I've been trying so hard to up the number of posts, but somehow I always seem to sit down to blog and realise it's been a week since I was here last. I'm not into self flagellation but I am not at all happy with this state of affairs. Action may be required.
I think I may be losing touch with my own life.
We've just come out of a busy long weekend with two family birthdays, more coats for the floor, dinner guests and a spot of blocking.
Blocking I say. I suspect this jacket may either resemble a tent or be too small. I still have no idea.
Plus the usual akido class. Some training for future generations of consumption, a puppet show, and a tour through my mother out law's stash which left me all the richer. I am particularly taken with this little piece of Liberty which has a future date with a dress pattern and Amy and this lovely poppy print linen and this extraordinary amount of ric rac, still on it's original card packaging. How anyone comes to have so much ric rac blows my mind, I am sure it must have come from D's grandmother who was the original hoarder with a serious sewing habit.
I haven't even begun to prepare for my weekend craft getaway (only three more sleeps!), something I am so excited about I can barely face it front on for fear of provoking a cerebral aneurysm. After four of these delightful getaways I should be more nonchalant about it, but I'm not. I can never quite believe my luck and I certainly don't feel I have come close to exhausting the possibilities such time out offers.
And luxury of luxuries I should be able to get away at lunchtime on Friday so I won't even be arriving in the dark or trying to squeeze in a come down before bed so Saturday should (theoretically) not begin after way too little sleep and a shite load of teenage excitement. Oh yeah, and some wine (no breastfeeding!).
Reading that back I realise how utterly scary I sound. Like some middle aged woman who can imagine nothing more thrilling than a weekend with a bunch of other women playing with sewing machines. Strangely I don't feel like that scary woman, but perhaps I am.
The to do list includes getting a start reading The Friday Night Knitting Club by Kate Jacobs which arrived in the post today, further progress on the swing jacket, some yarn dying lessons from the soup lady, a couple of new garments for me on the sewing machine and perhaps a few amigurumi toys for my upcoming crochet class. It is the first weekend I haven't made kids clothes and I am finding it quite liberating. I don't want to say it out loud but I think it might be all about me.
This time I'm on breakfast duty and I'm quite torturing myself over what to do. Aside from the whole egg fry up option there's buttermilk pancakes with berries, home made muesli, home made fruit toast, hot cross buns and options as yet unexplored.
On one level the decision is seriously unimportant since there will be morning tea and lunch and afternoon tea and dinner to compensate for any culinary faux pas I may commit.
On another level the food is important because it is one of the ways in which I engage directly with the community aspect of these retreats. It is one thing to make a marriage of convenience for the sake of a getaway, to share a place in which we all undertake our own private escapes, but it is quite another to choose to be together.
To sit down and dine together, to offer the products of our own labours to sustain each other is such a cornerstone of real community to me. And for this reason I want to make something really good. Something wholesome and nourishing, something good for us. Something special and enjoyable and perhaps not wholly good for us as everyday food.
Oh and did I mention that I don't want to spend ages preparing it and it can't involve split second timing (if you were thinking soufflé, get out of town) or be unsuitable for large scale manufacture. Or require bringing in specialist equipment or a ridiculous number of ingredients (I need all the transport space for stash!).
But you know, it doesn't really matter, right?
Excuse me I'm just going to look at some food porn, er I mean recipe books...