Domesticali

Meet the family

A long overdue introduction. The ginger chap on the left is Reggie. His original name. And the tabby girl on the right is Toast.

So, after several weeks of cat ownership, what can I tell you?

1. I thought we weren't going to be allowed to take them home at all when Johnny asked in a loud voice at the animal shelter 'Mummy, can you eat cat?'.
2. Naming by committee is a dangerous thing. Toast was half of the 'Marmalade and Toast' suggestion by Anne. I feel I will be explaining that name choice for some time...
3. Confronting a litter tray first thing in the morning is a real downer. They are now free to roam outside, but somehow still prefer the indoor facilities. I am on a mission to put an end to this.
4. They are camera shy. How did I not think to have screen-tested them before we adopted?! But then, I also failed to put 'as photographic props'  on the form where it asked why you wanted to re-home a cat.
5. The 'no cats on the beds when we are sleeping' rule lasted about ten seconds. I think I have pushover in cat runes tattooed on my forehead.
6. Reggie's favourite way of getting attention is to plonk his furry backside on top of the computer mouse. Evidently, being scratched with the left hand is not good enough. My keyboard is getting rather hairy.

Happy hallowe'en

It seems far too warm and sunny to be the last day of October. But yet it is. The pumpkins are ready.

Let the festivities commence.

Happy hallowe'en!

Hard shell

Yes, it HAS been quiet around here. I have had the gentlest of kind and friendly prods from some of you asking if all is well. Thank you, and yes, it is really, in the grand scheme of things.

Do you ever have a crisis of confidence? When suddenly you seem to loose sight of quite who you are or what you think or what is important to you. It happens to me every once in a while. And I look round at everyone else and think how sorted and together and assured they seem. How secure in their own skin. And I flounder about feeling out of my depth and over-exposed.

And like a turtle, I long for the security of my own shell. Where I can just read a book or loose myself in a film and not be required to have an opinion about anything at all. The good news is, I have been cracking along with my reading pile and have seen more films in the last fortnight than in the preceding 6 months. 

But at some point, you have to face up to sticking your neck back out. Because really, life is defined by interactions. Some wonderful and life affirming and others less so. But without them it's all a bit pointless. I would never make it as a hermit.

So, hello, waving from my shell and heading back to join the party. I was planning on bringing these walnuts to share.

But once I had hacked off the fibrous exteriors and broken the extremely hard shells open with a hammer (wearing latex gloves,  to protect from the yellow staining), I discovered that they tasted absolutely revolting.

And don't even get me started on the smell. I had to search my memory banks for what it reminded me of - now I think I have it. Bile. Nasty eh?

Homemade at mostly books

Usually, my world of work at my world at home co-exist nestled in their own snug  side by side compartments. But once in a while, they come together. Like last Tuesday, when we lured Ros Badger to come along  and talk to a shopful of crafters about Homemade.

I know lots of you have this book already and enjoy it for the same reason I do - the simple message that homemade is special. So it was fitting that we should have a very special evening, with Ros (who is utterly charming) bringing along many of the items that feature in the lovely photographs of the book. And having the time to chat to everyone, swap making stories and help us do a couple of projects from the book (that's my button heart).

For me, it was also a chance to realize that there are so many creative people, and even fellow craft bloggers right under my nose. And it's doubly handy when they do a write up of the event, because there has been a little missing camera cable problem at the shop, and hence, no write up on the shop blog!

And I am so so so sorry that I didn't tell you about it here beforehand and let those of you within reach of Oxfordshire have the chance to come along. But the event sold out so fast, there was no time. I promise to do better next time.

So, the spirit of all things homemade seems to have seeped out of my home life compartment and pervaded the bookshop. First, our trophy for our mostly bookbrains literary quiz next month. It had to be an altered book really, didn't it?

I knew all that catalogue folding practice last year would lead to me making something eventually. Though I am rather nervous about taking it in to the shop, as in our publicity materials it has been billed as 'a magnificent trophy' and I'm not sure the Trade Descriptions Act would agree.  Homemade charm and magnificence are not quite the same thing.

And then, I get to run my own event for the bookshop - a pre-Christmas evening of craft, where hopefully we capture the same spirit of camaraderie as Ros' event managed to. And make a whole stack of recycled and upcycled decorations for the  Christmas window.

I imagine there will be some of this

and a blizzard of paper snowflakes. And any other wonderful ideas I can dream up between now and then.

But before I get round to planning that event, I need to make sure everyone at work  is a dab hand at making these:

because we have a little craft activity planned for the children who stop by for books at Hallowe'en.

That's an awful lot of shop stuff, no wonder there is no time left for my own making just now. Sigh.

The small spaces in between

Do you ever get the feeling that the really important stuff happens in the periphery of the day? The child, who gives you the biggest insight into their inner life in the couple of sentences exchanged as you kiss them goodnight. The planning of a whole week's worth of domestic arrangements in a dialogue carried out between the shower cubicle and the bathroom sink as the day gets underway.

We are cramming an awful lot into life at the moment. But the most enjoyable bits are often at the edges - rather like the sticky margins of a perfectly baked crumble.

Or the Toasty gloves which fit neatly into the 'waiting in the car park' knitting slot.

Here's to the tasy morsels at the edge of life.