packing for a spot of beavering...

tomorrow, myself and Miss Ethel are leaving the shed for a visit with my adopted auntie. Miss Ethel is particularly tres delighted as she has not left the shed for a spin since last September. i am packing up lots of vintage fabrics and lace, where upon arriving at my adopted auntie's lovely old grey cottage by a babbling brook, we will spend many quality hours beavering away together making apron wraps. we are being most disciplined and will not spend our time chin wagging as we are apt to do, only to find several hours later we have achieved nothing for our time spent together other than putting the world to rights.

my adopted auntie has done a cracking job at rustling up some more lovely high hope flags to hang in the shop window. we have been most happy with how well they have sold and i in turn have been most happy with the results of cutting up all the leftovers she kindly saved for me.

little itty bitty high hope strings, all doing rather a lovely job of making it look like Spring has Sprung in my studio. which of course it has not and i do believe as tomorrow is the first of June it is likely to not Spring at all this year and now i am just hoping Summer does us the pleasure of his company before we go 'a little spare' in these parts.

the itty bitty strings are to travel the seas with me to England in three weeks time. along with the large high hope flags, they are destined to bring a certain dottie angelness to a lovely cottage by the sea. if indeed you are thinking you may like to visit this cottage by the sea and spend some quality time learning the way i 'patch and a piece' secondhand fabrics together then it would be lovely to have you join us. we still have a few places left, so if you are sitting on the fence pondering if this is something you may like to do then please do get in contact with either myself or Angela so we may help you get down off your fence and pack up your vintage stash and head to Suffolk in July. did i mention before that Our #1 will also be joining us, yes indeedy she will be my right hand man (or girl as the case maybe) and i am thinking, i could not ask for a better assistant, yes grand stuff indeed

she has packed a suitcase, just in case she is tempted to stay a while with her adopted auntie ~ Tif

a bit of 'lo and beholdness' in the shed...

do you recall a certain lovely thrift store blanket?

no need to fret about your recall skills, nor mutter under your breathe

"blimey Tif, i can hardly recall what i had for dinner last night, let alone your thrifty finds"

for i have provided an image to help, i know its friday and the week has been long so i do not wish you to have to mutter under your breathe because of me.

actually i can recall what i had for dinner last night, a rare occurrence indeed. not 'having dinner', the recalling it bit. it was a meal of orange with a hint of green. it was completely home cooked and surprisingly appealing looking, therefore worthy of recall in my mind.

however it is not about my culinary delights today, no sirree! it is all about Mille and her crocheting kindness.

upon finding my lovely thrift store blanket, then gifting it to another i continued about my life.

then one day Mille appeared, she told me how the blanket had inspired her to make one for herself and as she had trouble finding a pattern for it, very cleverly (i am thinking) worked it out from my blanket! this had me very delighted and even more so when she wrote up her 'something pretty' pattern and was happy to share it with us. thank you so kindly Mille for inspiring me to pick up Mr Hook again and others i am quite sure.

i am totally in love with Mille's use of colours, this is so often where i trip up but not today, for today i am riding high, higher than i have ever ridden in my short history of crochet riding...

for you see, thanks to the brilliant Mille, a small miracle came to pass last night in Mossy Shed.

as i sat, pondering her pattern with Mr Hook in hand and a ball of gray (see what i mean about colour), i established two rounds of petals and instead of doing as i was told and finishing up with a round of granny square to complete the one petaled square, a little voice whispered in my ear.

that little voice tempted me to do another round of petals, it questioned if indeed i could perhaps go another round or two after that. it was daring me to aim for a circle of crocheted goodness. i made a silent promise to Mille i would come back to her squares after i had ventured off with my little voice

never in my short span of crocheting career (do i have one) have i managed a circle of muchness. but i was feeling reckless, i was in my new snug, cozy, crafty hangout upstairs tucked out of the way of my clan, i was feeling anything was possible at that moment in time. the world of crocheting was my oyster.

and so it would appear the crocheting circle gods were in line, for row after row of petals and hour after hour of me sitting there listening to the early morning show on Radio 2 had me believing that miracles do happen. as i stood to go to bed, a little achy and creaky, well past my due date of hitting the sack, i laid my crocheted circle offering down and right there and then, a chorus of angels appeared, (singing quietly cause it was late) and glory shone down on me.

a crocheted circle of 'lo and beholdness' had been born and not an ounce of 'colour iffyness' about it.

she is wishing you a bit of 'lo and beholdness' yourselves this weekend ~ Tif

a two parter...

yes dearest readers, such is the extent of our 'positively beaming' in the shed these days, i must indeed break down our new/old carpet moment into a two parter. for those that have rambled alongside of me for many a year will know this here home we like to call Mossy Shed was a sad and neglected little place upon arrival of us, three years ago.

the first year we did a brilliant job at ripping out this, tearing out that and slowly but surely breathing life back into the old girl, but then as is often the way with massive remodeling sort of jobs you run out of steam and you run out of doe... leaving a nest 90% done and 10% still to go.

earlier in the year i noted to my man i felt the need to move on to another nest, for my nomadic creative soul needed new pastures green. he looked at me in horror and then voiced since when had i ever been a nomad, i who never ever leaves my nest. i pointed out it was not my actual body which felt the need to move on, but my creative spirit which obviously comes from nomadic descent and therefore requires this continuous 'to the point of obsessive' need to shuffle things around.

he then wisely pointed out we loved our shed. to which i agreed whole heartily, but then i also pointed out that certain areas of her, i did not. he then wisely pointed out it is far more savvy a move to finish up the forgotten 10% then to actually move to another forgotten soul of a home requiring 100% attention.

gosh, well right there and then was the conversation we needed to have, to pull up our knee socks. well actually my man did not, for he does not possess such things, however he does have those kind of almost calf length socks leftover from his days of wearing businessy business attire. so he pulled those up really high and they did a good job at stretching up to his knees. i did not have my knee socks on but an old pair of woolly tights, darned in the toes and lacking in elastic around the waist, thus being held up by having my undervest nicely tucked in tightly. so i pulled those up so they were also nice and properly high up, with no baggy crotch thing going on and we set to work...

the cans of white paint came out and the wonderfulness of my friend Maggi happened! after 3 years of living with a 'can't work with you as much as i try' 30 year old green carpet, this past monday, 2 men and 12 hours later we had ourselves a beige secondhand granny carpet resplendent in the shed. truth be told it had to be patched and pieced in places a carpet should not be, but we did not care, no sirree! for anything was better than what we had on the stairs, landing and three bedrooms before our lovely granny carpet came to stay.

"i have three shades of beige in my bedroom" exclaimed Our #4 at 8pm on monday after the fellows had left. it appeared he seemed genuinely delighted with his good fortune

"it reminds me of something a granny would knit" said Our #3

"do you think so! really?" i excitedly hoped so

"why yes, if you look at the self pattern in it, it looks like one of those sweaters they knit" he continued "i thought you would be happy to hear that" with a twinkle in his eye

and i was dearest readers, i was.

for in an ideal world i would have wood flooring throughout my shed, but this was never going to be and therefore the next best thing was a secondhand granny chic carpet kindly gifted to us by a friend.

today sees me 'a shuffling and a shifting' the bedrooms back together whilst hammering in nails and hanging pictures, and tomorrow the white paint comes out again to finish up the rest of the dark wood. for it is hard to remember but when we moved here everything in this shed was dark. the walls, the doors, the wood trim and the ceilings... little by little with a 'slight hiccup' in between of two years, we are back on the road to finishing up Mossy Shed and making her feel not 90% loved but 100%, just as she deserves.

she has an urge to crochet for the first time in yonks ~ Tif

footynote: just in case you may be wondering, 'cos that is perfectly okay to do, some of the best folks i know wonder often. the board at the bottom of our stairs is a 'pesky little olive' gate. thus allowing the furry feline friend to live happily upstairs without interruption from a pesky doggie... knocked together by my man and myself, no less :)

sorting and a shuffling...

we've been unplugged at the shed, whilst 'goings on' are going on upstairs. but hurrah hooray, we are plugged back in and Colin the computer is back up and running.

i wish the same could be said for a feline friend of mine who lives in Our 2's bedroom. the unearthing of his room and contents, two coats of white paint later and a carpet that does not contain his smells, but smells of another home, had him on hunger strike for a while.

however i am delighted to report as of today he appears over his 'i will not eat for my heart and my home is broken' mood. proving so by eating a hearty midnight feast and 'up chucking' on new/old carpet to christen it. after which, promptly finding my 'high hopes wrap' for a chilly day and claiming it as a cat blanket.

i will be back tomorrow with a closer look at our new/old carpet, surely it doesn't get more frilling than that i am thinking. looking at someone else's recently required secondhand carpet... some days i marvel at the level of thrillingness on this here rambly space

she is sorting and a shuffling the shed back into shape ~ Tif

rebellion in the shed...

its a little nutso at the shed, more so than usual. on Monday the green carpet of 30 years living upstairs, is being replaced by a beige carpet of 10 years with interesting self patterning courtesy of my lovely friend Maggi

on Wednesday evening, my man and i started the job of emptying three bedrooms worth of stuff and hauling it into the bonus room. Our #4 (newly aged 13) sat amongst his dwindling possessions, whilst nursing his broken toe acquired less than four hours before.

"why is everything we own look like it belonged to a granny, even the carpet we are getting is old and granny like?" he had a point, it does have a 'granny like' quality about it now i have inspected it closer, which of course i am delighted about.

he continued "every room we have is filled with old stuff, why don't we ever have gleaming new modern things?"

i looked around his room and noted he has an ikea bookcase and desk in white. the only thing remotely vintage in my mind within his four walls at that moment, was me, my man and an old pine chest of drawers loitering with intent to hold his clothes, however they have never made it that far.

i always saw ikea furniture as modern and new and i was now seeing a 'doubter' in my son.

gosh, he was my one who loved a thrifty hunt amongst the shelves of despair, finding great enjoyment with the crappity crap that lay before him. i chose to put it down to his broken toe, turning 13 and the black cloud above him talking. a rare thing indeed, for black clouds do not hangout over his head, in fact this maybe the first black cloud i have ever seen venture to do such a thing.

yesterday evening i voiced a need to go thrifting (two times in one day!), i am on a mission for materials and as is always the way, you can never find what you are looking for, only what you did not know you needed, like a cheap print of flowers in an iffy frame.

still i was going to give it a go.

"can i come?" he pipes up, which immediately made me suspect he had homework to do.

"how will you manage with your toe?" i ask

"i'll hobble around"

so i went 'a thrifting' this time with my pins of paleness and a companion hobbling. i found a forsaken little soul and he found a brilliant red Adidas jacket with LONDON appliquéd on the back and the skyline (including Big Ben) across the chest. it was in 'top notch' nick and a bobby bargain to boot. he was delighted and so was i.

ah yes, for second hand gods had intervened and his doubting ways were gone. just because something is second hand does not mean it has to be old or granny like. perfectly new looking goodness can be found too, he just needed a little reminder

someone who does not need reminding is Little Olive, who after a day of play yesterday, spent the evening wisely 'swaddled' in her home of secondhand goodness

she is most happy with the transformation of her secondhand, 'slightly kitsch' picture find of yesterday ~ Tif

pins of paleness...

today i have dared to pottle outside the shed with my pins of paleness.

a thrift store pottle no less.

happens every single year,

waiting and waiting for Mr Sun to show his warmth

and then he does,

thus resulting in me shedding my woolly skin of tights

and revealing my 'pins of paleness' to the world.

to add to my woes of exposure

the recurring issue of my undies has reoccurred.

no longer held in place by my woolly attire,

they are once again left to their own devices.

several pairs past their due date of 'high elastic retaining' qualities

are far to great a risk to wear.

the others though, i noted with their elastic still intact

appear to be a little snug,

"how can this be" i cried with alarm,

twirling around to catch a glimpse of my derrière.

i froze with shock,

for there lurking below my back was a friend,

a fast growing friend,

a 'bottom of great proportion' had attached himself to moi.

he was not there before.

i do not recall inviting him to join me

in any way, shape or form.

but then all became clear

as i frantically retraced my moments

of the past six hibernating months of winter.

i turned 42 in september.

there should be a book out,

perhaps there is.

"what to expect after 40"

turning 40: you may wish to cry, this is perfectly normal behavior for some one leaving their 'youth' behind. do not fret, it will pass

turning 41: you will by now have got over turning 40, however you may notice odd things like nostril hairs appearing. do not fret, do not renew your glasses prescription, live in denial, this is perfectly normal behavior

turning 42: your bottom will grow, you undies will dig in and sadly, your chest will stay alarming flat, thus highlighting the 'grandness' of your derrière. do not fret, nor weep. this is perfectly normal behavior for a bottom of your age. chose not to turn around and try to glimpse said growing bottom, for two reasons, it is behind you and therefore out of sight and out of mind. and secondly being 42 you now also have a jippy neck and back and it would not do to 'put it out' due to trying to glimpse your large new friend hanging on behind

turning 43: you will wake up and find your knees have disappeared...

and so forth.

yes, how brilliant is that, do you see dearest readers,

i have totally forgotten my pins of paleness now

by focusing on something else,

albeit my undies and my bottom

and indeed my peachy thrift store finds

hurrah hooray!

her lovely adopted auntie is coming for tea tomorrow ~ Tif

george and a jig...

george, a passing pesky gnome has taken a liking to our front yard.

i am thinking all the weeding and planting of late has attracted him.

do not let his cheery face fool you.

i have noted he carries a weapon of mass destruction,

has something lurking in his other hand, carefully hidden

and if that were not enough to treat him with caution.

he appears to be the sneaky type who lurks with intent,

waiting for unsuspecting grannies to do a spot of yard work

i have done several jigs today,

i think it fair to say i am not in good shape to do such a thing,

but i did not let that impede my jiggery mode.

Used Dog is banned from jigging with her jippy joints,

however Little Olive, i must congratulate upon her ability to jig like a pro,

despite her legs of little length.

so there we have it,

a short legged little sausage jigging,

an unfit, quite clammy by the end of it all, woman jigging

and a used dog of many, many years not jigging

and what, i am thinking, you may be wondering were our reasons for such jiggery.

well dearest readers, i have seen a few pages of my book

and blimey! if that isn't worth getting a little clammy,

whilst doing several laps of the shed with clogs on jigging,

then i do not know what is.

i am not sure the bit where i could not breath after several laps

was because of my complete unfit condition

or because my breathe was taken away

with the wonderful work Janine is doing with my pennings.

i am telling myself it is the latter...

she is noting Mr Sun is shinning like he means it for the first time in months ~ Tif

a spot of rustling...

i am not here today,

i am over at Victoria's shiny place.

i do like Victoria's shiny place and i do like her too.

whilst Victoria is away on her hols,

she kindly invited a gaggle of bloggers

(i like that too! a 'gaggle' of bloggers)

to ramble on in her absence

and what a peachy line up she rustled up

i was most chuffed indeed to be included in her rustling

and so i did a spot of 'rustling up' myself with a little 'how-to'

for the faded vintagey looking lanterns i did a whilst back.

she is dropping her folks at the airport and thinking the shed will have an empty feeling upon her return ~ TIF

a 'stumble of the utmost kind'...

isn't that just the dandiest thing about thrifting,

you just never ever know what might find you.

truth be told it was total crappity crap at the thrift store last night.

shelf after shelf

rack after rack

and

rail after rail

filled to the brim with crappity crap.

however as is often the way,

just when you think your chances of finding 'a find worth finding' are done for,

a little face peeks out from amongst

the forsaken and the forgotten

not just any ordinary face but quite an extraordinary face,

actually i might just go as far as to call this face 'exotic'.

yes i will.

for as i exclaimed to my mother last night, upon discovery of this little face,

and today also to you, dearest readers

"well in all my born days i have never seen such a extraordinary forsaken soul!"

she is in terribly good nick considering she has had several children

and an itty bitty baby

but best of all

she is also most handy dandy

surely, surely i am not alone in exclaiming at her exotic writing abilities.

and that is why i like the thrift store,

why indeed i am an addict,

for until yesterday i had never ever seen such a peachy nesting doll

and even more so,

until yesterday i had never ever realized

i was in need of a peachy nesting doll with handy dandy built-in blue pencil

(obviously designed for special occasion writing)

but now i do!

and that for me,

is the wonder of a 'stumble of the utmost kind'...

a 'thrifty stumble'

she is giddy with the lovely 'shout out' from Victoria and is wishing you all perhaps a nice bit of stumbling of your own this weekend, most definitely not a traumatic stumbling, no sirree! for we do not like those kinds ~ TIF

stumblings...

recently i have stumbled, several times in fact. only one being a rather horrid type of stumbling, the other two being most pleasant and one i hope to stumble upon. none i am delighted to report were the sort of stumbling resulting in a band aid...

traumatic stumbling number one:

hoppity skipping to the coop early morning i let out my chickie peas. stepping inside coop, opening up inside door i began to remove boards from nesting boxes. Little Voice is in fine broody mode so we have been monitoring her number of hours sitting in her little nesting box. i have mentioned to her daily, no matter how brilliant a mother hen she would make, those little eggs she keeps on ferreting away under her feathers are never going to be little chicks.

so as my chickens looked on with legs crossed and wishing me to hurry up, i removed one board, felt my clog sink a little, 'tis not an unusual feeling to experience in a chicken coop and therefore i paid no attention and removed the other board.

turning upon my heel, i felt an odder then usual feeling of 'give' in the ground. glancing down i saw outlined in all the dry scratched over dirt SAMUEL WHISKERS no less! under my clog, not looking good, no sirree, looking like his days were over long long ago. strangely i noted, he was completely and utterly flat. i pondered this whilst i reacted with a shrill shriek towards the shed. surely no trucks had driven through our coop to create such a flatness of him. i then wondered whilst running wildly towards my shed looking for assistance with my traumatic stumbling, if indeed six chickens sitting on a rat, could cause such a flatness of a furry critter to occur.

lovely stumbling number two:

a window in Seattle on Mothering Sunday, the window belonged to a much bigger expanse of glass in the beautiful greenhouses of Volunteer Park. this window and the nice green thing hanging so prettily has me making a mental note for the future. mental note says, our future dwelling wherever it may be will need windows of character with green things hanging in them

lovely stumbling number three:

a lovely vintage fabric and wallpaper heaven called Spinsters Emporium. oh how i love the name, as soon as i stumbled across their lovely site i wished to look inside. they have wallpapers and fabrics and courses and alsorts of vintage goodness going on. i do wish they had a club, like the old days kind of club where you could send off and for 50p get a badge and a certificate saying you were a member. i want a badge so badly saying i am a member of their Spinsters Emporium club, i would wear it with pride and note others admiring it and wondering what kind of secrety secret club it was. and only i and others in the Spinsters Emporium club would know what glorious vintage and crafty goodness lay inside of those four walls. yes, i am thinking i may write and suggest they have a club for those who feel a little weak at the knees just looking at their peachy site.

'hope to be lovely' stumbling number four:

my mother has noted to me, she has never seen the inside of our local thrift store in ten years of visiting, how can this be? we always seem to be pottling amongst secondhand goodness when they are staying. so tonight i shall rectify this faux pas on my behalf and take my folks to the thrift store, where upon i hope, really really secretly hope, that 'kind of feeling that wells up inside at the anticipation of what lies within' sort of hope... yes i hope the highest of high hopes, to do the best kind of stumbling of all, stumbling of the utmost kind, a peachy thrifty stumble of a forsaken little soul no less

she has put her folks to work in the front yard this morning, Mr Sun is out and plants need 'a planting' ~ Tif

blooming...

agreed agreed! most pants of me indeed dearest readers to not share my 'pantaloons of greatness' with you. to be truthful not a single clan member i asked late that day would record the moment for me. i am not sure if they just could not be bothered, or if they wished not to record my moment of pantaloon wearing to protect folks from the vision.

'tis neither here nor there, i will in due course produce photographic evidence of my 'pantaloons of greatness' (or as i am beginning to suspect 'glorified sweatpants') and you, dearest readers may be the judge and jury.

in the meantime can i show this pretty picture to make up for my lacking in 'pantaloon pictures'. this lovely little retro jug with the most spiffiest of rosey decals upon it, was picked up on my travels around old blighty a few weeks back. it truly made my heart sing when i spied it amongst the shelves of neglected china. it made my heart sing even more when i noted how well it suited my lovely plastic granny knicker pink flower and even kitschy-er doily which came from Spitalfields Market in London. they are now doing a peachy job of making this end of the kitchen look blooming lovely.

Mr Spring is still dragging his feet around these parts but not to worry, me and my folks have been working flat out with adding a 'blooming springy feel' out front of the shed the past few days and hope to continue doing so.

she has been told by those in the know, rain will stop the 'blooming work' tomorrow... how do they really know these things, do they just lick their fingers, pop them in the air and make it all up ~ Tif

'pantaloons of greatness'...

today dearest readers i am terribly busy beavering away on a few details to do with booky issues and whilst i am terribly busy i am wearing 'pantaloons of greatness'... i say this with great delight and somewhat concern due to that pesky fellow Mr Doubter sitting on my shoulders.

yesterday as i stood in Anthropologie with my mother flitting through the sale rail i spied some casual lightweight, 'not quite harem pants cause the bottom wasn't too loose' pantaloons. i then dared myself to try them on, now obviously trying on any kind of leg wear over a pair of woolly tights and just hoisting up my full slip, dress and granny cardi around my waist was not giving me the best of looks to judge if indeed these comfy cozy pants had the potential to make me look fabby in an eclectic bohemian way or as i was suspecting with my reflection, a rather saggy baggy bottomed middle aged woman who appeared to have left her pyjama bottoms on whilst out and about.

i took a risk, yes indeedy, i risked it for a biscuit and i purchased (please pronounce it 'purr_ chased' cause that is just how i said it) my pantaloons at their thrifty nifty half price and took them home. later that evening i stood in my pantaloons for close inspection and obvious critical eye from Our #2 and of course my mother. even when we are aged 42 are we not able to heed our mother's advice or indeed believe her when she says "well actually i think you look lovely in them, i really do"

after much deliberating with Mr Doubter, we made a unanimous decision that yes i, Tif, could indeed wear pantaloons again after many moons of never ever donning such an article of clothing resembling trousers. today as i tippity tap this, i have even been outside in my pantaloons and i must say, as i stepped out of the safe and secure compounds of Mossy Shed's acre of moss, i might as well have been naked. exposing my shape of legs from the knee up was something of a trauma for me due to hiding behind skirts and frocks. i must confess at the last moment i added an extra layer of protection, a long granddad cardi so actually it was only my front half that felt exposed to the world's glare. then i did that really scary thing one does only on rare occasions when out, for indeed there is not alot you can do about it so why bother looking, this time however i did! i looked in a shop window to see my reflection, quite convinced i would see a saggy baggy bag lady looking back, but i was pleasantly surprised, not a bag lady in sight with her baggy bottom. just a slightly quirky, perhaps a little odd, strangely eclectic and with a hint of bohemian about her, woman of an uncertain age in her 'pantaloons of greatness'...

whilst i am busy beavering on booky things in my 'pantaloons of greatness' i am delighted to say, Janine is busy beavering away on booky things her end too. i wonder if Janine has 'pantaloons of greatness'? it would not surprise me at all, for when she visited she had the most loveliest of purple boots with orange shoe laces and i am quite sure someone who wears such footwear is up for wearing 'pantaloons of greatness'. things are coming along peachy with the book, i am finishing up a few how-tos and Janine is doing her thing with the page designs. the finished book is set to be published in late summer and today you may note spread amongst my ramble, the results of many moments spent hand stitching the chapter pages, but i know you well my dearest readers and i know you are now thinking

"we do not wish to see your many moments of hand stitched chapters sections Tif! gosh no, what we want is to see your 'pantaloons of greatness' and we want to see them now!"

and i say

"all in good time dearest readers, all in good time"

she is wishing you the loveliest of mothering sundays and rather delighted to be spending the day with her own mother, the first in 10 years ~ Tif

18...

gosh and just like that another clan member reaches the grand age of 18. the sun decided to shine all day and it was a lovely day to stop and take time out to spend quality family time together and let Our #2 feel most special for her big day. my folks flew from across the pond to join in with our celebrations and i am quite pleased with myself for i only did one silly thing and that silly thing was whilst drifting off last night. yes dearest readers, i dared to count the days before she too cuts the apron strings and moves to pastures new on the East Coast.

how can it be it feels only like yesterday she was born and yet here we are 18 years on with only 13 weeks left of her in our nest?

she is thinking it is only 10 days until she becomes a mother of 4 teenagers ~ Tif

letting the cat out of the bag...

dottie angel's adopted auntie lives in an old gray cottage by a babbling brook. she spends her day wisely with hook and yarn in hand. on occasion she feels the itch to stitch and on those days she can be found beavering away with her trusty sewing machine Mr Bill making 'high hope' flags

she is quite happy to note the shop window is looking springified despite the rain outside ~ Tif