CaraLee H.G.

Refreshed

2010-05-25T17:03:00.000+02:00

Awhile back The Best Friend in the Entire Universe told me I should make clothing. Sewing should not be a difficult skill for me to learn, after all, I do have the sewing gene or at least The Mother and The Sister do, so why not I!?! I started off with making cushions, didn’t make very good friends with the zips, but we came to some sort of agreement and I eventually started feeling a little familiar with a sewing machine. Knowing that I still had many years of skill honing before me and wanting to keep my need for recycling, repurposing or refreshing sated, I decided to take existing previously loved items and give them new life. I have completed three items, the first attempt many months back and the last two over the last month. And because I am the luckiest girl in the world I have a photographer as a neighbor, a beautiful friend willing to be model and a son assistant; throw these into the pot of help and a photo shoot is born.

GREEN DRESS:

DESCRIPTION:

White netting top with heart detail. Elasticized high waist with green stitching. Green floral design on front skirt

SIZE: 30 - 36

COST: R250 excluding P&P

BLACK VELVET JACKET:

DESCRIPTION:

Black Velvet Bolero Jacket tied closed with dark denim fabric bow. Dark denim Star detail on back. Black lace detail hand sewn cuffs.

SIZE: 30 - 36

COST: R350 excluding P&P

GREY SLACKS:

DESCRIPTION:

Grey slacks, red woolen edging on front pockets & belt straps. White lace detail on back pockets with red trimmed black and white fur heart, edged with green stitching.

SIZE: 34 – 36

COST: R220 excluding P&P

Special thanks to the following people for their help, patience and fun attitude:

First to my awesome photographer Vanessa Cracknell, thanks for all the hard work on these photos and my label, without you this would still be a day dream.

To view more of Vanessa work visit www.vanessacracknell.weebly.com

Second to my beautiful friend Sarah Manning, thanks for always going the extra mile, being such a good friend and always, always having that wonderful smile on your face.

And last but certainly not least to my Son for being the best son a mom could have

2010-05-24T11:54:00.000+02:00

Well, the discussion with the Husband didn’t go quite as planned. Turns out he feels this was the best thing that could have happened to us and it has made him realize that actually I am what he wants and he most definitely wants to work through our problems and make our relationship work. The jury’s still out on how I feel about all of this. Sometimes I know I’m so angry I could spit, other times I feel depressed, there’s quite a bit of exhaustion and I’m often left feeling the need to curl up into a little ball and forget about everything. The only thing I know for absolutely sure is that I do love him and that it’s easier to give birth to an elephant with no anesthetic of any kind while lying on a bed of thorny roses with an annoying man standing over you, telling you the trunk is crowning, the tusks are almost out and would you like to see, then to know for absolutely sure what the best course of action is.

I’ve been thinking a great deal about The Fairy Godmother. She too found herself faced with the gut wrenching ache of the inevitable. Her response to it was to take a deep breath and dive right back in. Something akin to the philosophy of getting back on the horse after a bucking of bone breaking proportions. I asked her why, she said that she did not want to look back and say “What if?” Margaret said much the same thing. Her response was that she wanted to make every effort so that not once would she ever have to deal with any guilt due to the break up. Knowing in her heart she did everything she could possibly have done to make it work.

It would be so very convenient if I could only tell the future. I doubt I would learn much or grow as a human being but at least I could make easy choices avoid any future heartache and live a soft, clean bubble existence. Oh what joy! But alas, I must accept my shortcomings and make decisions blind. How difficult it is being a mere mortal.

I still feel nauseous most of the time and my courage reserves are still running a little low but I’m going to take a deep breath, block my nose and plunge into the pool of blind optimism. And I’m going to listen to ACDC the whole way down.

“When I see a pretty woman
You know it gives me a thrill
And she's a tailor made to order
You know I can't stand still
And you won't need a doctor
'Cause it'll cure all ills

And when I hear a noisy party
You know it gives me a chill
It gets me rockin' and a rollin'
And I can't stand still
From morning 'till midnight
You know I can't stand still

You know I can't stand still
I can't stand still
You know I can't stand still
I can't stand still
From morning 'till midnight
You know I can't stand still, oh yeah

When it comes to sippin' honey
You know I drink my fill
And I'll be dancin' on the water
You know I can't stand still
From morning 'till midnight
You know I can't stand still, oh yeah

You know I can't stand still
I can't stand still
I can't stand still
You know I can't stand still
From morning 'till midnight
You know I can't stand still

You know I can't stand still
I can't stand still
Baby I can't stand still
I just can't stand still
From morning 'till midnight
You know I can't
You know I can't stand still

Thank you lads, thank you lads, thank you”

Omega or is that Olmega

2010-05-19T14:12:00.000+02:00

So today I am feeling very sad. Well I’ve been feeling sad for quite some time now. But today, today I feel that cold feeling of acceptance. It is so annoyingly adult to have to deal with the inevitable. I keep telling myself; not much longer now, just a few things to sort out and it will all be over. I look forward to that. Then I can mourn in private; rage in private; hate in private; cry in private. No need to keep it together and act like everything is just peachy. I just hate public displays of negative emotion. I just hate being vulnerable in front of someone I really do love.

My chest aches.

I hate the fact that I have once again brought this upon myself. I wish I could just blame someone else. That would be so much easier. Then I could be the victim and weep woe is me to any and everybody. And everyone would lend me a shoulder and take my side. But no, I have to be all adult and take responsibility. What a bother!

My stomach’s in knots.

I’m very scared. I have to admit, for the sake of utter honesty, that he is a most decent young man and has an unbelievable need to be responsible. I have asked him if he can hang on for a bit until I get a job so I can support myself and my son. I realize that’s a pretty terrible thing to ask. It is unfair and selfish but what else can I do!?! I’ve sent my C.V. out and unfortunately I have accepted a half day job for June which definitely does not cover my expenses but that was before I was honest with myself. I was in denial. You know the state, the one where you tell yourself that if he says “I love you” then it means everything will be okay. But deep down you know that’s a lie. So you accept a job that will help trap him. Yes it’s pathetic but at least I didn’t fall pregnant. I’m not that pitiable.

My eyes are leaking.

Thank the Universe for Snow Patrol. How I love those little Scottish boys. At least they don’t lie. Lies! Lies! Lies! How I hate lies!

I am disgusted with my own shortcomings.

“All this feels strange an untrue
And I won’t waste a minute without you
My bones ache
My skin feels cold
And I’m getting so tired and so old
The anger swells in guts
And I won’t feel these slices and cuts
I want so much to open your eyes
Cos I need you to look into mine
Tell me that you’ll open your eyes
Tell me that you’ll open your eyes
Tell me that you’ll open your eyes
Tell me that you’ll open your eyes
Get up
Get out
Get away from these liars
Cos they don’t get your soul or your fire
Take my hand
Knot your fingers through mine
And we’ll walk from this dark room for the last time
Every minute from this minute now
We can do what we like anywhere
I want so much to open your eyes
Cos I need you to look into mine
Tell me that you’ll open your eyes
Tell me that you’ll open your eyes
Tell me that you’ll open your eyes
Tell me that you’ll open your eyes
Tell me that you’ll open your eyes
Tell me that you’ll open your eyes
Tell me that you’ll open your eyes
Tell me that you’ll open your eyes
All this feels strange and untrue
And I won’t waste a minute without you"

Puffery

2010-02-18T12:19:00.000+02:00

We have all heard it said that men are dogs; often by a heart broken woman reeling from disappointment and confusion shortly after she has realized that her loved one is a bit of a liar and has deceived her in some way. A dog is also used to describe a thing of poor quality; a failure; an informer or traitor; an unattractive woman, basically giving us the impression that dog is a bad thing, a thing to despise and detest, a thing to scorn and shoo out the back door.

I personally feel a little sorry for the dog; after all this is the animal that makes us think of unending loyalty. Man’s best friend. Unconditional love. So how then did the dog degenerate to something ugly?

The truth is men are not dogs. True a man can be loyal, he can even love and protect. But never deceive!?! Impossible! No amount of rationalization will ever change the simple fact; it is statistically improbable that a man will never lie to you. It’s more likely that God (or Jupiter) will char Mugabe’s skeletal structure with one of his deadly lightening bolts as just punishment for the evil he has perpetrated.

Now, do not get me wrong. I am not male bashing. I am just telling a truth as I see it, from years of studying the opposite sex in the hopes of finally coming to some sort of understanding that will enable me to live side by side in happiness with one.

What is somewhat amusing, however, is the realization that the only reason men deceive us is because of the completely one sided set of rules, morals and ethics, we bring to the relationship. We are our own worst enemy. I blame those ridiculous fairy tales they fed us when we were young. Warping our sense of reality and sending our imaginations into over drive. Fairy tales; silly stories spun by disillusioned old maids with vivid imaginations.

The truth is I think that men actually resent us. Sure we make them happy, most of the time, well maybe not most of the time but definitely some of the time. Mostly I think we just make them miserable, and tired. Before we came along they could visit brothels, drink themselves into oblivion, spend long night on chat sites, take copious amounts of drugs, have sexual relations with whomever said yes and basically live the life of the free and easy bachelor, no cares, just fun; fun; fun. They’ve had to make many sacrifices and compromises, complicating their lives with lies and deceit, just in the hopes of keeping a little glimmer of their once precious secret life. They don’t mean to hurt us, or break our precious rules. They just want to hang on, while they still have a little life left and it really is unfair of us to hold them back. They lie to protect us. And really, we should be flattered by this almost chivalrous, if not a little misguided, need to protect us.

My point is this:

It is quite pointless to get our knickers in a knot. It’s a waste of energy and solves nothing, leaves us exhausted and more bitter and twisted then any one human being should ever be. I believe the best course of action is to simply ask yourself this one question; “Can you live with this particular deception?”

It’s not, “Should I leave him?” It’s not even, “How could he do this to me?” It’s, “Can I live with this?”

Every single sentient being or creature on this planet and probably on all the other planets with life; has a price. I mean, look at the lioness. Do you really think she’s happy with having to do all the hunting only to wait, hungry and tired, for the lion to have his fill? No! But she does it, because he is a bad ass king of the jungle and she’s guaranteed a more secure life with him at her side. No good getting embarrassed about this or denying it. Rather embrace it and move on. After all ladies, we are all whores; some of us just have a higher price.

So decide your price, now, and make sure the compromises you do make are ones that will make you happy.
Oh and start making some girlfriends, now, because when you discover the lie, and you will, the Universe loves us, we are creators and are therefore protected, you’re going to need them. It’s going to be the hardest choice you ever make and you better make damn sure you can live with it.

Lie 2 ~n an intentionally false statement. ~ a situation involving deception or founded on a mistaken impression ~v (lies, lying, lied) tell a lie or lies. ~ (of a thing) present a false impression

Bookcase Facelift

2010-02-17T09:33:00.000+02:00

Living in the city I have grown to love and appreciate little things like shelves, cupboards and bookcases. Space is always a problem and finding new ways to store that which we do not want to toss is a continual problem. All city dwellers will agree, finding a solution that fits your decor, personality and pocket is not always easy and when found gives one a sense of sheer joy and pride.

This bookcase is an old McNamee's piece, it was covered with an off white PVA paint and was rather boring.

Very plain, nothing interesting and I must be honest a little depressing.

As I am a great fan of wood, love the colours, love the grains, I decided the off white PVA coating had to go. I stripped the entire unit and to give it a little something more painted some Lillies on the back panel. Lillies being the favourite flower of the lady purchasing the bookcase.

I love my job

Radio Rage

2010-02-01T12:54:00.000+02:00

You know, I am not sure if it is the advancement of my age or if I do indeed have a legitimate grievance, but when I listen to the radio I find myself frowning with the utmost irritation. And, to add insult to injury I have to endure Radio 5 informing me that I am listening to “Great” music. Great!?! What exactly is great about it!?! The music is so far from great I find myself feeling pleasantly relieved when a Shakira song starts to play. Not only am I relieved but I am also rather surprised to learn that Shakira, at least, doesn’t make my ears ring. I think how wonderful it would be if we had a radio station that did not play the worse commercial rubbish ever produced in the entire Universe since the beginning of time. Then I remember that it was not so long ago we actually did have a radio station that gave us a wider variety of music and more intelligent, entertaining DJ’s. Once I have lamented the woe of losing Radio 2000 to the ranks of not even bothering to flip through, I resign myself to the fact that its either listen to my own personal music collection and never hear anything new for the rest of my days or listen to Radio my ears are ringing 5 or East Coast slit my wrists Radio in the hopes I will be lucky enough to hear one great gem that will make it seem somewhat worthwhile.

And then, inevitably, the Radio Rage sets in and I remember that it was only recently SABC stole money from me in the guise of a TV License while telling me it was the right thing to do (bad English you chump!). It makes me bitter; it makes me irrational; it makes me hate them. It makes me think “Damn you SABC, I’m glad you’re in Financial Doo-doo at least now the wheel has turned. You’ve been stealing money from us citizens for years; laughing all the way to the bank while expecting us to tolerate the unentertaining, garbage you shovel out in droves, time to pay your dues. Corporate devil’s Spawn!”

I remember the rape of The Husband’s wallet only too well and my memory is long. Like an elephant; only longer.

It was made bearable by Ray White and that guy on a Thursday night who used to flirt with all his guests, he was brilliant. It was wonderful to wake up to the radio alarm, a good song playing, setting the tone for a great day of happiness and positivity. Oh how I long for those golden days of sunshine and sun flowers. Now it’s just dreary and unnecessary advertising; inane, drivel masquerading as entertainment; horrid music and a sinking suspicion that there really is no hope.

I believe the only possible solution to this dilemma is the start of a pirate radio station. I do not believe SABC or who ever should be paid for broadcasting good radio on the air waves that we, the people, can pick up at our hearts content. It should be resource based and not monetary. And it should be protected by all of us like the French would. Because lets be honest, it’s not like we see or hear anything we really want to. We are forced to pay for a TV license and yet we are expected to sit through a badly edited movie, interrupted by stupid advertising belittling and condescending. I would even be willing to let The Husband pay for such a radio station provided it made me happy, wasn’t a propaganda machine and made the world a slightly better place to be.

So, should someone decide they wanted to be the greatest thing ever to happen to radio let me know, I’ll spread the word and be an avid listener.

Oh and on a completely separate note, I’d just like to say thanks to the Haiti rescue workers, you guys are the balm. Thumbs up and a big cheer!

Shame

2009-11-10T10:33:00.000+02:00

I love words. In fact two of my favourite books are a Dictionary and a Thesaurus; so many wonderful new words just waiting to be discovered, learnt and used. I once saw a girl in a movie using a highlighter to highlight all the new words she had learnt while reading and I thought “boy is that a good idea, a sure way to track your increasing knowledge of words.” Words are good; they are my greatest love affair. They are faithful and never lie. You can trust words, even if uttered by a liar they still give clues to truth. They are power and should be respected. However there are a few words that I do not like. A few words that when uttered my skin crawls and I have an instant flash of uncontrolled anger, disgust and horror. One of these words is Shame.

I do not like that word. It is negative, condescending and reeks of prejudice. It tells a great deal about the person who utters it and in my opinion is a good indicator of a shallow person. In my experience only shallow people use that word all the time. Generally having to utter it in just about every single conversation you have with them.

Now I admit I have used that word in the past. Usually to express my sadness at someone’s misfortune; they just found out their mother has breast cancer; someone’s child was killed in a senseless car accident; they broke their ankle while descending a flight of stairs. This ‘shame’ is usually followed by a ‘that’s terrible’. So I am not altogether absolved.

But what really makes me dislike this word so much is the fact that the people who tend to use it often don’t actually know what the true meaning is. They just use it because they are, in my honest opinion simply dense. And by dense I don’t mean closely compacted in substance or crowded closely together. I mean STUPID. To utter “shame” when you hear the news that a woman who knows exactly what she wants and isn’t afraid to go after it has asked her boyfriend to marry her is condescending, disgraceful and beyond a shadow of a doubt stupid. I don’t even like marriage, I don’t even get excited when I hear of other peoples impending nuptials, but I do have a certain sense of respect for someone who doesn’t need to be bound by ridiculous, outdated traditions that really have nothing to do with why someone would want to get married. It’s preposterous to say shame in that particular instance. What exactly is so shameful about it? Do you even know what the word shame means? Obviously not! So for the sake of allowing you; and by “you” I am referring to those dense individuals who have the audacity to irritate me with their stupidity; to learn something new, I have decided to give you the Concise (meaning clearly and in a few words) Oxford English Dictionary’s definition of the word Shame ~ n 1 a feeling of humiliation or distress caused by the consciousness of wrong or foolish behavior. 2 dishonour. 3 a regrettable or unfortunate thing. ~v. cause to feel ashamed.

Learn the meaning and use it in the appropriate context, if you are unable to do so then rather just shut up, after all “It is far better to be thought a fool then open your mouth and actually be one”.

I have also decided that I will no longer use that word; it has been shamed beyond repair and therefore no longer deserves a place in my vocabulary. Instead I shall find new ways to express my sadness at someone’s misfortune and leave ‘shame’ for those individuals who deserve it.

I Love my head

2009-11-03T17:06:00.000+02:00

So; I’ve just finished shaving my hair off. I felt like GI Jane while doing it, but I definitely don’t look like her. I wasn’t really expecting to; to be frank, I am the first to admit I don’t really have a very pretty scalp or shaped head for that matter. It’s kind of knobbly and white; it looks more like a snow capped mountain range seen from far away, then a beautiful Queen of the Universe Cleopatra style head. But it’s perfect in its own way.

The Husband is so not going to like it. I did discuss it with him this afternoon. We went to Orgrispar and I saw that woman again. She is gorgeous, has a number 4 and such a great shaped head. I didn’t think I was going to look like her either.

He said that we should rather dread my hair or plait it all over. Tiny little plaits, very pretty. I asked him who was going to plait it and he said he would. Now he also said last Halloween that he would dread my hair for me. I’m still waiting and I’ve come to realize that I will probably not have the tiny, little plaits all over my head by next Halloween. So I decided to do it myself. The shaving that is, not the plaits. That would be way more difficult and far less fun.

My mother is going to hate it. But I live under my own roof now, so I make my own rules, brilliant being all grown up. I’m going to her place tonight so I think I’ll wear a beanie, the shock might be too much even for her. I have to think of her heart now, she’s also all grown up and I would prefer to keep her for a little longer.

My son hated it. He’s more embarrassed then anything else and says everyone is going to think I have cancer. I said “well at least strangers will be kind to me”. He didn’t care. Shame the poor boy, how on earth is he going to survive his childhood with me as his mother!?! He thinks I’m mad.

But I don’t mind. I am a little mad in my own special way. We all are; that’s what makes us human. And besides what is normal anyway?

Personally I just needed the change. And I haven’t really finished it. I think I’m going to shave a bit more off, maybe give myself a million different lengths or shapes. I may even shave a heart on my head, after all,

I do love my head.

I love my bum

2009-10-30T16:34:00.000+02:00

About a year and a half ago I purchased a pair of grey pants for my corporate job from Mr. Price. They weren't what I would call expensive, but still I had to fork out over R100, which still hurt especially when I knew the chances of me actually wearing these paints outside the office were below slim to none. So being the obsessive compulsive I am, I added these to the wash basket as soon as I got home, having tried them on in the shop and knowing they would "do", I didn't feel another try before washing was necessary.

Imagine my horror when after I had lovingly washed them I discovered they were suddenly three quarter pants and there was absolutely no way I could wear them with even flat shoes without displaying my amazing ankles to the corporate world. Now I have never considered myself a sew mistress, convinced my mother did not pass that particular gene on, so I did not bother with even attempting to lengthen these, I took them straight to mom. Being the Goddess of Sewing Machines she managed to put a false hem in, lenghtening these to an acceptable length, provided I did not wear high heels. I lived with this for about 6 months when one day I donned my grey pants, still having to deal with the bitterness of buyers remorse, only to discover there was a new, big gaping hole right were my natural hole should be covered up.

They look like a funny face saying Oh No what a waste of money, don't they!?!

This was the last straw and I put these cursed grey pants back into the cupboard and tried very hard to forget I had ever wasted my hard earned cash on them.

About two weeks ago I decided that perhaps I could make these pants acceptable, I still hadn't found the courage to throw them away, so why not find the courage to Caranize them!?! They couldn't possibly be made to look any worse and I might even manage to make them wearable. So that is what I did. I am wearing them today. I feel much better now. I even think I may actually grow to like them. Especially after I was told "I like your bum" today. Yes there are moments in life when you are victorious, these are glorious and treasured moments, but I still won't buy from Mr. Price again.

Front View Before Caranizing of Cursed Grey Pants

Front View After Caranizing not so Cursed any more Grey Pants

Back View Before Caranizing of Cursed Grey Pants

See the gaping hole? See solution Below:

Back View After Caranizing of not so Cursed any more Grey Pants

I love my Bum

Grateful

2009-10-30T15:29:00.000+02:00

You know, I have had to give up quite a few things since I started my own business. I’ve made the choice to purchase margarine instead of butter, a health risk I know. I’ve exchanged my double ply for single ply, I still love my bum it’s just half price. I’ve stop buying expensive salon shampoo and my scalp has complained continually ever since. I’ve taken up walking instead of driving, which is far better for my health and the environment so I can’t really complain about that. I have stopped buying sweets, snacks and rubbish from tea rooms. I have also given up drinking coca-cola and coffee, both having very real benefits to my physical health and probably mental too, but took a great deal of will power and dedication to kick. I have also gone from smoking Stuyvesant Reds to rolling my own, which can be a little tricky to do, when trying to navigate the pot hole filled roads of Durban. All in all, I’ve made some very serious sacrifices. But the funny thing is I didn’t consider any of these choices to be a sacrifice until The Husband decided to have one of his little moans about all he had to give up. After enduring an hour of repetitive grumbles it got me thinking about all the things I had to give up, which then led me to asking myself if these were sacrifices or simply better choices for my life in general. After this my brain led to thinking how different he and I are when it comes to looking at our lives.

You see my mother taught me to be grateful for all I get. I used to get so annoyed with her when she would shout at me for not being grateful and groaning about what I didn’t have. She used to remind me of all I did have and how much more I have than others; and how much worse my life could be; all I had to do was stop and think about those millions of other people all over the world who don’t have running water, food to eat, clothes to wear or even a house to live in. I am so grateful she taught me this lesson. It has helped me to realize that I am indeed the luckiest person in the entire Universe. And it has also taught me to continual evaluate my life and be grateful and happy for all that I have. I don’t look at others and get sad because I perceive them to have more than me. I usually feel sorry for other people, because how could anyone be as blessed as me!?! How could anyone possibly have as much love, as much support and be surrounded by as many wonderful people as I am!?! It’s just not possible.

I kind of feel sorry for The Husband now. He was not taught this lesson. He was taught that life is horrid and people are not kind. Everyone is out to get you and every small little sacrifice is not a means to an end but an end of your life. Going through your life being a martyr and a victim is most tiring. It saps all your energy and doesn’t allow any room for happiness to grow. It stunts you and shrivels you and turns you into a prune. Tasty but you can only have so many of them before your bowels start protesting.

You see, I could sit here and complain about the single ply toilet paper that scratches my bum, my higher risk of cancer due to the plastic margarine I consume or my itchy scalp until I’m blue in the face, but that would be pointless because I know that this is only temporary. I also know that I have so much more to be grateful for.

I have The Husband who takes care of all the household bills so I can concentrate on creating a successful and prosperous business, yes he has an occasional moan but he does it. I also have a mother who taught me to always look on the bright side and concentrate on the light at the end of the tunnel. I have a sister who believes I will succeed no matter what. I have The Best Friend in the Entire Universe who always makes me feel worthwhile, brilliant, beautiful and invincible. I have an incredible extended family who believes that charity really does begin at home, not necessarily with hand outs but with whatever help they can give. I have the most amazing twelve year son who reminds me on a daily basis that love is unconditional and gives me a reason to get up in the morning. I have Victoria who keeps my flat clean always with a smile on her face and a kind word for me. I have a Renault Clio that does the work of a bakkie. I have a roof over my head, food in my belly, warm water to wash away the aches and pains and clothes in my cupboard. I have a cupboard. I have so much that really when I make the list of do have and don’t have, I can only smile and say:

I truly am the Luckiest Girl in the Entire Universe.

Completed Chest of Draws

2009-10-27T07:40:00.001+02:00

I always feel a little nervous when I have to deliver a finished piece to a client. All sorts of doubts asail me and I start to panic that perhaps I have missed the mark, didn't quite get what the client wanted and will have to deal with disappointment. I always breathe a sigh of relief when it is delivered and the client expresses their pleasure.

The room that this Chest of Draws was to be customized for, is used as a guest room in a Surgery Hosting guest house. The client informed me that the unit was to be more masculine as the guest could very well be male, and still appeal to a woman's sense of oppulence and luxury. It was to have more neutral colours so that at any stage the colour theme could be changed without having to worry about ensuring the Chest still fit in.

I thoroughly enjoyed giving this unit a Facelift and have once again learnt some very valuable lessons about choice of fabrics, the importance of small details and patience.

I was also thrilled when the Husband informed me that he perferred this one to the other more feminine unit completed previously. I hoped it meant I had nailed the brief and had successfully managed to created something a man would feel comfortable putting his clothing into.

Here are some before and after pictures:

Front view Before facelift:

Front view After Facelift:

Inside Draws Before Facelift:

Inside Draws After Facelift:

Inside Draws Lock Detail Close Up After Facelift:

Back view Before Facelift:

Back view After Facelift:

Side view Before Facelift:

Side view After Facelift:

Guest Room:

Banana

2009-10-22T07:29:00.000+02:00

This is a Banana. It is part of three Fruit Canvas's I have been painting.

I have used oil paints, with some green bead detail and has been painted on a 10cm x 10cm deep based canvas.

This Banana is selling for R60.

Little Red Box

2009-10-20T07:13:00.000+02:00

I've just finished the Little Red Box.

This is a little wooden box that I have painted with a red wash. The wash is subtle and as such you are able to see the grain of wood, which I always like, loving wood as I do.

I have decoupaged the inside with a pretty red and pink roses serviette. This is one of my favourite prints, it's not too girly that I feel ill with all the girliness but still girly enough that I don't feel like a boy.

On the lid I have added three red jewels, some gold pen detail, red lace detail and because I believe that feathers should always accompany lace, added two black feathers to either side of the lid.

The box is 21 cm long, 9cm wide and 7cm high. So is small and yet still big enough for you to store your jewellery, watches, make up or even tea bags, complimenting any tea tray. (Yes even we should serve tea on a tea tray, with cloth, sugar bowel, tea pot, cup and saucer and whatever other bits and pieces make up the correct way to drink tea.)

I had fun with this little red box and I am only selling it for R50 which means buying a nice Christmas gift for someone without using your entire Christmas present Budget.

Eskom has horns and a 666 Tattoo on its forehead

2009-10-16T08:50:00.000+02:00

There has, most obviously, been a great deal of hoo-hah surrounding Eskom. Almost on a daily basis emails have been received, debates on radio have taken place and news items have been endured. Mostly this just irritates me. I consider signing the petition, I try to listen to the debates, I even waste five minutes of my life watching the news items. But still I cannot help but think that it’s really pointless. We live in a democratic country but honestly what exactly does democracy mean in reality!?! Eskom is a business and as such it does not care what we the public want, it cares what its board of directors want. And they want profit. They also want to continue receiving those fat bonus cheques and 27% raises per annum. TWENTY-SEVEN percent! Could this perhaps be where all our money is going? We know it’s not going towards maintenance because we are still experiencing “load shedding”. Only now it’s actual “power failures” as most of the electricity giving equipment is just simply giving out. It’s old and tired and just cannot handle the pressure of working any more. Especially considering no-one at Eskom has thought it prudent to put pro-active measures in place ensuring the upkeep of their equipment. No, they were too busy agreeing to ridiculous amounts for raises & bonus cheques, patting themselves on the back for the huge profits they have made off us. All that congratulations takes a fair amount of time.

But what really irritates me, what really makes my hair stand on end and my teeth grind together is the annoying little lectures we have to endure from the Eskom fat cats about what naughty little children we, the customers, are.

First we were told in no uncertain terms, that due to the fact that we, the customer, did not listen to Eskom, the parent, and stop wasting electricity we were to be punished. After all, when your child does not heed you and continues to behave in an unacceptable manner, we the parent must show them who the boss is. We cannot let the little brats get the impression we can be walked all over. The only problem I see here is that Eskom is our service provider. We pay their salaries; they do not feed us, house us, clothe us or educate us. They are not our parent. We are their customer. So therefore shouldn’t we dictate the terms of our relationship!?! Oops I forgot they have a MONOPOLY.

So after all this we endured Load Shedding. Hundreds of business went bankrupt, grocery stores lost millions due to spoilt foods; basically our entire economy took a huge knock just so that we, the errant child, would learn our lesson.

Before I continue my rant let me just say that I have no problem with reducing my electricity consumption. I also have no problem with finding alternate power, like say wind power, solar power or any other green alternatives there may be. In fact why doesn’t Eskom put something in place? Install solar panels in my block of flats; make me pay a rental every month for the annual upkeep of the panels and a monthly fee for the costs incurred from the installation of said panels. I have no problem with this at all. It will work out cheaper for me in the long run as solar power is far cheaper than nuclear power, better for the environment and… it’s free, the sun always shines in Durban. Oh wait, it wouldn’t be profitable enough for Eskom and we have those 27% raises and bonus cheques to think about, silly me, I forgot the most important thing.

We survived Load Shedding, Eskom obviously decided we had been punished long enough and had learnt our lesson, we were then told we must reduce our consumption by 10% otherwise Load Shedding would be back. So we, the good child, reduced our consumption by 10%, but what happened next? Eskom released their numbers and it was discovered that they had not made enough money and because we, the naughty child, had not spent enough with them we would then have to endure further punishment and our rates would be increased, we are now paying 46% more for electricity per month. I suppose this 46% increase in tarrifs was to cover the 27% increase in salary the fat cats at Eskom just received.

Through all of this we have also been told that South Africa enjoys the benefit of the cheapest electricity globally, which is great, except for one little fact, only a third of our country actually enjoys this benefit, the rest don’t even have electricity. Can you imagine if the whole of SA was able to enjoy the benefit, then we would really be screwed, Eskom cannot even supply the third with enough electricity; what on earth would they do if they actually had to supply the whole?

And now we are told we will have to endure a further 60% increase in tarrifs, to cover maintenance costs, 27% salary increases per annum and million rand bonus cheques for the fat cats. I am sick of Eskom. South African’s battle to keep up with the rising costs of food, never mind the rising cost of petrol, gas, school fees, insurances and now electricity. Eskom were responsible for thousands of people losing their lively hood and still they can enjoy the benefit of 27% salary increases. This is not only irresponsible it’s robbery. I wouldn’t mind so much if the tea lady at Eskom received a 27% salary increase, I would be happy with that, she probably needs it more. I do have a problem with the fat cat who received a million rand bonus cheque last year also receiving a 27% salary increase this year. I also have a problem with Eskom getting away with day light robbery, putting more strain on our economy and basically bankrupting poor South African citizens who don’t have any chose but to bend over and take it like a man.

Dear Eskom,

I will be investigating alternate power supplies in the hopes that one day I will be able to get my one thousand, three hundred and fifty Rand deposit back from you. In the hopes that I will be able to tell you to shove it where the sun don’t shine, because I no longer need you, your ridiculous reasons for taking food off my child’s plate and pathetically disguised excuses for increasing already over paid director salaries so they can enjoy long over seas holidays, three million rand houses and private schools for their off spring.

Eskom you are the devil and do not deserve the R600 I pay every month for my two bedroom, one bathroom, no pool, no tumble dryer home.

Signed with absolutely no Kind Regards by an irate, sick of it consumer with currently no choice.

The Luck of the Irish

2009-10-15T07:12:00.000+02:00

So, I just added the finishing bead work touches on my latest canvas. It's a four leaf clover meant to bring good luck. Did you know that a clover leaf is heart shaped? I never noticed that before. So not only should it bring luck but surely love as well. Unless it brings luck in love and I just assumed it was luck in general!?!

It's on a 10cm by 10cm deep based canvas, painted in oil with purple beads.

Luck ~n success or failure apparently brought by chance. > chance considered as a force causing success or failure.

One Step Closer

2009-10-14T07:38:00.000+02:00

A couple weekends ago I met a lady at the Heritage Sunday Market who told me about her friend, Denise, who has a business called Vintage Refreshed; her web site is full of art pieces, cushions, furniture etc that has been created out of recycled goods. This lady was insistent that I contact Denise and she was convinced Denise would be interested in my Furniture Facelifts.

So last week I had a good squize at Denises web site, www.freshlyfound.com, after navigating all the pages I completely understood why this lady thought me contacting Denise was a good idea. So I sent an email to Denise in the hopes that I could either advertise on her web page or at least gain some great insight on how to make my business successful.

Well today I am most excited to say I have just received a reply email from Denise. Unfortunately she does not have advertising on her web page but she does have a daily blog (www.freshlyfound.blogspot.com) and would like to know if I would be interested in meeting with her so she could take some pics and hopefully do a little blog.

Well yes I am most definitely interested. So hold thumbs my friends and family, here’s hoping she does like my work and will write a blog and I can get a little more exposure and take one step closer to realizing my dreams of making Furniture Facelifts a very profitable and well established business thereby getting me one step closer to creating my empire, which will enable my son to realize his dreams of being a scientist.

Blue

2009-09-14T08:44:00.000+02:00

So I finished a new painting. I started this one about six months ago. I had a dream that I was visiting an art gallery and I fell in love with this painting, it was so up my street and I remember thinking in my dream; “this is one of mine so therefore I must paint it”. So the next day I started painting it. I think my sub conscious was trying to tell me to stop painting in the hopes someone would like it and start painting what I want with no thought for what others may like. “Be free, Ducks, be free”.

The only problem was half way through I decided I didn’t like it after all and packed it away. I completely forgot about it until about two weeks ago. I’ve been feeling rather blue of late. Money has become an issue and I was starting to feel the need to give up on my dreams of “finding the job I love” and go back to the corporate world of ugliness and unhappiness, where I am just a number making oodles of money for someone else’s coffers. That’s when this particular painting found me again.

Feeling blue can be a great motivator and painting has always been a help to me in my times of utter dejectedness.

It is also a symbol that I am finally letting myself go and worrying less about whether or not I am an artist and worrying more about just being me. After all I am the first one to yell from the roof tops that I know exactly who I am and what I am, so why not start walking the walk instead of just talking the talk.

This is also the first time I am painting on masonite and it will probably be the last as finding a way to attach the hooks to the back so you can actually hang the thing is such a mission and I think I prefer canvas anyway.

So, ladies and gentleman, I give you my Blue Tree:

(blast it, I cannot seem to get this the right way round, when viewing please tilt your head to the left or turn your monitor to the right onto it's side)

Blue ~ adj. 1 of a colour intermediate between green and violet, as of the sky or sea on a sunny day. 2 informal melancholy, sad, or depressed.

Frosty

2009-09-11T09:47:00.001+02:00

It’s a cold, cloudy, rainy day in Durban. It’s freezing cold and thoughts of global cooling and a new Ice Age keep distracting me. Durbanite’s are not cut out for this type of weather. The Genius is right, we would be the first to go should the world freeze over.

I am unable to find a jersey that will keep my arms, waist and neck warm. Today I think a fire place really isn’t a ridiculous idea and perhaps I should order one of those gas one’s, must be cheaper than installing a chimney, less hassle too, I’m not sure the board of trustees and my upstairs neighbor would appreciate me bashing a whole in the roof. Besides it would take way too long for the approval to come through, it’ll be summer by then and completely useless.

My fingers are aching. This is what frost bite must feel like. I wonder if the feeling in my tips will ever return. I won’t need to worry about my body decaying should I turn into an icicle. Flesh won’t decay when it’s frozen.

It’s a cold, cold, cloudy and rainy day in Durban. I’ve decided to listen to Snow Patrol. I figure it’s a fitting tribute to the iciness outside. I think I saw some droplets that looked suspiciously like snow. But, truth be told, I think it’s too cold to snow.

I am unable to find a scarf, beanie and thermal underwear. I have to go outside in a few moments and I don’t have any protection for my nose. I just realized I don’t have any snow tires. They don’t sell them in Durban. This could be a problem. I hope the slicks I currently have on my car hold out. I don’t have any life insurance. That could be a problem.

I tried to put an extra pair of socks on and realized I couldn’t find my toes. I looked for them at the end of my feet and was relieved to find my eyes still function. My not be able to feel my toes but I can still see. I wonder if your eyes are the last to go when you succumb to the cold.

It’s a cold, cold, cloudy, rainy, freezing day in Durban. It must be at least 18 degrees Celsius.

REFERENCES:

Concise Oxford English Dictionary:

frost ~ n. 1 a deposit of small white ice crystals formed on the ground or other surfaces when the temperature falls below freezing 2 a period of cold weather when frost forms ~ v 1 cover or be covered with or as if with frost; freeze.

frostbite ~n. injury to body tissues, especially the nose, fingers, or toes, caused by exposure to extreme cold.

frosted ~ adj. 1 covered with or as if with frost.

frosty ~ adj. 1 (of the weather) very cold with frost forming on surfaces 2 cold and unfriendly.

(Written September 10, 2009)

Marriage

2009-09-03T11:39:00.000+02:00

It is very difficult for me to explain my absolute abhorrence of marriage. Usually I don’t bother. When asked the question I simply state, with a smile; “I don’t want to get married”, while shaking my head in a hopefully none threatening manner. This has been a far more successful strategy than the one I adopted when I was younger. Then I would find myself waxing lyrical about my inherent beliefs and watching while my audience slowly slipped away from me either giving me the confused, blank, “erh” face or the “don’t worry you’ll find someone to marry” sympathy. That strategy most definitely did not work and it was exhausting. All that energy for such little reward, it was an empowering day for me when I realized I could not force others to listen to my wide, wonderful and usually correct views on the Universe and that it is simply impossible to change someone else’s beliefs no matter how emphatically you argue your point and it is most definitely not worth the effort to even try. So now I have a new, improved strategy that seems to work.

But, it still bothers me, this whole “need to get married” thing. It’s not natural. God didn’t invent it, she really didn’t you know; neither did Mother Nature, Buddha, Allah or any other god. It was invented by Man, that’s all, that’s the truth. Not woman, not child, not beast, not God: MAN.

I have even gone as far as to have a little dig around the interwebs. Searching and researching trying to find some proof that would convince me this marriage thing was not a ploy invented by man to ensnare and entrapped the female of the species, but rather a divine intervention created to ensure happiness, trust and love for both male and female. Well I didn’t find any.

In fact according to Wikipedia one of the oldest known and recorded marriage laws comes from the code of Hammurabi. Hammurabi was the sixth Babylonian King, who ruled around 1796 BC to 1750 BC, apparently he was chosen by the gods (these would include Apsu; Tiamat; Anshar; Kishar & Sin, to name but a few) to deliver the law to the people. Some of these laws would be considered somewhat outdated and barbaric to our more “civilized” sensibilities, here take a look:

These are seven example laws, in their entirety, of the Code of Hammurabi, translated into English:

If any one ensnares another, putting a ban upon him, but he can not prove it, then he that ensnared him shall be put to death.

Well I must be honest I’ve read that law a few hundred times and still it makes no sense to me. Are we talking witchcraft here? Or kidnapping? Does it, even remotely, make sense? The actual sentence I mean? Can someone please interpret the above Hammurabinees for me?

If anyone brings an accusation against a man, and the accused goes to the river and leaps into the river, if he sinks in the river his accuser shall take possession of his house. But if the river proves that the accused is not guilty, and he escapes unhurt, then he who had brought the accusation shall be put to death, while he who leaped into the river shall take possession of the house that had belonged to his accuser.

Move over Judge Judy, it’s Judge River!?! Actually this might be a law we could use. Perhaps we should change it to “and the accused is thrown into the river…”? It would also help with the lack of housing in the country.

If a Builder builds a house for someone, and does not construct it properly, and the house which he build falls in and kills its owner, then the builder shall be put to death. (Another variant of this is, If the owner’s son dies, then the builder’s son shall be put to death.)

Better hope your dad the builder loves you and builds those houses well. Or at least well enough that it has the good sense to everyone else BUT the owner.

If a man give his child to a nurse and the child dies in her hands, but the nurse unbeknown to the father and mother nurses another child, then they shall convict her of having nursed another child without the knowledge of the father and mother and her breasts shall be cut off.

Well, let me tell you, this would be the one reason I would most definitely not become a nurse. Your breasts! Cut off! Hectic. Although if the mother give the child to a nurse…does that mean your breast are safe?

If any one steals the minor son of another, he shall be put to death.

This we could definitely use! Just change it to include daughters and it’s got my vote.

If a man takes a woman to wife, but has no intercourse with her, this woman is no wife of him.

Did you see it, the marriage law, up there, just above this sentence; take a moment to re-read it. That’s all there is, it’s not even about matrimony it’s about sex.

And last but most definitely not least:

If a man strikes a pregnant woman, thereby causing her to miscarry and die, the assailant’s daughter shall be put to death.

The daughter! Not the assailant! Shall be put to death!

Now who does Hammurabi remind me of? Oh yes, Moses. Wasn’t it Moses who also told us God had spoken to him, gave him some laws and told him to go forth and enforce said laws?

Excuse me a moment, need to consult the Oracle, will be back in a moment.

Well the Oracle told me to consult Wikkipedia and this is what she said:

Moses was, according to biblical texts, a religious leader, lawgiver, and prophet, to whom the authorship of the Torah is traditionally attributed.

Aha, I was correct. Well what were these laws Moses was given; surely here I will find something to disprove my beliefs on marriage? Let’s have a look:

Holy Moses; check out Numbers 31:13-18:

13 And Moses, and Eleazar the priest, and all the princes of the congregation, went forth to meet them without the camp

14 And Moses was wroth with the officers of the host, the captains of thousands and the captains of hundreds, who came from the service of the war.

15 And Moses said unto them, Have ye saved all the women alive?

16 Behold, these caused the children of Israel, through the counsel of Balaam, to commit trespass against Jehovah in the matter of Peor, and so the plague was among the congregation of Jehovah.

17 Now therefore kill every male among the little ones, and kill every woman that hath known man by lying with him.

18 But all the women-children, that have not known man by lying with him, keep alive for yourselves.

Okay I suppose God could have told Moses that the only way to get rid of the plague would be to murder and rape. I was, after all, not there to witness the God-Moses conversation so who am I to doubt the Will!?!

And now, (drum roll please), the Ten Commandments, dictated by God, to his secretary Moses:

Commandments:

I am the Lord your God
You shall have no other gods before me
You shall not make for yourself an idol

Oops, looks like Billy broke that Law.

You shall not make wrongful use of the name of your God
Remember the Sabbath and keep it holy
Honor your father and mother
You shall not murder*

But you told Moses that he must murder all those men, woman and children? Isn’t the best way to teach your children through your own actions, monkey see, monkey do? What about “practice what you preach”? All this is most confusing. Well at least rape hasn’t appeared in here; no wonder rapists only get a 2 year suspended sentence. God didn’t say it was wrong, (well according to Moses anyway).

You shall not commit adultery

But you can rape.

You shall not steal***

But you can rape.

You shall not bear false witness against your neighbour

But you can rape.

You shall not covet your neighbour’s wife

Okay you probably couldn’t rape your neighbour’s wife, surely this law prohibits that. Okay no, I was wrong, you cannot yearn to possess her, as she belongs to someone else but you could probably rape her. Loop holes, loop holes, so many loop holes.

You shall not covet anything that belongs to your neighbor

Apparently the first three are really one, or the last two are one or something like that, making up your ten. And did you know that the Roman Catholic Church say “kill” rather than murder as it is less specific and more inclusive.

Anyway I digress; it would appear that no where in any of my extensive research was I able to find any reference to a stone tablet dictated by God or the gods and scribed by someone, which stated we had to get married. There are, however, a few Laws and a great many traditions and customs surrounding marriage, there’s also at least one family that I know of that gives Kali (Hindu Goddess of eternal energy, time and change) a bottle of Mainstay and a nicely rolled ganga joint, in order to make her happy while performing one of their family prayers. I am sure this practice would shock and horrify some Hindu followers as marriage shocks and horrifies me.

One historical reason for marriage was in order to secure paternal ownership. You see, when a woman has a child that child takes the mother’s name and marriage was the only way for a man to assure his child had his name, thereby securing his ownership of said child. A woman traditionally loses her surname when she marries.

Another reason for marriage was exclusive sexual access.

Before the feminist revolution women where not allowed to work, they where not allowed to vote, they where not allowed to do anything other than attend to their husband and children, clean the house, wash the clothes, cook the food. Pretty difficult to feed, clothe and house yourself and your child when you are unable to earn a penny, the only real solution would be to give up all your freedom, your identity, all rights to your children and get married. That’s called slavery, not love; it can’t be love if you have no choice.

I am yet to find one conclusive, irrefutable, definite, convincing, really solid, good reason to get married.

Yes the romantic notion of declaring your undying love and desire to remain bonded to that one person for all eternity, or until death do you part, is wonderful. Gives me butterflies; makes me think of my childhood wish to be loved so greatly by one man that he would “travel oceans of time to be with” me, defy God and drink human blood, all so he could be reunited with my reincarnated self (thanks Bram Stoker & Francis Ford Coppola). But still the romantic in me screams that this adolescent fantasy is far purer than the slavery of our traditional marriage.

So until my research can give me a better reason than any I have found thus far; I’ll simply continue to smile and shake my head in a hopefully non threatening manner while saying:

“I don’t want to get married”.

REFERENCES:

Concise Oxford English Dictionary:

cleave ~ v. (cleave to) literary 1 stick fast to. 2 adhere strongly to or become very involved with: most schools cleave strongly to received policy.

covet ~ v. yearn to possess (something belonging to someone else).

Hammurabinees ~ n. archaic the language of Hammurabi.

marriage ~ n 1 the formal union of a man and a woman, typically as recognized by law, by which they become husband and wife. 2 a combination of elements.

- Origin ME: from Ofr. Marriage, from marier ‘marry’

marriageable ~ adj. fit or suitable for marriage, especially in being wealthy or of the right age.

- DERIVATIVES marriageability n.

marriage guidance ~ n (in the UK) couselling of married couples who have problems I their relationship.

marriage of convenience ~ n a marriage concluded primarily to achieve a practical purpose.

married ~ adj. relating to or united by marriage.

prophet ~ n. 1 an inspired teacher or proclaimer of the will of God. 2 a person who predicts the future. ~ a person who advocates a new belief or theory.

Torah ~ n. (in Judaism) the law of God as revealed to Moses and recorded in the Pentateuch.

Slave ~ n. 1 historical a person who is the legal property of another and is forced to obey them. ~ a person who is excessively dependent upon or controlled by something.

~ v. 1 work excessively hard. 2 (as noun slaving) historical the action or process of enslaving people. 3 subject to control by another

- Origin ME: shortening of OFr. esclave, equivalent of med. L. sclava (fem.) ‘Slavonic (captive)’.

wroth ~ adj. archaic angry.

Thanks to the Oracle (Google), Wikkipedia and all other sites the Oracle said I should visit.