Mis-ter Fixit, can he fix it?

It's all got a bit domestic round my place at the moment, with the knitting and the cooking and even a bit of housework (you know, where it shows...) so maybe that's why I suddenly got the urge to haul out my ancient sewing machine on Sunday. Climber needed a replacement bag for his Home Readers. It was easy enough to make. I even wrote his name in glittery purple fabric paint - possibly in an attempt to disguise the fact that my sewing skills are small and underdeveloped, possibly to give Climber the shiniest bag of them all, probably just because I can't resist decorating stuff!

While I had the machine out, I also made a little bag for my camera. I bought the quilted fabric years ago to try and make Climber's hand-me-down wooden high chair more comfortable, and then of course never got around to it. (The poor kid ended up just perching on our knees eventually; I always suspected his reluctance to eat solids well was linked to the uncomfortable high chair, and spent some of Cherub's baby bonus money on getting a proper one for him.) When the fabric fell out of the junk cupboard the other day, it occurred to me there could be more than one use for its plush purple padded-ness.

I went to visit Astrid on Monday morning and casually dropped into the conversation that I'd been doing some sewing on the weekend. After recoiling in shock she narrowed her eyes at me and demanded Who are you and what have you done with Stomper?? Well, after all, she had really only just got over the fact that I now have knitting projects in my handbag.

Anyway, so there's me, proudly wearing my new mantle of domestic goddess, when along came my stitchy nemesis. You know how, in sewing, you make a strap by folding over a long thin piece of material, stitching it up the long side and one of the ends and then you turn it inside out? Well that's what I was doing, but I was finding it ridiculously hard to do the turning-inside-out part. I had my knitting needles jammed up it and was trying all sorts of pinching, and pulling it, but the turning-inside-out rate was approximately one millimetre per half hour. I was getting pretty fed up with it and muttering to myself There must be a better way!! and wondering if I should go and bug someone who knows about sewing, before just putting it down in complete boredom and wandering off. As you do. Well. As I do.

When I was leaving for tap-dance on Monday night, I happened to mention to Fixit that I was having trouble with it. And because he is Mister Fixit and he can't help himself, he said Bring it here. So I did, and I showed him and explained how hard it was. And he frowned at my poor technique and started pulling out all the hours of hard work I'd done (all 4cms of it) at which I protested weakly as I was walking out the door.

I was less than 4 minutes in the car when his text message came through. Done it.

Humph.

Chosen.

The MAP has worked, and Fixit has booked himself in for next month. I'm 95% relieved.

Sequel Best

Epilogues to a couple of previous posts. (links in the titles if you need). One happy ending, one ambiguous.

Baked Risotto
My Aunt Anne was very excited when she popped by my house on Thursday to tell me that the local kitchenware store was having 40% off Chasseur products. She doesn't mind a bit of bargain-hunting, my Aunt. So the next day Cherub and I met with Anne at the store, where the Bargain Gods looked down and smiled on me - hiding at the back of the boxes of cast-iron casserole dishes was a 27cm oval french oven in blue for $119. Which was actually 50% off the RRP. And the store-owner was happy to honour that price.


I christened it that very evening with Bill Granger's Exploding Baked Zucchini Risotto, and the next day with a Beef, Beer & Bayleaf Casserole, which was delish.

Also, thank you to Tanya & Crafty for bestowing honours upon me.

It seems fit to mention this here, owing to the fact that Tanya basically gave me the award because of my crockery smashing credentials, and without Crafty I would not have been able to christen the new casserole dish owing to a temporary parmesan cheese shortage whilst Cherub was sleeping. Fortunately her fridge was well-stocked. This award has spread faster than Equine Flu so I didn't think I'd pass on specifically. But you know I think you all rock.

Dem Bones
The tap student I've been so worried about has now been diagnosed with osteoporosis. Brittle bones. She is in the first stages of it so provided she is scrupulous in her management of it (calcium supplements etc) it may not be too dangerous, but it presented me with more to worry about. Not being a doctor I'm not sure how I should be directing her to modify what we do in class to minimise risk. For example, would jumps be high risk? Or toe-knocks? Anyway, her particular class is a sub-contract for me, rather than at my school, so I had a discussion with the Academy's Principal about how to manage it and the upshot was that we requested ongoing medical certificates and a signed waiver about dancing-at-own-risk. Sounds fair enough, doesn't it? But it upset her quite a lot, made her feel she was being singled out and that she should never have been open with us about her health. And she was also very insulted about the implication that she would ever do something like a lawsuit. So tricky. The thing is, she WAS open about it so it would have made both myself and the Principal negligent if we didn't seek medical certification, surely? It's horrible having to be hard-line about this stuff. I like this student and appreciate that she has been honest with me, but have ended up punishing her for it.


I have one more sequel for you, to do with this story and this one but that's a whole 'nother post.

My Sister and How she Foiled the Bad Guy.

For Flashback Friday the theme was T-shirts and I don't have any photos of lairy shirts to share. But seeing as how my little sister is about to celebrate her birthday I thought I would share a little flashback about her.

When Mum was visiting at the start of this week we had a discussion about travelling to school. Fixit and I elected to send Climber to a school that is 'out of area', and therefore he is chauffeured like a little prince every morning; but even if we lived round the corner I would still be escorting him from our front door to the schoolyard. I would not be letting him walk or ride on his own, not yet anyway. Whereas Mum thinks that her parents never took her to school, and from an early age she was negotiating trams and buses to travel to the Catholic school several miles away. My sister and brother and I fell somewhere between these 2 extremes.

Canberra, being a planned city, was full of bike paths and underpasses so in theory you could ride or walk to school in complete safety, without ever having to cross a road. Possibly the next time they plan Canberra they will rethink the underpasses as they became a really good place to smoke cigarettes or take drugs or beat people up; this was also true of the city's massive stormwater drains.

Anyway, one day while she was still in Primary School my sister was coming home from school with her little friend Nancy. And Bronnie can patch up the holes in my story if she pops by the comment box but I think they were stopped (possibly in an underpass) by a Bad Man. And he wanted Nancy. So he tried to get rid of Bronnie and repeatedly told her to go away. But she had a gut instinct about him so she stood her ground and Would Not Leave Her Friend. And I suppose the Bad Man gave up after a while, or maybe a passerby came past, but Bronnie and Nancy made it home safe and sound. And when the parents heard the tale, the police were called, and I remember them coming to our house to interview Bronnie, and turns out she'd been able to describe the man well enough for the police to be able to catch him. One less child m0le$ter on the streets, thanks to My Sister.

She's good like that. Probably the most loyal person I know. Strong-minded. (We used to call that stubbornness). Sometimes her life is difficult, with her diabetic child and the juggling of relationship, motherhood, work and following her dreams. But she's always there toughing it out and doing what she thinks is right.

Happy Birthday Bronwen. Keep up the good work! I love you.

Works in Progress

Seems we all have our own little projects to be getting on with here at Chez Fixit. Here's mine. It will be a pair (when I knit the other one) of wrist-warmers, a'la Pea Soup. I'm feeling very happy with this knitting lark, it's quite absorbing. Over the weekend I got to grips with ribbing, casting on and casting off!! - provided I have the support and expertise of Jenny or Craftymum nearby. They've had to rescue my masterpiece on several occasions. I am liking my ball of Kmart wool too, I think my wrist-warmer resembles a Monet sunset.

My mum has come to visit us for a few days, and it's lovely to see her. Her work in progress is Cherub's hair, which she likes to brush. Must be to do with him owning such a wild tangle of curls. I haven't seen Mum following Climber's dead straight mop around with the hairbrush..

Fixit's work in progress is a new hobby - indoor rock climbing. (Proof that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.) His other WIP is recovering from muscle-ache post the rock climbing session.

Climber has been dabbling with non-fiction writing lately. He is currently working on a typed Science Book - it's all about cells - and he has also started a Spell Book. (I've added in the correct spellings for those of you who are not Harry readers.)

I found another of his works in progress, which is a follow-on from an idle conversation between Climber and myself recently where he wondered if a one-limbed octopus would be called a uni-pus...

And Cherub has been working on a song. It's called The Fixit Stomper Song and he accompanies himself on his little ditar. It goes :

strum Fixit strum strum Sto-o-mper strum Fixit strum strum Sto-o-mper ...

... for quite a long time. I think it's my favourite song in the whole world.

Climber accompanied him on the straw.

Flashback Friday - Group Photo

Back row L-R Me, Robyn, Bronnie, Kylie, Front row L-R Patricia Tracey & Michelle

The theme for Flashback Friday this week is Group Photo. This was my softball team back in Canberra; a mixture of my friends and my younger sister Bronwen's friends. It was the last day of the season and we'd done quite well considering what a scratch team we were.

I love softball. I'd probably still play it if there was a nearby team and I had any free time. I was a district representative for an under-16 team that played in a big Melbourne Competition (we were billeted and everything!) and the coach used to put me as first batter because I'd hit anything and was never scared. My favourite fielding position was Catcher; you had to be able to throw to 2nd base to stop runners 'stealing second'. There was a huge amount of bluff associated with this. When you warmed up, pre-game, you put in the effort to send a good hard throw to 2nd base so that the batting team would be too intimidated by your good throwing arm. Once you'd done the good throw in the warm up you could merely jump up with a menacing look and the would-be stealers would slink back to first base and never test you out.

For a change I know what year this was taken because my hair is still braided (or French plaited as we called it) from my Year 10 Formal, which means it was 1982. That was the year I was the lead in the school play and therefore more popular than I'd ever been at high school, which I did not realise until too late. It kind of hit me after the play, because suddenly cool kids smiled and talked to me. And then at the formal Ben Welze asked me to dance with him and he was the best looking, sportiest, coolest, everyone-likes-him boy in our year. I was so shocked. I didn't really know what to do. I think I danced with him without exchanging a single word. It's possible that I barely looked at him.

Definitely didn't get to second base with him. Nor first neither. *sigh*

I'm the guest tyrant over at Sussanah's for Come The Revolution Friday.
A place where nobody dared to go, the love that we came to know, they call it Soozadoo
(that's for my BFFF Nell who did not sleep wiz ze Frenchman)

Alors.

We have had a Frenchman* staying at our house for the last few nights. I tell this to my girlfriends and the first thing they ALL ask is:

"Is he cute?" **

Who cares if he's cute!?!? It's all about ze beautiful accent, non?

Thees ees 'im. 'Is name ees Laurent. (Or De-won if you are Cherub)

He also plays the didgeridoo.




*backpacker who worked in the bike shop with Fixit then travelled halfway round Australia - he needed a bed before he flew back to France.
**in some cases the question was immediately followed up with : "is he single?"