Well shut ma mouth..

Please people remind me to do this whenever I'm overcome with the need to volunteer.

Of course I'll dress a doll to raffle for the Oldies Fund.

Easy job, just a dust off and fix the hair in a new style until the lace disintegrated in my hands and it was a full on velvet bodice, sleeves, new petticoat and re-style the hat. Don't forget the hair.

And then I forgot to photograph the before but I'll remember to get the after.

My fingers have no finger prints just needle holes from sewing velvet. I was going to do it on the machine but everything is so small that I probably would have sewn my fingers to the fabric.

Five hours so far and the bodice is still not finished because I keep re-inventing the pattern and I lined it in satin. Now I've just re-thought the sleeves into something more "Gone with the Wind".

There'll be no buttons, the tart's being stitched into this new outfit and that's that. I have 3 days to finish the job.

I would have had more time but two days at Southland put paid to that. Lovely taxi drivers on Thursday who waited for me everywhere but absolute bastard on Friday who tried to take me via Sydney. Coming home I got a regular who asked if it was home or the Home, he got a tip.

The reason I had to make a second trip was Harris Scarfe who have just lost a customer. The junk mail arrived on Wednesday with dustbusters at half price, so off I go Thursday to find one and only one on the shelf.  Nothing in boxes so I had to pack it myself and never thought to check for the charger or the attachments neither did the checkout staff when the damn thing turned itself on in the box.  It was only when I finally got to have a good look at the booklet and it said that first charge should take 12 hours that I twigged it shouldn't have switched on at all.  I asked for money back and bought another one on ebay, not the same brand but cheaper and with charger and attachments. No wonder people are buying online.

So while I was online looking for that and trying to find a Daffy Duck tie for mother to give to Doc Marvin for Christmas, it was "oooh shiny" more patchwork fabric.  Lovely for gift I want to make for favourite cousin.  Sister is getting a brick in the back of the head. This is why I buy her birthday present in January because by September I'm never speaking to her.  Nearly at the end of October and I had to ask if she liked her earrrings, yes she did.  Good, cause Christmas just bypassed you.  I watched her waddle inside her place the other day and thought she's a fine one to give me diet advice. Have another ciggie and a beer, dear.  She's worried that I'll fall in a heap when I don't have mum to look after, bwahahahahahhaha!!!!!! I phoned mother and told her my Christmas present was a year's subscription to New Scientist and signed up.  My brain is being re-booted.  Then there are several quilts at the design stage, my glass paints remain untouched and jewellery projects still litter the dining table.  Oh gee, gosh, what will I do with all that time on my hands when ma finally falls off the twig.  Then there's the whining about her working for 35 years which she could only do because guess who was looking after her kid, the same 40 year old I just had in the nest for two years.  Oh for Goddess sake, if I keep going like this I'll be off gift wrapping that brick.

Funny thing though, apparently I'm going through all the stages of post divorce trauma.  I must admit after two years of having someone in my house that I didn't really want forever, it is just like after Count Crapula left.  The relief, the silence, the being able to sleep all night and with no nightdress to strangle me.  I think I'm just up to the angry bit that two years disappeared without me able to do the things that I wanted.  I missed the crying/sad bit although last night there were tears when I was up a ladder putting in four new light bulbs and no tall person around. I have two bruises across the shins from leaning on the top step.  Then I had to get up again because I'd put a 100 watt bulb in and it was like a gulag sleep deprivation room. No, not a sad, definitely at the angry spitting chips stage because of the weight I put on while he was here. Yeah my fault for putting food in gob but without drinking and smoking, okay the gambling yes, it was my coping mechanism in lieu of opening a vein.  It's getting better, 6.37 and I haven't thought of chocolate all day, bugger, now I have. Damn, not even a chocolate button in the house.  Not even a frozen lamington.  Frozen berries though and yoghurt.  And the promise of a kitkat with the Sunday papers.  Just. Not. Tonight. 

Going now, have to wrap a brick.