a polyester moment...

i had a polyester moment recently, 'twas not my first, for a few years back i had another. i would of course rustle around in my archives to retrieve the moment but alas, i fear it would take me forever and a day, so please forgive me if i do not. but please take note, that polyester moment still lives happily in our home.

my polyester moment took me quite by surprise. there i was doing what i tend to do when the weather is pants, the daylight hours are short and i should be doing a number of chores which are piled up mocking me... i am dallying with Mr Procrastinator. i give the impression to others within Mossy Shed i am hard at work doing nitty gritty things upon lappity laptop and not as i actually am. avoiding the chore list and browsing the vintage aisles of Etsy. i plumbed in one of my usual searches, started to scroll and there, right then, i gasped. i did not gasp my gasp actually out loud, for fear of attracting attention from others to my window shopping ways. no sirree! i gasped my gasp internally and then i clicked.

surely to goodness, never had such a fabric been found before. the most beautiful coral pink and turquoise sprigs dancing across a background of black. oh me. oh my. everything my fabric loving heart desired at that moment. i did not need to read further for i knew, yes, i knew with such a fabric find, it was not possible for all the 'floral fabric finding stars' to be aligned at once. no, one little star had to be elsewhere doing a bit of aligning for someone else. and yes, there was the word, 'polyester' jumping out at me.

i pondered the predicament. the most loveliest black floral fabric i have ever laid eyes on, its potential endless except for one thing, actually quite a big 'one thing'. it was not cotton. my risky ways of late led me down the path of thinking, and that thinking told me. was a small detail, pay no heed and i could work around the little hiccup.

upon arrival on my doorstep, packaging unwrapped, i had not been mistaken it was indeed the most beautiful of black floral fabrics and it was quite a length i held in my hands. also i was not mistaken, it was indeed the most polyestery stretchy fabric of all time. yet, the pattern and colours were so perfectly perfect and the saying 'where there is a will, there is a way' kept on piping up in my cogs, so a bit of wandering around led me to note, this length of floral delight was the exact same size as our family room window. the window which up until recently had been surrounded by retro wallpaper and which now was hidden from view by me and my white paint rolling antics of several weeks back.

in a trice, quite possibly a bit longer but i do like the word 'trice' and i do feel that is what it felt like time wise. so that is what i will go with... (plus it rhymes with mice and i do like mice, i also like the little shrews we have around here. one such little shrew fellow i found in my laundry room recently, he was most concerned about life and i said "little shrew, do not fret, do not panic, try to stay calm, less your heart gives out and i will have you out of here in a trice")

so you see 'trice' is a most useful word and one which should be used more often i feel...

in a trice, armed with some twill tape and handy help from Miss Ethel, a pair of black floral fabric drapes hung at our window and as i stepped back to admire their florally, perfectly coloured, spriggy ways, (choosing to ignore the static shock i received whilst hanging them), i wondered to myself, if polyester curtains would indeed, make a comeback one day...

risky biscuity business going on...

last night i got a calling, it was most inconvenient for several reasons. firstly it was cold, wet and dark outside and secondly i was cream crackered. however, there is something about the call of the thriftstore i am unable to ignore. i looked at the clock and the clock face looked back at me. 6:55pm. i dug deep and rustled up all of my super thrifty energies, told my clan i must leave the shed due to 'a calling' and promptly gathered up my bag, clog boots and newly finished crocheted scarf. 

what i truly love about shopping in our thriftstore is, basically it does not matter in the least what you look like, does not matter you have been up over 12 hours, look like you have been dragged through a hedge backwards and are indeed doing a jolly good job of looking like an old bag lady. no, indeed i find myself feeling far more at home wandering the aisles of our thriftstore any day or eve of the week as opposed to the aisles of the local shopping mall.

upon entering the thrift store i decided to throw caution to the wind and change up my usual route. now this route is one i have done for donkeys years and so it was rather a risky biscuity sort of thing to do. however dearest reader, that is the kind of gal i have become of late! 'taking risks such as these as one never knows where they may lead', is my new motto...

this risk led me first to the jewellery department, feeling sure a granny brooch or two had sent out the calling. after perusal of the bling area, this appeared not to be the case. i went on my way to clothing, i doubled back on myself just in-case i had been negligent in spying a frock on the rails of despair. alas no again. i pottled through bags, on towards shoes, visualizing the most peachy pair of clogs waiting for me, having sent out the signal earlier that eve. again, nothing. i began to wonder if my risky ways of changing my usual route had cast a terrible curse upon my thrifty luck. i told my inner voice, to bugger off and carried on. through linens, towels, doilies via pictures onto vintage books, round the corner to the final 3 remaining aisles. wooden delights lacking, vases quite frightening, crockery most lacking and the forsaken ceramic souls, all forlorn in a row. 

i stood for a while, took stock of the situation i found myself in and pondered my next move. surely i had not been mistaken, surely the call had come through loud and clear. had i lost the plot completely... in all my born thrifting days, a night such as tonight had never happened before. then i cleared my mind and i listened and there it was, a little call. i retraced my clippity clopping clog boot footsteps, took a left down the cook pot and plastics aisle and there it was, tucked under several layers of friends, hidden from view, a most perfectly peachy tray of the most perfectly peachy floral design 

with the most perfectly peachy label,

now doing a perfectly peachy job of jollying up our table and our shed

proving to me, my new motto is a mighty fine one to adopt and one i will keep for a while....

mr wintle & me...

i found mr wintle
through serendipitous circumstances.

or rather mr wintle found me.

at the time, unbeknownst to me,

he was to become a most important factor

in my turning point.

upon discovery of mr wintle 

i tippity tapped out his wise words

stuck them on the wall 

and stared at them blindly 

everyday as i ate my lunch

i read and i re-read his words

and i could tell,
 here was a fellow

who knew what he was talking about.

months past and with it

mr wintle and i shared many lunch dates

one day, not less than two weeks back

it happened,

as the pesky voice inside my head

questioned once again

"why bother Tif?"

and once again
 i found myself listening
to said pesky voice...

mr wintle piped up in my head, 

clearly and precisely

with just the one line

"if you think you are beaten, you are"

and it was all i needed to know,

in that moment,
i could see,

not only would 

mr wintle and i be firm friends

forever and a day

but i had turned thee corner.
a corner i had been looking for
over the past months,
ney years

at last i had quietened
the pesky voice of doubt,
and i could continue
on my quest for my lost little light,

knowing the healing process 

could now begin...
with mr wintle by my side