I couldn't believe it when I read my email from Amazon.co.uk telling me I'd sold a DVD I listed for £3. I was so excited! I packed it up and took it to the post office yesterday and having sent it first class (only 78p) the buyer should get it today.
Mind, it's a dreadful film and even Michelle Pfeiffer's beauty couldn't save it. I sat through it once and never want to watch it again, which is why I liste---
Oh, but, Kellie, dear, if you're reading this, I do hope you enjoy this I marvelous film. Don't you just love Michelle Pfeiffer?
Tuesday, 10 March 2009
Monday, 9 March 2009
Hands and Heart
I've had feedback over the last few weeks about a variety of my handmade gifts that has been gratifying. It has reminded me that although handmade gifts may not be as perfect as store-bought, but they make a far greater impression and demonstrate affection far better than an easily purchased item.
Vivien says she wears her pink crocheted scarf around the house when it is cool, but she doesn't want to quite put the heat on. She's a very business-like woman, one of my former bosses, in fact. I deliberately made her scarf pink, a non-business-like colour, to celebrate her recent retirement; also because I thought it would suit her English Rose complexion.
Someone in Oklahoma asked Doris to get the pattern from me to make one of those scarves. She and Don apparently wear theirs a lot and my name gets mentioned amongst old friends when they gather.
Hazel did enjoy her homemade card and also, I think, seeing and reading about it on the internet. She said she was going to put it away and bring it out again on her birthday next year!
Joanne wrote sometime back: "I still have the Christmas ornaments your Mother made one year. We enjoy them each time they are put on the tree. For that matter, I still have the hanger you croched on over the foam you got in a Fruit-of-the-Month package and the candle stick holders that were your mothers. Many happy memories."
I'd forgotten about re-using the foam rubber packaging from the Fruit-of-the-Month boxes! That will have to have been at least 25 years ago. I told her I've been eccentric for longer than I realised...
Vivien says she wears her pink crocheted scarf around the house when it is cool, but she doesn't want to quite put the heat on. She's a very business-like woman, one of my former bosses, in fact. I deliberately made her scarf pink, a non-business-like colour, to celebrate her recent retirement; also because I thought it would suit her English Rose complexion.
Someone in Oklahoma asked Doris to get the pattern from me to make one of those scarves. She and Don apparently wear theirs a lot and my name gets mentioned amongst old friends when they gather.
Hazel did enjoy her homemade card and also, I think, seeing and reading about it on the internet. She said she was going to put it away and bring it out again on her birthday next year!
Joanne wrote sometime back: "I still have the Christmas ornaments your Mother made one year. We enjoy them each time they are put on the tree. For that matter, I still have the hanger you croched on over the foam you got in a Fruit-of-the-Month package and the candle stick holders that were your mothers. Many happy memories."
I'd forgotten about re-using the foam rubber packaging from the Fruit-of-the-Month boxes! That will have to have been at least 25 years ago. I told her I've been eccentric for longer than I realised...
Sunday, 8 March 2009
More from the Prague Museum
Art nouveau furniture has a major appeal to both Bill and me. Sadly, our house is already full of Grandmother's, Mom's and Auntie Mary's furniture, plus a few Wal-Mart/Ikea and second hand shop pieces. Otherwise, I'm sure we'd be in the market for something like this
or this
These are definitely cubist style,
even to my untrained eye.
The incredible beauty of the wood,
the number and variety of desks and bookcases was incredible.
This mirror and table set reminded more of my Grandmother's rather Baroque tastes. I know it's tacky, but I'm still drawn to ornate gold mirror frames, but fortunately, just to the mirror frames.
I didn't much fancy this bookcase, impressive though it was,
but I quite liked the idea of a reading stand.
Taken as I was to all the grown up furniture, I was really drawn to the doll furniture
I can't even imagine the lifestyle of a little girl who had a doll house filled with these ornate pieces!
or this
These are definitely cubist style,
even to my untrained eye.
The incredible beauty of the wood,
the number and variety of desks and bookcases was incredible.
This mirror and table set reminded more of my Grandmother's rather Baroque tastes. I know it's tacky, but I'm still drawn to ornate gold mirror frames, but fortunately, just to the mirror frames.
I didn't much fancy this bookcase, impressive though it was,
but I quite liked the idea of a reading stand.
Taken as I was to all the grown up furniture, I was really drawn to the doll furniture
I can't even imagine the lifestyle of a little girl who had a doll house filled with these ornate pieces!
Saturday, 7 March 2009
What Excites a British Male
Bill exclaimed that our neighbour Ian's mate had something wonderful. I stopped by the nearest window and saw Ian taking pictures, so I got my camera a took a picture, too. I can't tell you what all Bill wittered on about about it ... fully reconditioned... original... split screen....
I must admit I've never seen a wind shield that opens up like that.
I was just disappointed it didn't have bright flowers all over it.
I must admit I've never seen a wind shield that opens up like that.
I was just disappointed it didn't have bright flowers all over it.
Friday, 6 March 2009
To Hull and Back
Bill's work takes him to Hull for 2 days each week, at least until they find a full time manager. They haven't been very successful with this thus far and I have lots of opinions about that, but I'm going to keep them to myself for the moment. As Bill tends to stay overnight rather than driving both ways I thought I'd go down with him and see what was what. The Holiday Inn Express charges for the room, not by people, so other than buying my dinner it didn't cost him any more for me to go.
No one I know gets enormously excited about Hull. It's not an easy place to get to being off the main East coast train line between Edinburgh and London. It's not a touristy area being fairly industrial, though not noticeably so within the town centre. I think it's main problem is that Hull is Dull and very flat. Actually, it's not even really Hull, properly it is Kingston-upon-Hull, like Newcastle-upon-Tyne and why they don't call it Kingston, which at least sounds nicer, is beyond me.
Anyhow, I did my research in advance and found two fabric shops. Also, Beverley, a little market town about 10 miles north of Hull was a much wealthier area with 8-10 charity shops to check out. We drove to Bill's office Thursday morning. It was too early to check into the hotel and so I walked from his office to the train station. Personally, I thought £5.50 for a 10 mile journey was pretty steep but I didn't want to drive Bill's car for the first time in a new place. [Did I mention Bill got a 'new' car? He traded his little Citroen C-3 for a much larger C-4.]
Beverley is just about story book pretty. That said, I didn't take that many pictures. I thought it was a hoot they had a street named "Old Waste". I noticed they'd recently lost their Viyella shop but still had Kaliko and Jaegar shops.
I was amazed to find they had a Minster in as small a place as Beverley.
I didn't go in and now I've found their website I think it would have been good. Having seen Yorkminster and Durham Cathedral a number of times, though, I don't know how much different it might have been.
I did cover all the charity shops and made a good haul. I can't list them all now, but the 9 pieces include a jeans jacket that looks like it was made for me, several tops and a skirt -- I like wearing longer skirts and boots in winter -- and a sweater with a fake fur collar that just went with one of the leopard print tops that I wore with a black skirt when we went out to dinner. It sounds a bit weird, but it went with my reddish hair, trust me. And all for about £27.
In the last shop I overheard the volunteers talking. One was telling about their holiday last summer where they visited the Grand Canyon, Brice and Zion and all around that area. When I went to pay for my selection they asked if I was on holiday and I explained about living in Newcastle how I identified wealther areas to visit the charity shops, of which Beverley was definitely one. The woman replied "So they keep telling us, so they keep telling us". I thought about the vacation she just described and wondered what is the point of being well off if you don't recognise that you are?
It was a bright sunny day but the chilly wind was relentless. I never stopped until about 4:20 when I grabbed a cup of tea and a KitKat (the least of the available evils) just before they shut. I was pleased to be done and return to the hotel, which is right across from the train station. Bill joined me shortly and a little later we went and stuffed ourselves with peri-peri chicken at Nandos in the shopping mall on the other side of the hotel from the train station.
Bill showed me Hull from various windows around the hotel, the best of which is maybe this one with the football stadium shining in the distance and the wavy roof of St Stephens mall in the middle.
We discussed that Hull, being a major port, was bombed a lot during WWII. It looks as though most of the rebuilding happened at a time when architects were completely uninspired. On the other hand, Britain didn't get rich out of the war in the way that the US did and it took them a very long time to recover from their war experience. So much so that I've heard it said they wondered at times if'd they'd actually won at all.
Even in daylight, this is the best I could do with Hull.
Friday, after packing and putting our things in the car, I went down to the marina where Bill said he sometimes does a morning run.
I was pretty amazed at how wide is the river Hull.
I also learned that it is still a major port with more customers, I think it said, than the US and Japan combined. I found a number of nice
old, interesting
buildings
but in trying to find the fabric shop I wandered well out of the town centre into an industrial and residential area that was very depressing. There was an interesting set of buildings for sale on Charterhouse Lane that the internet says was perhaps a boarding school, a child care centre, before that a hospital and perhaps a monastery. They are listed (historical and protected) buildings in any case and though they are grand -- and perhaps the rest of that street is as well - the neighbourhood to the North and West is dire.
As I walked down New George Street I noticed an Asian lady dressed in a bright sari standing in a window. She was upstairs in one of the brick boxes the council builds for housing. I glanced up at her a second time and she gave me a small flutter of a wave from waist height. I raised my arm in return. Walking on I began to imagine her a prisoner, waving so small so as not to be seen by her horrible husband... Bill laughed at me later and said it was probably a cultural thing and she was just being ladylike. I do hope he was right and that I just have a silly imagination.
I found my fabric shop just inside the town centre from there after walking past it 3 times; there was no name on the front of what apparently used to be a small house. Somehow the overwhelming odour from one of the women's fish and chip lunch put me off buying any fabric. Beyond the smell I just didn't feel inspired or challenged by anything I saw so I kept my money and left. At that point I couldn't be bothered with the other fabric shop, which was a good hike on the other side of the hotel. From there my aim was to find a loo, grab a sandwich and meet Bill back at the car.
The drive home through the hilly green countryside lifted my spirits. I enjoy these little mini-breaks, but I'm always pleased to be home again.
No one I know gets enormously excited about Hull. It's not an easy place to get to being off the main East coast train line between Edinburgh and London. It's not a touristy area being fairly industrial, though not noticeably so within the town centre. I think it's main problem is that Hull is Dull and very flat. Actually, it's not even really Hull, properly it is Kingston-upon-Hull, like Newcastle-upon-Tyne and why they don't call it Kingston, which at least sounds nicer, is beyond me.
Anyhow, I did my research in advance and found two fabric shops. Also, Beverley, a little market town about 10 miles north of Hull was a much wealthier area with 8-10 charity shops to check out. We drove to Bill's office Thursday morning. It was too early to check into the hotel and so I walked from his office to the train station. Personally, I thought £5.50 for a 10 mile journey was pretty steep but I didn't want to drive Bill's car for the first time in a new place. [Did I mention Bill got a 'new' car? He traded his little Citroen C-3 for a much larger C-4.]
Beverley is just about story book pretty. That said, I didn't take that many pictures. I thought it was a hoot they had a street named "Old Waste". I noticed they'd recently lost their Viyella shop but still had Kaliko and Jaegar shops.
I was amazed to find they had a Minster in as small a place as Beverley.
I didn't go in and now I've found their website I think it would have been good. Having seen Yorkminster and Durham Cathedral a number of times, though, I don't know how much different it might have been.
I did cover all the charity shops and made a good haul. I can't list them all now, but the 9 pieces include a jeans jacket that looks like it was made for me, several tops and a skirt -- I like wearing longer skirts and boots in winter -- and a sweater with a fake fur collar that just went with one of the leopard print tops that I wore with a black skirt when we went out to dinner. It sounds a bit weird, but it went with my reddish hair, trust me. And all for about £27.
In the last shop I overheard the volunteers talking. One was telling about their holiday last summer where they visited the Grand Canyon, Brice and Zion and all around that area. When I went to pay for my selection they asked if I was on holiday and I explained about living in Newcastle how I identified wealther areas to visit the charity shops, of which Beverley was definitely one. The woman replied "So they keep telling us, so they keep telling us". I thought about the vacation she just described and wondered what is the point of being well off if you don't recognise that you are?
It was a bright sunny day but the chilly wind was relentless. I never stopped until about 4:20 when I grabbed a cup of tea and a KitKat (the least of the available evils) just before they shut. I was pleased to be done and return to the hotel, which is right across from the train station. Bill joined me shortly and a little later we went and stuffed ourselves with peri-peri chicken at Nandos in the shopping mall on the other side of the hotel from the train station.
Bill showed me Hull from various windows around the hotel, the best of which is maybe this one with the football stadium shining in the distance and the wavy roof of St Stephens mall in the middle.
We discussed that Hull, being a major port, was bombed a lot during WWII. It looks as though most of the rebuilding happened at a time when architects were completely uninspired. On the other hand, Britain didn't get rich out of the war in the way that the US did and it took them a very long time to recover from their war experience. So much so that I've heard it said they wondered at times if'd they'd actually won at all.
Even in daylight, this is the best I could do with Hull.
Friday, after packing and putting our things in the car, I went down to the marina where Bill said he sometimes does a morning run.
I was pretty amazed at how wide is the river Hull.
I also learned that it is still a major port with more customers, I think it said, than the US and Japan combined. I found a number of nice
old, interesting
buildings
but in trying to find the fabric shop I wandered well out of the town centre into an industrial and residential area that was very depressing. There was an interesting set of buildings for sale on Charterhouse Lane that the internet says was perhaps a boarding school, a child care centre, before that a hospital and perhaps a monastery. They are listed (historical and protected) buildings in any case and though they are grand -- and perhaps the rest of that street is as well - the neighbourhood to the North and West is dire.
As I walked down New George Street I noticed an Asian lady dressed in a bright sari standing in a window. She was upstairs in one of the brick boxes the council builds for housing. I glanced up at her a second time and she gave me a small flutter of a wave from waist height. I raised my arm in return. Walking on I began to imagine her a prisoner, waving so small so as not to be seen by her horrible husband... Bill laughed at me later and said it was probably a cultural thing and she was just being ladylike. I do hope he was right and that I just have a silly imagination.
I found my fabric shop just inside the town centre from there after walking past it 3 times; there was no name on the front of what apparently used to be a small house. Somehow the overwhelming odour from one of the women's fish and chip lunch put me off buying any fabric. Beyond the smell I just didn't feel inspired or challenged by anything I saw so I kept my money and left. At that point I couldn't be bothered with the other fabric shop, which was a good hike on the other side of the hotel. From there my aim was to find a loo, grab a sandwich and meet Bill back at the car.
The drive home through the hilly green countryside lifted my spirits. I enjoy these little mini-breaks, but I'm always pleased to be home again.
Thursday, 5 March 2009
Progress Report
I managed to drag myself out and run for 461 minutes in February. I missed a couple of scheduled runs, but it's still progress. I haven't lost any more weight to speak of, but we've eaten out a few times and I don't do diets so this may take a while longer.
I've made some progress on the Spanish, but I am behind: on page 18 instead of 34 where I needed to get in order to finish working through the book this year. It's not like kiddy learning where the lady on the TV shows you pictures and tells you what to say; this book talks about past participles, gender of articles and nouns and the lack of a possessive form, not to mention ordering of words for elegance and we haven't got to the irregular verbs yet. Here I was thinking about memorising vocabulary words... I'm not giving up yet, though.
One of the other goals I set for myself this year was to knit some socks and perhaps a sweater. I'm not as fussed about the sweater as they are a lot of work for something I already have plenty of and if they go wrong, well you wasted a lot of time - though perhaps if you enjoy knitting it wouldn't necessarily be wasted. The socks were more about learning the technical skills and having the satisfaction of doing something a bit more difficult. Several of the ladies in the sewing group have tons of experience with this, though they don't tend to do socks anymore, preferring to do sweaters and baby items. Amongst the household items we acquired from several of Bill's mom's moves were a sizeable collection of British knitting needles (mostly very small, grey plastic; American needles are more likely to be different coloured aluminum) including quite a few double pointed ones. I hadn't realised that socks were knit on several needles; I'd no idea how you could do that. Well, now I know.
When I first started I couldn't get over how tiny the needles were -- brings more meaning to the term needles. I thought they were so cute I just about talked in baby talk whilst using them. I got over that however when I started over the 4th time after dropping stitches off the ends. Then I remembered these little rubber stopper things that came with a box of needles I bought last fall from Ebay.
These socks are for me -- the ribbing is full of mistakes I couldn't see until much further on and since I'm just learning to do this I thought it best to plod along and see how it works. I wouldn't give something full of errors as a gift. Since I'll be doing well to finish this and another sock (hopefully similar only better) by the end of the year, I don't think these are items are good candidates for mass producing Christmas gifts. Bill might get some, if he's really lucky...
I've made some progress on the Spanish, but I am behind: on page 18 instead of 34 where I needed to get in order to finish working through the book this year. It's not like kiddy learning where the lady on the TV shows you pictures and tells you what to say; this book talks about past participles, gender of articles and nouns and the lack of a possessive form, not to mention ordering of words for elegance and we haven't got to the irregular verbs yet. Here I was thinking about memorising vocabulary words... I'm not giving up yet, though.
One of the other goals I set for myself this year was to knit some socks and perhaps a sweater. I'm not as fussed about the sweater as they are a lot of work for something I already have plenty of and if they go wrong, well you wasted a lot of time - though perhaps if you enjoy knitting it wouldn't necessarily be wasted. The socks were more about learning the technical skills and having the satisfaction of doing something a bit more difficult. Several of the ladies in the sewing group have tons of experience with this, though they don't tend to do socks anymore, preferring to do sweaters and baby items. Amongst the household items we acquired from several of Bill's mom's moves were a sizeable collection of British knitting needles (mostly very small, grey plastic; American needles are more likely to be different coloured aluminum) including quite a few double pointed ones. I hadn't realised that socks were knit on several needles; I'd no idea how you could do that. Well, now I know.
When I first started I couldn't get over how tiny the needles were -- brings more meaning to the term needles. I thought they were so cute I just about talked in baby talk whilst using them. I got over that however when I started over the 4th time after dropping stitches off the ends. Then I remembered these little rubber stopper things that came with a box of needles I bought last fall from Ebay.
These socks are for me -- the ribbing is full of mistakes I couldn't see until much further on and since I'm just learning to do this I thought it best to plod along and see how it works. I wouldn't give something full of errors as a gift. Since I'll be doing well to finish this and another sock (hopefully similar only better) by the end of the year, I don't think these are items are good candidates for mass producing Christmas gifts. Bill might get some, if he's really lucky...
Wednesday, 4 March 2009
Weary Days
Much as I love writing this blog, I do try to have some balance in my life and so writing it is largely contained to Wednesdays now that I have -- or perhaps Blogger has -- worked out how to schedule posts in advance. I download whatever pictures I have, look at old drafts, think about any news and then write as many posts as I can to schedule for the days in the coming week. The small down side to this is that the blog doesn't reflect our most current events.
Sometime in the last couple of weeks there was an outbreak of diarrhoea and vomiting in the residential home where Bill's Mom, Ellen, lives. Not an unusual thing to have a viral outbreak in a group home like that. They rang to say she was ill. Bill was a little dodgy around then, some of his colleagues at work had bugs -- the usual winter stuff. Just before we left for Hull, Bill called in and Ellen was better, sitting up and drinking tea. On Saturday however, she was much worse again only this time with pneumonia. The doctor rang and had a discussion with Bill about whether or not to take her into hospital. On the basis that they didn't give her any better odds of improvement even with aggressive antibiotics, that personal care in hospital is just about non-existent and that she was comfortable and very well looked after at Abbeyfield, Bill thought it kinder to let her stay in her own bed rather than subject her to the discomfort and disorientation of a trip to hospital.
As of this writing she is still with us. I saw her on Monday. Her niece, Kathleen and husband Bobby were there and with Bill and me in the room it seemed rather full. Ellen's eyes were open, but I don't know if she knew Kathleen or if she even really saw anything. Her breathing was a little laboured but she looked comfortable. Kathleen said she didn't seem to have a temperature, but she refused any liquids and has done for several days. Bill goes by to see her every day and the staff take turns sitting with her. She may get better, but at 94 it is by no means certain. So we are in a time of waiting.
Sometime in the last couple of weeks there was an outbreak of diarrhoea and vomiting in the residential home where Bill's Mom, Ellen, lives. Not an unusual thing to have a viral outbreak in a group home like that. They rang to say she was ill. Bill was a little dodgy around then, some of his colleagues at work had bugs -- the usual winter stuff. Just before we left for Hull, Bill called in and Ellen was better, sitting up and drinking tea. On Saturday however, she was much worse again only this time with pneumonia. The doctor rang and had a discussion with Bill about whether or not to take her into hospital. On the basis that they didn't give her any better odds of improvement even with aggressive antibiotics, that personal care in hospital is just about non-existent and that she was comfortable and very well looked after at Abbeyfield, Bill thought it kinder to let her stay in her own bed rather than subject her to the discomfort and disorientation of a trip to hospital.
As of this writing she is still with us. I saw her on Monday. Her niece, Kathleen and husband Bobby were there and with Bill and me in the room it seemed rather full. Ellen's eyes were open, but I don't know if she knew Kathleen or if she even really saw anything. Her breathing was a little laboured but she looked comfortable. Kathleen said she didn't seem to have a temperature, but she refused any liquids and has done for several days. Bill goes by to see her every day and the staff take turns sitting with her. She may get better, but at 94 it is by no means certain. So we are in a time of waiting.
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