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what is this, you ask?

. . . why this is my collection of earrings that have lost their pair.

Thank you for asking.

It is, in essence, a photographic representation of the word FRUSTRATION. These earrings all were, at some point in my life, my absolute favourites. I wore and wore them, which clearly increased the chances of me losing them. The moral of this story could be: 'don't wear earrings you like, in case you lose them'.

The leaf is the latest casualty and I am gutted.

And yes, that is a tooth you can see. It is actually my wisdom tooth (read: IRREPLACEABLE). In my youf I turned my recently-extracted wisdom teeth into a pair of earrings (with the help of a family friend who was a dentist). I was so gangsta back then . . .

On the positive, I was tidying up a cabinet that used to fall over regularly during the aftershocks (must get round to securing it to the wall . . . ) when I came across this beauty from this clever lady . . .

I kid you not, it has been lost for the better part of two years, during which time I have conducted several all-bedroom searches for it. The weird thing is, I kind of found it in plain sight. It must have slipped behind something in the cabinet and then suddenly shaken loose somehow.

Bear with me here - this will make sense in a minute. The other day I thought I had lost another freakin' earring but thankfully, after a few panicked moments, I found it when I shook out the scarf I'd been wearing.

So the moral of this story is actually: 'if you lose something, go round shaking stuff'.

observations: the years may well be short . . .

 . . . but the days - oh, the days can be long. Loooooooong. And some days are longer than others.

However, I have noticed an interesting phenomenon. While the minutes between 4pm and 6pm can drag on for an eternity, time somehow speeds up between the moment Little Man tells me he needs to go to the toilet and the point at which he actually goes.

Time goes even faster still from the point when I remove Little Brother’s pooy nappy and the moment he grabs his balls.

I am at a loss to explain this.

you know me . . .

. . . I'm not one to pass up on some brown-on-brown (with accents of brown) seventies florals. And last Sunday, at Riccarton Market and at the last Shabby Chic Market for the summer, I hit the brown-on-brown jackpot.

Two brown floral pillowcases, still in their original packaging, for a mere $2, and two fab Staffordshire Potteries mugs that may well be the start of my Staffordshire mug collection. I feel an obsession coming on.

And, because I need more fabric (like a hole in the head), some stunning floral to add to the stash . . .

(the Op-Shop Show-Off)

it's been thin pickings . . .

. . . on the scheme front in recent weeks. A lack of sleep, time, sleep, motivation and sleep has meant I've barely been capable of threading a needle. And anything I am making seems to be taking an ETERNITY to finish. However, I have managed to knock a few things out, including this box for a woman who loves a frenzy of rainbow colours as much as I do  . . .

proof . . .

. . . .that the new toy box has no bearing whatsoever on how the living room looks during the day . . .