My Creative Space - Crafters Starteritis

Preface:  Aside from my infrequent ramblings to the blogosphere, I also keep a journal which listens to all the unwindings going on in my head.  I came across this one from May and thought I might share it with you here.....

Friday 20th May 2011
Today I have Crafters Starteritis ADHD.  Onset began last night as I was waiting for sleep.  Ideas spinning in my head.  Good ones!  This morning, first thing, I drew them down before they slipped away.

It began with the thought that Ari's handknit socks needed new feet.  So I'm thinking the best way to approach this - cut off the foot - don't worry about unravelling. So then what can I do with the offcut?  Could it be put to any use?  And what about those big brown woolly socks I cut up to make elbow warmers from the legs?  Aha!  Slice the feet through and use the resulting fabric (which is felted from washing anyway) as insulation in an oven mitt - a pair!  Perfect.  Then thinking about how it peeves me to keep throwing out socks - odd ones, holey ones.  Don't want to make a sock snake.  Oh!  Got it!  Cut them into rings.  Knot the rings together to make a rope.  Braid them and sew into a mat.  Then thinking about knitting 'cause I just bought some cool cotton/bamboo mix yarn - multicolour orange, pink, yellow.  Pants for Marta?  Bought it for a dishcloth.  Is it wrong if the baby's pants match the dishcloth?  Well, maybe use a different colourway for each if this yarn kits up well.  But maybe cotton is too stretchy for pants on a soon-to-be crawling baby.  What about some dark grey 4 ply longies with pink stripes.  So pretty.  Oh, the choices!!!

So today the dishes have been piling up because all I want to do is MAKE SOMETHING but can't decide what to start with.  Cut up a few socks from the odd sock basket to trial and it works well, looks good and I think will be a good bath mat.  Move on to the next thing.  Laid eyes on a length of fabric I bought for a doona cover.  Looking through the cupboard for good contrast fabrics.  Found lots of pieces for pants for Marta and a skirt for me (or crazy trousers).  Still looking for contrast fabric.  Move on to the box in the hallway (the one set aside to take to the op-shop).  Nothing there but found some more pieces I liked for other projects so kept those pieces out.  Move on to the cupboards in the back room.  Nope, not there either but remembered I wanted to look for some fabric for a table topper for Jovanka's bedside.  Pulled out a few options for her to choose from.  Oh - and there's the flannelette for p.j's for them all.  Pull out a pile for them to choose from.  Interrupt their play.  They must CHOOSE NOW!!!!  Choices made.  Move on.  A game of Jenga on the loungeroom floor with them all.  Marta happily clacking a couple of blocks together.  Another game.  Dinner on.  My goodness the kitchen's a mess. Hmmm.  Think I have some p.j. patterns.  I'll just go and look.  Perfect.  Boys size 8 for David and I can adjust for Ari.  Girls size 1-4 for both girls.  Excellent.  Won't need to make my own patterns after all.  Blow!  Can't cut anything out now.  Dinner nearly ready.  Table's a mess.  Dishes all over the bench.  Marta will soon need attention from her Mama. Make a quick salad.  Thoughts spinning in my head.  Write it all down.  So!  Nothing started.  Fabric out for a dozen or more projects but no time or space to do anything RIGHT NOW!  It's my own SPACE-TIME continuum whatever that is.  SPACE, TIME and ENERGY.  It's a rare opportunity to have all three at once!

Dinner time but the table is still covered so it's dinner in the loungeroom watching Masterchef.  Oh well.  It's Friday....

What I learned today.

It was a toss up today, whether to join in with the 'this moment' action over at soulemama or to write something more.  I decided that today, I have too much to say, to say nothing, because today I learnt something worth sharing.

In the past when something which should be relatively easy, like undoing a knot or disengaging a couple of pieces of lego has turned out to be annoyingly not easy, I have, more often than not, found that muttering "come on" to myself or, more precisely, to the object in hand, to be very effective.  I have taught David this little trick and I often see him putting it to good use.  Ari, for some reason, does not seem to have need of it.  Things fall into place for him.  He is charmed it would appear.  And Jovanka, as you will soon learn, has her own device.

To give you an idea of the tone required, in case you should wish to employ the "come on", the best I can think of is this.  Think of Lleyton Hewitt, if you follow tennis (which I don't) and the aggression of his now famous yell "COME ON!!!"  Well, that's not it.  In fact I find that this can exacerbate the problem.  In my case, it just makes me more angry.  It's more like Eliza Doolittle in My Fair Lady, when she's at the Ascot Race Day and her horse is racing.  It's that quiet, hopeful "come on" that she utters shortly before letting fly at the top of her voice with "Come on Dover!!!  Move yer bloomin' arse!!!!!"

But today, whatever tone I was going to use, it was not going to open the door on my front loading washing machine.  The one that had just finished washing a load of sheets.  You see, the catch has been broken for some time and had been temporarily fixed by a very resourceful friend who knows how to fix just about anything, although never in quite the way you might expect, and certainly never in an orthodox fashion.  His solution was to wind a bit of nylon string around the catch and then through to the front of the door so that pulling the string released the catch.  It was meant to be temporary but it has been working so well that I don't generally think much about it and had not had it properly repaired.  So yesterday Ari thought he would help out by filling the machine with some washing from the basket and, in the process of trying to close the door, pulled the string out, couldn't work out how to fix it and wandered off.  Before I loaded the sheets in this morning, I fixed the string back in place (feeling quite proud of myself for being able to fix the problem relatively easily), closed the door and left the machine to do its job.  When I came back to unload my clean sheets, the door would not budge, no matter if I pulled on that loop of nylon string until it cut into my fingers.  I suppose the saying "Pride comes before a fall" exists for a reason.  Because it's jolly well true.  I did the obvious thing and went to the kitchen for a knife - one of my often-used 'handymama' tools, to see if I could weedle away at the catch from the outside and release it.  Nope and I was getting worried that the blade could snap so I went for a screwdriver but still no luck.  And my very resourceful friend was off being resourceful in a distant town, with his mobile  phone turned off.  (Could it be that he sensed something?)

The man at the electrical repairs shop probably heard the frustration in my voice when I rang to see if they could send someone around to fix the problem.  I wasn't expecting immediate service - some time today would be okay.  But no.  He answered calmly that they couldn't possibly have anyone here before next week sometime - mornings would be preferable.  This man has maybe never smelt a load of wet sheets that has been locked up in a machine for four days.  No sympathy what-so-ever.  I returned to the laundry, wielding the screwdriver menacingly, aware that I should probably step away from the situation and come back when I was a little calmer. Ha!!!!  After several more attempts which, in retrospect may have done more damage to the machine than actually fixing anything, I was getting pretty cross with myself for being so complacent about the 'temporary' fix and was muttering all sorts of things to myself about my own stupidity.  Soon after that I was kneeling in front of the washing machine in tears, giving in to the anger. 

That's when it dawned on me.  When Jovanka, my three year old daughter is feeling really frustrated, she lets out a very vocal,  but thankfully brief, scream of rage.  It seems to work for her.  "Why not?" I thought.  So I let rip.  Loud, brief and venting all the rage I felt at myself and at this 'stupid' washing machine.  In that moment, I pulled on the string and blow me down if the door didn't swing open, freeing my washing from the threat of everlasting stinkification.  I would have laughed victoriously, had my washing not been sitting in a pool of water at the bottom of the machine because it had not drained properly, meaning that I would still have to ask the repairman to come and fix it - probably "next week sometime - preferably mornings".  So I fixed the string again, taking care to do it right this time and to TEST IT before closing the door once again, setting the dial to spin and walking outside to reassure the children that Mama was okay.  They received the explaination for my outburst with good humour and at least attempted to laugh with me as I explained that I had got the idea from Jovanka and that it had worked amazingly well.  Our neighbours may have been a little more concerned.

After all that, I was free to go and prepare our morning tea and sit out in the Spring sunshine, making a daisy chain to adorn Jovanka's wrist.  My thankyou gift to her for a most valuable lesson learnt.