Return of the Op Shop Karma

Lady Di wannabe (aka the Bosnian Orphan, aka Shorty),  and I hit the oppy again last week after a long hiatus. Frankly I haven't been up for it and I felt my opping mojo was perhaps compromised.

Imagine my barely contained excitement when after a brief round of the premises, I spied a WASHING MACHINE box full of vintage fabulousness. In fact it seemed to be from the one nanna source.

 Some had already been sewn into pillowcases with ric rac borders. Another woman was already sorting with trembling fingers. I hoped her two energetic toddlers might melt  down so I could take my turn like a lesser hyena at a kill on the Serengeti.
Op shop etiquette held me back till she looked up with the dilated pupils of a fellow fabric addict and asked me to please take some as she was already out of control and had to put some back. She added, as if to excuse her excitement, "I make bags for the markets."
"At least you don't hoard it in old suitcases like moi-self", I thought silently.

There would be more but for the inexplicable fact that one of Ron and Brian's lovely assistants tottered over and bemoaned the fact that she had to put it all on the shelf and price mark it. So she dragged the huge box of booty away from us with remarkable strength for a seventy + woman. My colleague and I took it as a sign to stop and draw a breath. Besides the toddlers were tired of the cutlery shelf by then. One of hers seemed to be trying to balance a rusty steak knife on his dummy. Another sign.

I have not made a quilt or a patchwork teepee yet as it is still lying in the back of the car under the trombone and euphonium.

Lucky I left the oppy when I did as I found this little group by the cash register. The one on the left is either a dog or a weasel. He is ours and we shall call him Dweazil. The mare-mie and foal are cute but.... 

 ...Bambi trumps horse/ dweazil every time.

There has been more crochet in the endless effort to make a beanie that fits my pin head. Fishy boy got the one on the left and Shorty's got non-bell baubles. She does look a bit like a little teapot with it on but that is, appropriately, one of her favourite songs.

 This small token got painted up in a lairy nail varnish to fulfil a Bitossi yearning. It is the only Bitossi I'll be getting for a while as I am supporting certain doctors' yearnings at the moments rather than my own.

Here it is in situ. The Noahs have left the building.

Bits about Bobs

We had an elderly neighbour called Bob. I may have mentioned him before. We always knew when it was winter because Bob would begin to wear a beanie on his slow, daily pilgrimage from the back stable door to his wife's camellia bush, tea pot in hand. He informed me that as tea was a type of camellia, tea leaves would nurture its roots. It was the only thing in his yard he continued to nurture after his beloved Peg died. He swore he put salt on the grass to stop it growing.

Bob came to mind again when the beanies appeared this week.
I also thought of him at my friend's house last week. She pulled out an ancient wooden game she had found under her own mother's house recently as they packed up decades of belongings.

Her mother was an extraordinary hoarder of the highest quality. They had found a history of hats from aunties and sisters and grandmothers that had been sported at all the big family events in the last eighty years. Well preserved in faded tissue paper and worn hat boxes, they were handed around the wake for the ladies to wear in celebration and remembrance and maybe some fun. She believed her Mum would have loved it.

 Her mother may have also loved watching these little tuppences playing with this old Bobs game that she had saved.

Table bowls if you will! The balls and sticks were all found in different hidey holes so it is now intact again. Circle of life and all that...

        

Round 2- Ding!

Guess where we were again this week? The happy clown feet were back out to cheer me as that is pretty much all you see from the big recliner rocker. Mercifully the wall telly was far away and the treatment only took three and a half hours instead of six and a half. I had wi-fi this time too so there was some Pinterest to peruse.

Chemo heralded the debut of my latest and probably final hairstyle for some time. The day before,  ever cheerful Natalie counted me down slowly through the number four, three, two and one blades. It was too patchy. I had performed too many party tricks for the boys. Do it again Mum! Show them how you can just pull it out! It is good that they are so comfortable about it, no? Fishy had seen an elderly lady reluctant to part with her last strands at the doctor a few weeks back and asked me if I would look like Golem when it fell out. I responded heartily that there would be no Golem hair in this hoose.

It started to come out the day after the last short cut and I held on a week because there was a lot of it to lose but what a pain to tidy up the bathroom each morning. I was moulting like a mangy cat. Fortunately after I left Natalie I had a couple of spare beanies in my bag having just been to the Choices clinic. Big glasses and a beanie....check you have locked up your valuables!
 Shorty announced "My not like your haircut!" I replied, "My not like it either. Shall I grow it back?" She shrugged and went to consult the Noahs. Fishy slapped me on the back and said, "Hey Baldy!" with a big grin, B2 told me I looked like a cool, rock chick and that he really loved it, bless his cotton sox! B1 and Big Fella smiled warmly and reserved the right to silence. Lala asked if she could borrow my beanies.

It felt a bit Velcro-esque with the stubble so Lairy godmother came over with shaving foam and razor and gave me a close shave in the warm Wednesday sunshine. Now it's all smooth and lovely albeit a bit white. Needs a bit of tanning on the deck, methinks.

Liberation from the stubble!

 Yesterday I went back for reflexology at the clinic because they just offer it to you and it is fabulously nurturing even two days after the keeno connection. The rainbow toes are looking a little battered- how metaphorically apt. She said our toenails are the protectors in the reflexology chart so mine are protecting my body with a rainbow. Did Shorty know about that when she asked for rainbow toenails?  Did she do a course when I was out the back?

beanie buddies

Shorty is my first beanie buddy. I made this free form sculptural thing for me then her as I had no pattern and it had a mind of its own size wise. It has morphed into an elfin thing that keeps her ears warm and she wore it all day at kindy. I may need to add embellishments methinks.

I'm a little teapot.

After reflexology I was so whacked I needed a tea and a lie down before driving home so I killed some time in the wig room getting wiggy with it you know. There was the newsreader wig, the goth wig, the sensible mum wig and the Miss piggy long flicky one that I seem to have brought home. The girls can play with my long hair still and I'll keep it for parties and frippery. It seems I am more of a beanie girl, anyhoo. B2 came to City Beach another day to help me choose some headwear as he and his posse will now receive their inheritance in beanies not useless shares!
 There was a variety of headwear at the clinic too. The wrap things are groovy but tight. My skull is not yet used to being swaddled like a colicky infant. Too pink?

 Too Nimbin (although thematically linked to the toes)?

Too Ahsoka Tano? This one has long stripey pigtails that wrap
around. If I could get the Star Wars  warrior woman stride down as well it could work. Or perhaps a pirate earring.

Ahsoka rocks the wig room

Mrs Jack Sparrow

Too Dr Zjivago meets Dr Zeuss? Why then you are poiffect and you shall be mine! It is fluffy and loose and deliciously warm and is so NOT a cancer hat that I liked it at once. It may need a huge crocheted flower pinned on one side. Suggestions?

 Last week when I had coffee for four hours with Girl Wednesday, I saw a yellow bangle in a boutique which I liked but decided I really didn't need. Driving home from the wig out yesterday, feeling nauseous and wrung out, I decided I really DID need a bright yellow bangle. It was for medicinal use only.

Chid bribe included

Ms Lairy and her daughter were there about to indulge in some French patisserie goodness. I could only watch on and consider that that chocolate torte thing had spiral eyes that were not unlike my own by the time I finished a chai latte and oozed home to bed. Two months ago this was not my idea of a girly day out but today I felt sick and still had fun. 'S not so bad!

Is it just me or is this not a spooky- eyed torte?