and ran with it, taking loads of photos, so many it's a bit daunting going through them all. After looking at them though I've regretted not taking my own images. I didn't see things the same way as he did, so it's like looking through someone elses eyes. I have so many images and memories running round inside my head I need to get them down on paper. When you're driving in the rural areas the colours are overwhelmingly earthy, volcanic soil, rusting iron, shades of brown, and then a person will pop into view wearing intensely bright colours, red/orange/blue/green, or a tin shanty will be brightly painted and the effect is both surreal and spectacular.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6lfMAtfM8LTmBFD3-7azG_08HbVELSY-rNc8F8dlL8nMJU2O1snG1ZTBJhCssVelfay3XK1AWVl-vumGM1nuZmURRxWS9vb8x6d0K6dtEdgjpb6KXoY1P4TmthZymYi1EqL5ZOusPREaX/s1600/IMG_0346.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6lfMAtfM8LTmBFD3-7azG_08HbVELSY-rNc8F8dlL8nMJU2O1snG1ZTBJhCssVelfay3XK1AWVl-vumGM1nuZmURRxWS9vb8x6d0K6dtEdgjpb6KXoY1P4TmthZymYi1EqL5ZOusPREaX/s320/IMG_0346.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg91TZ8CAVf3Ra3p5mW4tbW3ixg1woeCkSt9JWKXEFduVrNEF5SlMpJHAQaiMkJA8uR6bSLb1sw2EZsRbrJ9zjBTpYvUDYVHtkSLoNIhV2tcG75PJUK-l0a_0n4CDzbimNMX7QL5oFrteFc/s1600/IMG_0321.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg91TZ8CAVf3Ra3p5mW4tbW3ixg1woeCkSt9JWKXEFduVrNEF5SlMpJHAQaiMkJA8uR6bSLb1sw2EZsRbrJ9zjBTpYvUDYVHtkSLoNIhV2tcG75PJUK-l0a_0n4CDzbimNMX7QL5oFrteFc/s320/IMG_0321.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzXpxvMXmd42OJ7JW_aNEutpZhKJqtXyr8aUiCFFWYjP9b7N3S_N8cIbjaycKFxY1xpaCZafTlgI-1HrifRBBPoSoZpGD8ZGR-9g1LlJpt-c5oycoeNjFVGhE6x5JqNxxrNN7ivVzsMa3z/s1600/IMG_0375.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzXpxvMXmd42OJ7JW_aNEutpZhKJqtXyr8aUiCFFWYjP9b7N3S_N8cIbjaycKFxY1xpaCZafTlgI-1HrifRBBPoSoZpGD8ZGR-9g1LlJpt-c5oycoeNjFVGhE6x5JqNxxrNN7ivVzsMa3z/s320/IMG_0375.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje1UWLNFSdF5j6Owulrk7o9TJaFOYxW1nyA8nry_1nYMC66bBscZXobzewXSdn7qbadawnrBh3l1iNB8JSTt6ylPQ_7hOPzJjjWqBusDsrO-0wSf4NTTShRLkUtMmqi_3zGiPfCbqmF3yQ/s1600/IMG_0301.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje1UWLNFSdF5j6Owulrk7o9TJaFOYxW1nyA8nry_1nYMC66bBscZXobzewXSdn7qbadawnrBh3l1iNB8JSTt6ylPQ_7hOPzJjjWqBusDsrO-0wSf4NTTShRLkUtMmqi_3zGiPfCbqmF3yQ/s320/IMG_0301.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Platinum mine</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB4IVFpBw-ahbBPu3ainjAw4qfqzXqoaMnOgPH-UWK_LLGdpT7aQrSUFnpunCSoQvpvAK8GUd9wzR_eNFAvM5lBW5mupcdEubX2_eih2OklKQOP_wTBHeCPIOd8NP9eYJhJLgll7HcoI6G/s1600/IMG_0448.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB4IVFpBw-ahbBPu3ainjAw4qfqzXqoaMnOgPH-UWK_LLGdpT7aQrSUFnpunCSoQvpvAK8GUd9wzR_eNFAvM5lBW5mupcdEubX2_eih2OklKQOP_wTBHeCPIOd8NP9eYJhJLgll7HcoI6G/s320/IMG_0448.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrN3YPTDR92-3eKkzxCL9HYEpXPXdau1HmJ60epEQU849DSEpvDxAm44x7nsvvBYDJF8iT80wYdDPkSWUtVYLpM6gbveeIrx7UssIgY2LZPtL0WmjhaWlSZ6XvJqr995ndW0Tgd4bgDXda/s1600/IMG_0380.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrN3YPTDR92-3eKkzxCL9HYEpXPXdau1HmJ60epEQU849DSEpvDxAm44x7nsvvBYDJF8iT80wYdDPkSWUtVYLpM6gbveeIrx7UssIgY2LZPtL0WmjhaWlSZ6XvJqr995ndW0Tgd4bgDXda/s320/IMG_0380.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">We stayed in a very wealthy suburb called Sandton, filled with shops like Gucci, Bally, and Louis Vuitton, and security guards everywhere, but step outside its boundary and the contrast is amazing. People everywhere. Traffic with little regard for any road rules. Open deck vehicles travelling at high speed on the motorway with a dozen people on the back holding on for dear life. Suburbs surrounded with wire mesh fences, topped off with barbed or razor wire, "keep out" to the extreme. People hustling to survive. Hyper awareness of what and who is around you all the time, and the main motivation for it is fear, the fear that somebody might steal from you, kidnap you or take your life. Not a way to live. Poverty and wealth coexist but not in a happy relationship. I've had my innocent eyes opened and I'm so glad, and fortunate, to live where I do.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibqKStpbK5exuayWd0owt7vYtlM20ym6Pmzu7teQfqGViR4d7VnVR6ZW06xptVNHEW-jsbix6FFFzI9LqQ1WeNSsxgP8yoVdgAKNz5b78G8WG61ifyBYrAAhibthR51gaHcsLEnSGzQRH8/s1600/IMG_0436.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibqKStpbK5exuayWd0owt7vYtlM20ym6Pmzu7teQfqGViR4d7VnVR6ZW06xptVNHEW-jsbix6FFFzI9LqQ1WeNSsxgP8yoVdgAKNz5b78G8WG61ifyBYrAAhibthR51gaHcsLEnSGzQRH8/s320/IMG_0436.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL0zg7_0U77nZi1nMGU7UMDc8nxJ96a53dyBzKFau_jA6tvZ7YUc8W_9lwxGpqrYpUWaatompnO0FjNbmPxJe3la7svKFE88vk8vvFoxddEkiWdQ7NK-3oKQAQz5uX72FW9JdtQcw4V6__/s1600/IMG_0411.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL0zg7_0U77nZi1nMGU7UMDc8nxJ96a53dyBzKFau_jA6tvZ7YUc8W_9lwxGpqrYpUWaatompnO0FjNbmPxJe3la7svKFE88vk8vvFoxddEkiWdQ7NK-3oKQAQz5uX72FW9JdtQcw4V6__/s320/IMG_0411.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8u_6DdOuFljaKhUHZOYNvS0_OKIkO92CcEqnjL0PUNSdm9FPQUcrlUMlLhHgrLRZZxrI7rC7mhs80QTPQiLrwYQyhoyOIOVY8Ztjk3vQRvzZeP_A0T3JOBbM0z0ePQDEIW_SzyRkP2tqc/s1600/IMG_0540.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8u_6DdOuFljaKhUHZOYNvS0_OKIkO92CcEqnjL0PUNSdm9FPQUcrlUMlLhHgrLRZZxrI7rC7mhs80QTPQiLrwYQyhoyOIOVY8Ztjk3vQRvzZeP_A0T3JOBbM0z0ePQDEIW_SzyRkP2tqc/s320/IMG_0540.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs_LO2nWXmgniNNFx_7eykSe-RgYRwy2OU8y06ojj4udEAASJBvb3gfF6UIqYEpqI85fLzNkCYdDhCXRNFyTP8KdOMZHwOINSbWDooVp5ZD0wrgIAmQDwvnFxO-d2HUZ7jEUZQjZtpxFkm/s1600/IMG_0585.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs_LO2nWXmgniNNFx_7eykSe-RgYRwy2OU8y06ojj4udEAASJBvb3gfF6UIqYEpqI85fLzNkCYdDhCXRNFyTP8KdOMZHwOINSbWDooVp5ZD0wrgIAmQDwvnFxO-d2HUZ7jEUZQjZtpxFkm/s320/IMG_0585.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gandhi square</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJK-yyukO6gNq258TpGLIHuCls1cHf1uwZz-ZjD7ggMoPUFwxbpauLXOspVtPaN94imgMEQSY4LU93eUxUELSRUkHzpI0h7X2I1sf9j6aHBC4ShlMfI00w6EGn6BVvC7-tOr1TZd9MfIiD/s1600/IMG_0578.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJK-yyukO6gNq258TpGLIHuCls1cHf1uwZz-ZjD7ggMoPUFwxbpauLXOspVtPaN94imgMEQSY4LU93eUxUELSRUkHzpI0h7X2I1sf9j6aHBC4ShlMfI00w6EGn6BVvC7-tOr1TZd9MfIiD/s320/IMG_0578.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old Johannesburg, central city<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC3mWxdPmggMpGsylwDNjGbUKcJdneSOAju1cIu608g4Z6BtUmxEmoCRvyGlysDOhCTEuCZl1y7Z77k-ALR06TdgMKDu-rZGxwOT4olrgkcLzR-S-8LR1mQsBBB7_XY74xunthbixwSCxB/s1600/IMG_0554.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC3mWxdPmggMpGsylwDNjGbUKcJdneSOAju1cIu608g4Z6BtUmxEmoCRvyGlysDOhCTEuCZl1y7Z77k-ALR06TdgMKDu-rZGxwOT4olrgkcLzR-S-8LR1mQsBBB7_XY74xunthbixwSCxB/s320/IMG_0554.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nelson Mandela's abode in Houghton, an affluent suburb of Jo'burg</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm thankful for the experience but happy to be home</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">xx </div><br />
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</div>Flossiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513232725297351114noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3320961614957509000.post-61405000412821259482011-08-05T19:00:00.000+12:002011-08-05T19:00:50.115+12:007 days…<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">…and what a week of contrast it's been. Home again, layers of clothing returned. If you happen to be in Brisbane you should grab some sushi at the very new and wonderful Iro (Japanese for colour) created and owned by my wonderful, talented and gorgeous sister in law Nic. The sushi is just as divine as the restaurant looks. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div>Flossiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513232725297351114noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3320961614957509000.post-56435164661005334382011-07-23T16:19:00.001+12:002011-07-23T16:20:48.155+12:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_nVNji6hsqcZXGII2x4kHn309bsB24R7s4nnhB__Ql9M3S616JW25borZsBE8ybW5QUnzwaCKND4rY_Bso-pwp_vgYtTVhviZmL3w0DtZRjDjyXDNfuASRw9TMxu5l2xdtuiM_paM9wSa/s1600/DSCF0009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_nVNji6hsqcZXGII2x4kHn309bsB24R7s4nnhB__Ql9M3S616JW25borZsBE8ybW5QUnzwaCKND4rY_Bso-pwp_vgYtTVhviZmL3w0DtZRjDjyXDNfuASRw9TMxu5l2xdtuiM_paM9wSa/s320/DSCF0009.JPG" width="187"></a></div><br>
My baby turned 5 a couple of weeks ago, two days before the end of the school term. She is now a big school girl and her bag looks huge on her little shoulders. The middle of winter and we've a battle to get her to wear socks so sometimes it's easier to pick your battles, let them get cold toes, and discover for themselves why Mama knows best.<br>
<a href="http://evangelinebeulah.blogspot.com/2011/07/my-baby-turned-5-couple-of-weeks-ago.html#more">Read more »</a>Flossiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513232725297351114noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3320961614957509000.post-79954811057340382082011-07-15T11:19:00.000+12:002011-07-15T11:19:55.774+12:00<div style="text-align: left;">What do you do when you are asked by your child "can we please go to the toyshop?" for the hundredth time because they "really need a toy cat". You don't take them. Oh no. Instead you ask them to draw what the cat looks like and attempt to recreate it. This had the potential to end in tears(for me) and tantrums(for her), but it didn't. Miss R's cats always have particularly long ears, legs and tails and I wish I could find the drawing she did for me but I think the dog may have eaten it, or it has been hidden somewhere by little fingers. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br>
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7ZnO83G5Doof1PBeLGYXDwH6z_cMd3_XsjYHit3ni48bxLKd-DVguXlc4tgIv2hRq3Fn_C9Pr5BNKi6K21DBWv3gMEaduh1-IefomQ_9USH9yAto5fZA_IB_iZRY2ZdfeFi9sGLFLJANS/s1600/DSCF0043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7ZnO83G5Doof1PBeLGYXDwH6z_cMd3_XsjYHit3ni48bxLKd-DVguXlc4tgIv2hRq3Fn_C9Pr5BNKi6K21DBWv3gMEaduh1-IefomQ_9USH9yAto5fZA_IB_iZRY2ZdfeFi9sGLFLJANS/s320/DSCF0043.JPG" width="320"></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">It likes lazing around,</div><a href="http://evangelinebeulah.blogspot.com/2011/07/what-do-you-do-when-you-are-asked-by.html#more">Read more »</a>Flossiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513232725297351114noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3320961614957509000.post-50303044585272571852011-07-02T18:10:00.001+12:002011-07-04T23:05:55.524+12:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNH0igAm9FD_opAi2YluWDlLeXPy5kOI7CQ3kp3-BJhluH2tHCH9CkyslPGKV8caFbSxFn1usY3gD-52kgBwyphCLrwv4EJaQSlqkexzrc3BaIFbLT0C5vYZ0RwOEJlJyNQkfqdfgLlSHA/s1600/DSCF0019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNH0igAm9FD_opAi2YluWDlLeXPy5kOI7CQ3kp3-BJhluH2tHCH9CkyslPGKV8caFbSxFn1usY3gD-52kgBwyphCLrwv4EJaQSlqkexzrc3BaIFbLT0C5vYZ0RwOEJlJyNQkfqdfgLlSHA/s320/DSCF0019.JPG" width="320"></a></div><br>
To anyone not from New Zealand this is a wood pigeon or Kereru, nothing like the average sit on a statue pigeon. They like trees not buildings and are big, gorgeous gluttons that will quite happily sit on a plum tree and stuff themselves with ripe fruit until they are so full they look drunk.<br>
<a href="http://evangelinebeulah.blogspot.com/2011/07/to-anyone-not-from-new-zealand-this-is.html#more">Read more »</a>Flossiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513232725297351114noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3320961614957509000.post-68858576523058997612011-06-29T11:47:00.001+12:002011-06-29T11:49:59.707+12:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaJHmdlAz3vwkkBRT03Kl7Mp64c-tfbDRg2RiPlNw3Fp1K5a7nC52FQ-wiURqKx03fi_DTI0kgH3_MR3a4rTEM_nixPybpl9SASfxJO1spNxdkqvvO0QxmMkMOrmxPpxAluvSsKJXnttgL/s1600/DSCF0008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaJHmdlAz3vwkkBRT03Kl7Mp64c-tfbDRg2RiPlNw3Fp1K5a7nC52FQ-wiURqKx03fi_DTI0kgH3_MR3a4rTEM_nixPybpl9SASfxJO1spNxdkqvvO0QxmMkMOrmxPpxAluvSsKJXnttgL/s320/DSCF0008.jpg" width="320"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br>
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Another birthday has been and gone, and so lovely to receive this precious treasure in the post from a much loved friend.</div><a href="http://evangelinebeulah.blogspot.com/2011/06/another-birthday-has-been-and-gone-and.html#more">Read more »</a>Flossiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513232725297351114noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3320961614957509000.post-63314335128425988912011-06-20T21:27:00.003+12:002011-06-21T20:07:14.178+12:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDgfn-yb1pxxRbgd5Mxonurq8k-0eI9jpYPvW31eefOwY135ZEgYz-LR-f39N-px1KW08C3BwR_fhavfwV9lsRy5z1SVTlWkFhk-_wYRoSmtl_P2IRgm7oEH5BCyx_KjTMDRjgVn_7XBii/s1600/DSCF0041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDgfn-yb1pxxRbgd5Mxonurq8k-0eI9jpYPvW31eefOwY135ZEgYz-LR-f39N-px1KW08C3BwR_fhavfwV9lsRy5z1SVTlWkFhk-_wYRoSmtl_P2IRgm7oEH5BCyx_KjTMDRjgVn_7XBii/s320/DSCF0041.JPG" width="240"></a></div><br>
This is our first winter here in this house. What was a welcome sanctuary from the sun and heat of summer has turned into a dark and shady place in the cold of winter. You can't have it all, but it would be nice.<br>
<a href="http://evangelinebeulah.blogspot.com/2011/06/this-is-our-first-winter-here-in-this.html#more">Read more »</a>Flossiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513232725297351114noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3320961614957509000.post-88616970280420434432011-06-09T14:37:00.000+12:002011-06-09T14:37:19.966+12:00… what else has been happening apart from jaunts outside at night with the camera? A bit of book buying and reading for one.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-vYzTJCS4d0c_EP-17_Qyz12kYNqFlEEr4TKBoG-tNh91E7UgFkxrOaBk7DJECmrL_UeA9WNR3fcMcap6BzqQQHfdBIr9O1XTl_kChmIazPJQXGqORXPy6Kr9VC9QxBpbhty5qVrPdAFz/s1600/DSCF0018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-vYzTJCS4d0c_EP-17_Qyz12kYNqFlEEr4TKBoG-tNh91E7UgFkxrOaBk7DJECmrL_UeA9WNR3fcMcap6BzqQQHfdBIr9O1XTl_kChmIazPJQXGqORXPy6Kr9VC9QxBpbhty5qVrPdAFz/s320/DSCF0018.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Thanks to Catherine for your recommendation. A good, light read and all finished so if you would like it let me know and I'll pass it on. When I was buying it I saw the other and thought, "What's better than one book about a vintage clothing store? Two." Completely different stories though, and the second went off suddenly at the end on a tangent that left me with a what the? Now I've gone back to my old faithfuls and have dug out A Year in Provence from the bookshelf. I love rereading books after a big gap of years. It's like rediscovering a long lost friend. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbpJJmctwnxCBLSc1BCSYDqBSy1TpKox_byWTQHxKa0QjbdDZz3r285soQU4AnGD3edI8P0VCCKGX1OrKQNsH4LpMekCHA3cN1ODWb717d4SvGsSi5SdrlDbMV1jgQpNvjPbaFmBxMTV6C/s1600/DSCF0027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbpJJmctwnxCBLSc1BCSYDqBSy1TpKox_byWTQHxKa0QjbdDZz3r285soQU4AnGD3edI8P0VCCKGX1OrKQNsH4LpMekCHA3cN1ODWb717d4SvGsSi5SdrlDbMV1jgQpNvjPbaFmBxMTV6C/s320/DSCF0027.JPG" width="225" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A new friend discovered is this. I don't like ironing as can be witnessed sometimes by my slightly crumpled, wash and wear attire. I do iron some items but spending an afternoon removing all traces of a crease is not me, but I love ironed pillowcases. I love ironed pillowcases that smell of roses even more. Waking up with the aroma of roses is bliss. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkw-rlwxY91-HXev3GRq5BkR2J7BLywkTq_KIkT4fD3QqaZ8jn40QnCpmiaufJ1oVw2rzKl9QFNvXRMOYsMEj9ZgJkVFka2zfkqn24UbFQ8MklDESX2iyC6eaStJQNmLBX6bkGWdTpbH_r/s1600/DSCF0011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkw-rlwxY91-HXev3GRq5BkR2J7BLywkTq_KIkT4fD3QqaZ8jn40QnCpmiaufJ1oVw2rzKl9QFNvXRMOYsMEj9ZgJkVFka2zfkqn24UbFQ8MklDESX2iyC6eaStJQNmLBX6bkGWdTpbH_r/s400/DSCF0011.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Now I'm going to go off on a tangent. Little Miss R decided to use my camera when I wasn't looking yesterday and I've just discovered this photo she took amongst dozens of others. Thank goodness for digital cameras. I do believe my darling dog is smiling- I may be biased but isn't she gorgeous.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy3-ODcN3uEunCAAna9vT-q9Alh2Yh2M5dS92yF-op1nb_Ox2jUjEmEuv4Dxbu75cdTzDG9BdmgXPJWhFdLO9Dm8vJOAEqn59bsjhJtmg9MFBpGj4hq-vICN38GoP6mvRSyK0-ZY3TDqXp/s1600/DSCF0021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy3-ODcN3uEunCAAna9vT-q9Alh2Yh2M5dS92yF-op1nb_Ox2jUjEmEuv4Dxbu75cdTzDG9BdmgXPJWhFdLO9Dm8vJOAEqn59bsjhJtmg9MFBpGj4hq-vICN38GoP6mvRSyK0-ZY3TDqXp/s320/DSCF0021.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And now I must dash as I have party invitations waiting by the front door to deliver so can't be late to school. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Have a great week, and leave a comment if you can as I love receiving them</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">xx</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Flossiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513232725297351114noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3320961614957509000.post-84304122570159329292011-06-07T10:00:00.000+12:002011-06-07T10:00:11.022+12:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-P3tYd0iZ-F9IvCl2cxSXLPcDpdrbVhT9pJmTVzXOxuQybh65gb0FAJXYK75fhhSKs8m9R1G8zcIuEEn8kyLvehy-SP42aicpD-ZLLtAvRKH7aseDJtq77TL2eVz7r-adsNJ5Qq0cwWvK/s1600/DSCF0005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-P3tYd0iZ-F9IvCl2cxSXLPcDpdrbVhT9pJmTVzXOxuQybh65gb0FAJXYK75fhhSKs8m9R1G8zcIuEEn8kyLvehy-SP42aicpD-ZLLtAvRKH7aseDJtq77TL2eVz7r-adsNJ5Qq0cwWvK/s400/DSCF0005.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Fog rolled in last night and I would have missed it if it wasn't for the pooch and her visit outside before bed. So glad there wasn't someone lurking in the trees; my best scream was ready just in case... </div>Flossiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513232725297351114noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3320961614957509000.post-64729072982714904562011-05-23T22:33:00.002+12:002011-05-23T23:05:43.571+12:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy9Clqj8RFr_DFWvz_N13MnFJboBPHLC0AYpCxPT9orzUYu6ne6t1y3rdlAHAUhYjC3Tl_tpVpCgVVtdo2h-4owtMQUT_G8ZEwcYtLxlQkIdRSdpleUmtkB_-ptFoewPTbOrHjg-bmGqZe/s1600/Scan.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy9Clqj8RFr_DFWvz_N13MnFJboBPHLC0AYpCxPT9orzUYu6ne6t1y3rdlAHAUhYjC3Tl_tpVpCgVVtdo2h-4owtMQUT_G8ZEwcYtLxlQkIdRSdpleUmtkB_-ptFoewPTbOrHjg-bmGqZe/s320/Scan.jpeg" width="229" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>My Grandfather and I , taken a lifetime ago in the 70's when I hadn't yet reached double digits. The sweetest Papa, one of 14 children, and father of 5. He shared household chores when it wasn't the norm, hung out washing, vacuumed, and always washed the dishes after every meal. He was a builder, and when he retired taught others. I know how to hit a nail home and use a table saw, while keeping my fingers attached to my hand, because of him. There were boxing trophies from his youth which never quite made sense to me as he was a gentle man, a Gentleman.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Tom, Thomas, Papa call him what you will. Scar on his back from being run down by a horse when he was a boy. Bald head with wispy white hair on top he insisted would grow back if his head was massaged. Why am I thinking about you now?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Today my mother-in-laws neighbour gave me some wood offcuts for the fire. He said "corker". Corker is a term Papa used and I hadn't heard it in over 20 years. Benzine is another but I doubt I'll ever hear that used again. Isn't it funny how a single word can bring back a flood of memories?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">According to Merriam-Webster the definition of corker is one who is excellent or remarkable. Papa you were a corker! This is a word that deserves to be used more often.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Wishing you an excellent and remarkable week</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">xx</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div>Flossiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513232725297351114noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3320961614957509000.post-76076828885419122262011-05-14T11:04:00.000+12:002011-05-14T11:04:35.863+12:00After much anticipation on my part the second of my photo prints has arrived home. It's fantabulous.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVWiGfZJ_aOseScOfgOoVu1u_09kcISR8okcrVMqUarLPKNLBVKng7hKrzVFrN7HJQFYYDHYJJwc-4kzpKEu0iLHnrUoEccvU36jIY-q1_aKl6sqINEC6nfOQmVGAU8ggypRhY0ulmD44R/s1600/DSCF0006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVWiGfZJ_aOseScOfgOoVu1u_09kcISR8okcrVMqUarLPKNLBVKng7hKrzVFrN7HJQFYYDHYJJwc-4kzpKEu0iLHnrUoEccvU36jIY-q1_aKl6sqINEC6nfOQmVGAU8ggypRhY0ulmD44R/s400/DSCF0006.JPG" width="360" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Thank you again Becky for the gift of your wonderful creations. The little doll in this image reminds me so of ones that my Nana used to crochet dresses for when I was little. Even with painful arthritic joints she would create the most intricate, delicate garments for those tiny toys, and I'd play with them for hours in the dolls house my Papa had made as they were just the right size. Barbies were far too big. I still have the dolls house, sitting in storage, and the time has come for it to be brought out and restored, before my girls get too big to want to play with it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi17mvKSF81PM-sLr6NzHsK6i9NDaL7xqiTUhJYYU2d4bVJFOrvrvtFqB3cR7zOK4gXp4sJLTM1MLctGDNWzFDw47lm6q2Gz57dp0dXm9yOtyjsMaKQbXWplM6uu7LnAGGg96mDyBr2eOlD/s1600/DSCF0002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi17mvKSF81PM-sLr6NzHsK6i9NDaL7xqiTUhJYYU2d4bVJFOrvrvtFqB3cR7zOK4gXp4sJLTM1MLctGDNWzFDw47lm6q2Gz57dp0dXm9yOtyjsMaKQbXWplM6uu7LnAGGg96mDyBr2eOlD/s320/DSCF0002.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div>This is the current bedside read. I've had been experiencing insomnia over the last month, sleepless torture, and this has cured me. The act of reading before sleeping is a wonderful antidote to stress. Actually purchased for the man but apart from a brief flick through he's never read it. I should have known as the paper (or app on ipad now), golfing magazines and manuals that come with his much loved gadgets are his preferred reads. It's a great book and gives insights into how certain images came about. Some of them are such iconic images that transport me back to the days before gadgets, and seven days a week shopping. My next read is going to have to be something I don't have to concentrate so much on; any suggestions for a good novel?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDElzBVENJEuNgmjY1zUoXeWojcoBJ34bWPNCvMX9V6DAI89dmZsg1drI-ZjaHn8WP7qNMuadOvVuEaDigu1xfIzaldk9S_vwBqdaEWEYPwJy9teVw2j2tYD2ewQAOg1zFsXI8wyXyeQ3_/s1600/DSCF0014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDElzBVENJEuNgmjY1zUoXeWojcoBJ34bWPNCvMX9V6DAI89dmZsg1drI-ZjaHn8WP7qNMuadOvVuEaDigu1xfIzaldk9S_vwBqdaEWEYPwJy9teVw2j2tYD2ewQAOg1zFsXI8wyXyeQ3_/s320/DSCF0014.JPG" width="283" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And lastly introducing a small friend that is about to embark on a very big journey. I wish I could take photos like Becky and Marti.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Have a great weekend</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">xx</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Flossiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513232725297351114noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3320961614957509000.post-86938852877676378942011-04-28T17:53:00.000+12:002011-04-28T17:53:51.770+12:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPt39IVTQWphG3NcWZEjGpXi2dRoDf3pd2p0Sh_nxmcmYhvCLqtson1Xfd3TZL0NZdpxLgaMhQc-NYMbVixNIOXEzkaECQq9Kqxb5GUE2tE9TbmS0URk2GrURvXFG5NMjVIWbD1__c2Nsc/s1600/DSCF0009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPt39IVTQWphG3NcWZEjGpXi2dRoDf3pd2p0Sh_nxmcmYhvCLqtson1Xfd3TZL0NZdpxLgaMhQc-NYMbVixNIOXEzkaECQq9Kqxb5GUE2tE9TbmS0URk2GrURvXFG5NMjVIWbD1__c2Nsc/s320/DSCF0009.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>…<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"I can tell that we are gonna be friends". #1 arrived home from the framers, a very welcome addition to the family on its temporary resting place atop the piano. (The photographer is the very talented Rebecka of Vintage Fairy Tales, and I am glad and honoured to say she is my friend.) It's actually a dark walnut frame, although you could be forgiven for thinking it's black. I'm sure the sample wasn't quite so dark.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What a week it's been in our little slice of paradise with the constant rain, flooding, and the inevitable slips. We personally only experienced the rain, the slip was around the corner a way, and the only flooding we had was confined to the wood shed from the water pouring down the slope into it, although the old roof sprung a leak in the living room the other night. My beloved was despatched with a ladder and bucket into the ceiling so the problem was minimised quickly. All fixed now and the rain has finally stopped, hopefully for a while, but probably not. A good time to stay home, keep the fire stoked up and sew. The children have had a very confined school holiday, but at least it didn't rain on Sunday for the annual Easter egg hunt. Small mercies… </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">xx </span>Flossiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513232725297351114noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3320961614957509000.post-85575388485900605372011-04-18T18:05:00.000+12:002011-04-18T18:05:00.511+12:00The past two weeks have passed by at lightening speed. What have I been up to apart from the usual work, home, trying to juggle everything stuff of life? Well, one thing out of the norm was a costume for a ballet recital that was made after much procrastination on my part. I have a fear of sewing lycra which I'll have to get over as there'll be a few more costumes to make over the coming years. The two performances of the Yellow Brick Road were performed without a visible hitch last Saturday and I had one very happy little girl. She has no fear of being on stage and I'm in awe of her confidence. Here's Miss M doing a twirl before we rushed out the door on Saturday night in all her Munchkin glory. Today was the first day of the school holidays. Rain, wind, cold, DVD's, and a roaring fire. I'm sure the girls will progress to the dress ups over the next few days where the munchkin costume now lives.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSXQpJk-FgRnWscjQBflQWg1JcDeMqCH5NB3rIg-MKQ4DkiMjopTPGpU93VeOloan-6kI5UESQB9VEFvdQO3jwg5Js6YetDXlDRa8eNFTlJMBhC3qQ9GDCTOb1tgIYljJ5lDTxw6Lu-15Y/s1600/DSCF0008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSXQpJk-FgRnWscjQBflQWg1JcDeMqCH5NB3rIg-MKQ4DkiMjopTPGpU93VeOloan-6kI5UESQB9VEFvdQO3jwg5Js6YetDXlDRa8eNFTlJMBhC3qQ9GDCTOb1tgIYljJ5lDTxw6Lu-15Y/s1600/DSCF0008.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And what else has been happening? On a particularly dreary day after my last post I had a wonderful surprise. All that we usually receive in the mail are bills, but on this day a large envelope arrived… </div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8d_PGRsUriqWI2mZqu5grKBc3XVL1n_mL75oQ6mbyXG6NvMt92eyV2rfsOxImD7qNrpdgHijyWHnkCeIbj-uE3yROsDRsbUN8siO2S3ny1twhSNg9C4GK8uM53QKaLXS-FxTvIXuVxLhV/s1600/DSCF0001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8d_PGRsUriqWI2mZqu5grKBc3XVL1n_mL75oQ6mbyXG6NvMt92eyV2rfsOxImD7qNrpdgHijyWHnkCeIbj-uE3yROsDRsbUN8siO2S3ny1twhSNg9C4GK8uM53QKaLXS-FxTvIXuVxLhV/s320/DSCF0001.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiwhh9ROyxStus9zFhiqba4b2J2MF05PTk0MTiyjwkvpoUByMoQmVfVkVNgFQYs17kV5Wxr9E4sxfENiqN5tsptkMXUl1o7vczSqlpv8pS21jwYcE_7GrfFZoF4i8AUAAJlgxhERR8fLPF/s1600/DSCF0002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiwhh9ROyxStus9zFhiqba4b2J2MF05PTk0MTiyjwkvpoUByMoQmVfVkVNgFQYs17kV5Wxr9E4sxfENiqN5tsptkMXUl1o7vczSqlpv8pS21jwYcE_7GrfFZoF4i8AUAAJlgxhERR8fLPF/s320/DSCF0002.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">...all the way from Sweden, half the world away. The postie had gone out of his way and put it on the front porch, out of the rain and I was grateful that he did. Inside was a beautifully handmade card that now sits on the mantelpiece with some other much treasured things. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqZa8DRKGatq9p4ODRPs_7HmNbDRicg8YidGKBec9d4UGfFKZ4zDp8FWwiTX0Nk_iH3xtnXNC9U31TA9_PbJxvVvNuepzlLWRWwHvtvzRgdeKWZC0yssiG6S3VHIeNy7oEWn_FeSP0Av8t/s1600/DSCF0011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqZa8DRKGatq9p4ODRPs_7HmNbDRicg8YidGKBec9d4UGfFKZ4zDp8FWwiTX0Nk_iH3xtnXNC9U31TA9_PbJxvVvNuepzlLWRWwHvtvzRgdeKWZC0yssiG6S3VHIeNy7oEWn_FeSP0Av8t/s320/DSCF0011.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Also inside is something I'll share when it arrives back from the framers, which should be this week. So exciting!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I went fabric shopping yesterday so this week my old, faithful sewing machine (that detests Lycra) is going to be dusted off again. I found some colourful brushed cotton for some new Pyjama pants for the girls, and some other gorgeous fabric for something else, for somebody else. Secret Squirrel… </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">xx</div>Flossiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513232725297351114noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3320961614957509000.post-53134228814491371512011-04-04T23:43:00.003+12:002011-04-05T07:21:36.105+12:00We've just had a wonderful child-free weekend away. It doesn't happen very often, so when it does it's embraced wholeheartedly. We escaped to Wellington via the Wairarapa. I've covered a lot of kilometres around the land of my birth but I had never had the opportunity to travel this way before, and I'm so glad we did. The first night was spent in Greytown, a gorgeous, quaint village. History has been preserved in the buildings, most of them lovingly restored. Great shopping and I'm still pondering on a coat I saw in the Trelise Cooper outlet store. Its price being the equivalent of 2 weeks groceries for the family is why I'm pondering and not wearing. Discovered also was a shop that sells limited addition Gary Tricker prints. I've loved his work since I first saw them as a teenager at an exhibition I was helping install and I've regretted not buying one then. Regrets really are a waste of time so I'll be back.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhC8Sziz0PrR7ZaAoU2C70_8GMQY8NjVmhH2IVeGYTTUPOZHsr15IXPKPb7LM0AaBxOK_yTLwzZ7rUOR4U6EsTnznzDRRumJZMg_RV60LLgTW5KumqaGjjvkV1zNIZPsOOlw_-eLhYTy6O/s1600/DSCF0003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhC8Sziz0PrR7ZaAoU2C70_8GMQY8NjVmhH2IVeGYTTUPOZHsr15IXPKPb7LM0AaBxOK_yTLwzZ7rUOR4U6EsTnznzDRRumJZMg_RV60LLgTW5KumqaGjjvkV1zNIZPsOOlw_-eLhYTy6O/s320/DSCF0003.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>We awoke to a beautiful day on Saturday for the trip across the Rimutaka ranges to the city. Featherston is a little settlement at the base of the foothills and, apologies to any one from there, it's the rough diamond waiting to be polished, compared to it's neighbours of Greytown and Martinborough. We passed an old boarded up building and my heart skipped a beat; I pleaded with my beloved to turn the car around so I could snap this. In my minds eye I can see this little gem restored. I'll need to win the lottery this coming weekend… <br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">…I digress. Over the hills and far away we reached our destination. The much anticipated first glimpse of the harbour as we sped down the motorway, Somes Island in the middle of the shot…</div><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">… Ian Athfield's ever growing house on the hill above the motorway. I'd love to explore it as it's always intrigued me…</div><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">… finally we were there, a speeding fine later, but that's another story. The hotel we stayed at was overlooking the harbour and close to all we wanted to do. Roamed Te Papa and spent some time taking in the Brian Brake exhibition. Found a great cafe for lunch, FINC(food inc. I think), and an even better place for dinner, Monsoon Poon, and my cocktail of the moment, an apple martini. Monsoon Poon call it a Jimmy Choo with a lychee at the bottom of the glass, and chopsticks to fish it out with. I'm not advocating drinking alcohol, but it was divine. Our party of 8 walked dinner off and found another couple of bars that weren't populated by very enthusiastic youth. One of them was down an alleyway with men smoking cigars outside, speaking with Italian accents; very Sopranoesque. We didn't, or couldn't, stay long as they had a private party arriving. I wonder who they were, the mind boggles.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaDOmlg6SWCZWUjMiNM-RAi0SrFhXS-AVXgqqwmJMXQcYeaGdhGJlTyIresO5p5zW2S5ANJEWTKCIBucp-3-SLK-8NB16l5hQTEjLLgb2vmDyDRWDZPxFQRvaBAGZHd4O1uJV-9fItBmoL/s1600/DSCF0051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaDOmlg6SWCZWUjMiNM-RAi0SrFhXS-AVXgqqwmJMXQcYeaGdhGJlTyIresO5p5zW2S5ANJEWTKCIBucp-3-SLK-8NB16l5hQTEjLLgb2vmDyDRWDZPxFQRvaBAGZHd4O1uJV-9fItBmoL/s320/DSCF0051.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Breakfast in the morning at another one of the many to choose from cafes by the water, and then another stroll. Wherever you go throughout the city there is sculpture of one form or another and it makes it a very interesting and inspiring environment; this is one of my favourites. It appears to float midair and is so delicate looking.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxvf3w_6LctRlDVoJxl8x9V14JQToPlkDx1Acne4UBc2It0Fg-Z07N9Dg2p5nTeA98JFOdztEsJIllWoOZAqWe1pRMl2BoG2NpMkkmh31INpG6KveHGiFZa1Ng0G8zDlqPxdsF5OIC9uUF/s1600/DSCF0050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxvf3w_6LctRlDVoJxl8x9V14JQToPlkDx1Acne4UBc2It0Fg-Z07N9Dg2p5nTeA98JFOdztEsJIllWoOZAqWe1pRMl2BoG2NpMkkmh31INpG6KveHGiFZa1Ng0G8zDlqPxdsF5OIC9uUF/s320/DSCF0050.JPG" width="318" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">I'd like one of the Nikau palm sculptures in my garden, aren't they grand. So we left fair Wellington on another sunny (slightly breezy) day, eager to return soon, and have more time to wander. To steal the words from the Monsoon Poon steps, love u long time.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT0pn-WXwUP1VJ610zLQN7i5uy01KkBGYjXb6YP_K_m91RG-cS8y4JCanVrruG-4_JEQ39LAlivmWhFtIEU2AiEL0eyQQAifnu6IhW7E9bRPirxpTIXGM_X0x8mYffRU67jsowlLbuv2kV/s1600/DSCF0059.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT0pn-WXwUP1VJ610zLQN7i5uy01KkBGYjXb6YP_K_m91RG-cS8y4JCanVrruG-4_JEQ39LAlivmWhFtIEU2AiEL0eyQQAifnu6IhW7E9bRPirxpTIXGM_X0x8mYffRU67jsowlLbuv2kV/s320/DSCF0059.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Glad to be home though. Hope you all had a wonderful weekend too.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">xx</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Flossiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513232725297351114noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3320961614957509000.post-54665407016883964602011-03-26T20:57:00.001+13:002011-03-26T22:43:52.323+13:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/u5C-YHSy3Fw?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>There's a connection I feel with Brooke Fraser. It stems back to being an eleven year old, at what we call intermediate school. A horrid boy, who thankfully I don't remember the name of, said to me "are you related to Bernie Fraser?" who was an All Black(Representative NZ Rugby player) of the time. My innocent and dumbfounded reply was "No". His answer "well your thighs look like his". It has stuck with me and I have gone through periods of loathing my ample thighs. They have come in handy for climbing steep hills so I'm at peace with them now. Brooke is a gorgeous, talented and intelligent Kiwi girl and I'm sure she would be proud to have her dad's thighs, although I think she would be tall enough to carry them off regardless of anyones comments.<br />
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Miss R and Miss M and I were trawling Youtube this evening. They and I love this and "Betty" by Brooke. They also love Lady Gaga (although Miss R said she never wanted to watch the video of bad romance again as it was scary) who is the complete antithesis of Brooke, but both hugely talented. The chorus of something in the water reminds me of the Finn Brothers (Split Enz, Crowded House). Enjoy<br />
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xxFlossiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513232725297351114noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3320961614957509000.post-89070474340038093592011-03-17T21:33:00.000+13:002011-03-17T21:33:44.435+13:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibxAT4eoM8p6_uKP1I-iFDSuz1ZAXN8ggT3LB0XIZb5hGOLL7NK2hnEpo3sgrw7gzezy_I3YDKcYRYIAXvxljK5w-tTjM5HLqcIkSIWYf3wpSI8UOCE9v2GmZ9Lt9l-jNXu9pgsIKevHXy/s1600/DSCF0013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibxAT4eoM8p6_uKP1I-iFDSuz1ZAXN8ggT3LB0XIZb5hGOLL7NK2hnEpo3sgrw7gzezy_I3YDKcYRYIAXvxljK5w-tTjM5HLqcIkSIWYf3wpSI8UOCE9v2GmZ9Lt9l-jNXu9pgsIKevHXy/s320/DSCF0013.JPG" width="247" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Miss M is in her third year at school and came home with the sad news that her book bag needed to be replaced. It started to fall apart after the first 6 months, so after a few patch ups 3 years isn't bad. She was quite keen on a full plastic number like one of her classmates has, because "you can see right through it". Mum had a different idea.<br />
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It got off to a bit of a bumpy start. When I flicked the switch in my workroom to turn the sewing machine on, the switch made an ominous buzz and ants appeared from it. Turned it off quickly and relocated the sewing machine and myself to the dining room. I'll deal with the ants tomorrow. Here is what I spent the afternoon creating, in between blowing bubbles with Miss R and checking on the whereabouts of a certain escape artist canine. It's made of upholstery fabrics from a sample book that has been deleted, so should stand up well to being thrown in a school bag and everything else my poppet can do to it. It can be washed, and above all it will protect the books which is its main point of being. Above all, it's PINK; very important to both my girls.<br />
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But the back is green. You have to make do when you're dealing with sample books. Best of all Miss M loves it and hasn't mentioned the plastic one since seeing it on her arrival home this afternoon. That is better than a "thank you" but I did get an unsolicited one of those too, a hug and a "you're the best mum in the world". I'm not, but I'll keep working on it.<br />
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From the GGG granddaughter of Margaret from Mullingar, Beannachtai na feile Padraig! Have a Guinness for me, I much prefer a glass of Gewurztraminer.<br />
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xxFlossiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513232725297351114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3320961614957509000.post-43175775068009675392011-02-28T18:47:00.000+13:002011-02-28T18:47:58.702+13:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjPOrLu6HigRJh9dCnMgXjmBCZ9V12Mw_cYufPMiB85tC7gY_f8Egogjcb3kHU4w_cbZhnDk_LSf0e5aHPlp7JW89BnyuWdfKPLnVolRFSF9wJXORcwlazrCEpibUU5LkhH5Mxw1uiNBxV/s1600/Scan+1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjPOrLu6HigRJh9dCnMgXjmBCZ9V12Mw_cYufPMiB85tC7gY_f8Egogjcb3kHU4w_cbZhnDk_LSf0e5aHPlp7JW89BnyuWdfKPLnVolRFSF9wJXORcwlazrCEpibUU5LkhH5Mxw1uiNBxV/s320/Scan+1.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Over 100 years ago. The Cathedral Tower now lies in ruin. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">A week of profound sadness has almost passed. So many have been deeply affected by the earthquake last Tuesday, many lives taken, homes and livelihoods damaged and ruined, a city brought to its knees. Like many others I watched in disbelief the images on the news, and contacted family and friends there to make sure they were okay. The wait for their replies seemed to take an eternity but we knew they had survived within 48hours, or as one put it "shaken not stirred". A huge relief; for others less fortunate this has not been the case. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">It has made me pause and appreciate the things I'm grateful for; having a roof over my head, food in the cupboards, electricity, a toilet that flushes, but most of all the people in my life. I'm thankful I have children that are healthy and happy, for having my beloved to share my life and love with, good and bad, and my dear friends for their love, patience and encouragement. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">It will take years for the pain of some to heal and for the city to be rebuilt. It will never be the same, it will evolve because it has to. Hopefully the outpouring of love and generosity that continues to be shown will go some way to help in that healing and recovery. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Acknowledge the past that shaped us, live in the present with gusto and look forward to the promise the future holds. Never lose hope.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">xxx</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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</tbody></table>Flossiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513232725297351114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3320961614957509000.post-9429559689378596502011-02-22T10:10:00.000+13:002011-02-22T10:10:15.868+13:00Some of the lovely things about living in an old neighbourhood are the history of the homes, the plants that have survived many generations and the mature trees, and sometimes making new discoveries.<br />
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Hanging down above the clothesline was this mystery that I had never come across before. At first I thought it was a pear, but thanks to the wonders of Google I found out it's a Quince. The crop isn't huge, only six fruit hang down ripening in the sun, so I think I'll just admire them this season. Can you make anything with six Quince?Flossiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513232725297351114noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3320961614957509000.post-57069340770367207062011-02-09T11:06:00.001+13:002011-08-13T08:59:45.323+12:00Life is just settling back into its normal rhythm. The children are all back to their schools for the year, three different ones so lots of different drop off and collections to do until my baby finishes kindergarten and goes to "real" school in July, which will make things easier for me. The house is quiet, just the sound of paws and claws on wooden floors as my new shadow follows me round from room to room, and the cicadas humming away outside.<br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">This is a cover I made for my diary/notebook a few months ago out of some leftover calico, a fabric marker, and embroidery thread. I pulled it out from the depths of my bag a few days ago (it already has a few coffee stains so it's looking lived in) and realised it's been too long since I've played with needles and thread, so there's a new project in the pipeline.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">About time I became a busy bee again. Day to day happenings take over sometimes and what I want to do gets lost along the way. I'm sure it happens to most of us.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But I wanted this year to be a year of harmony, so I'll have to make some harmony of my own. I'm off now to start searching through my ever growing collection of remnant fabrics, my personal stash of treasures.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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