Since there are so many New Years throughout the world, I am at a loss as to wether I shall wish you all a happy new one. Technically, for me and many others this is the first day of 2011, which is kind of scary.
I still remember the first day of 2000 (in Glasgow...boy, did we see loads of still- smoldering car ruins! (and a fair number of human equivalents) We loved every second.
2010 was memorable in many ways for us- unfortunately, largely for all the wrong reasons. Hang on... maybe one remembers stuff... largely wrong. I was about to say "financial straits, dissatisfaction with the job, getting robbed at home and at work, this, that and the other". What a silly way to round things up.
It' s a lot more healthy to look back on the really good stuff that happened.
For one thing, I started this blog, thanks to
Mad Mich L. What a wonderful person to come into my (pixel-) life!
She got me started on a journey that restored my faith in mankind after life thoroughly wrecked it. And she gave me reason and excuse to come up with stuff I never thought I would createincluding jewellery, bats, ghosts and sugary xmas decorations.
Also, I found my way to
Folksy, a wonderful "british" alternative to Etsy and populated by the most lovely, talented and inspiring people you could imagine. I am still overwhelmed at how nice and friendly everbody was and is towards me, even though since the robbery, I have mostly been quiet in the community. If, as a local artisan, you need support and encouragement, go folksy yourself. You will be amazed.
The Man has been a real pleasure to be around most of the time, and I'd be sincerely surprised if he could say as much about me. We are pretty much two sides of the same coin- where he is tolerant, I am judgmental. Where he is patient, I am fiery. Where he is lenient, I want heads to roll. Where he gets disappointed, though, I am not surprised, and where he gets burned, I wear the asbestos underwear. In many ways, he should be writing this blog, because he could be the genetical experiment where Jim Carrey, Billy Connolly, John Belushi, Martha Stewart, Jamie Oliver, Gordon Ramsey and Woody Allen each donate a toenail and the result gets to wear nappies. I, on the other hand, am called Scrooge on good days and make children check the dark areas of their bedrooms on average ones.
Another good thing... and I mean, a real good thing, has been my Mum. She calls me Loewenbaby (german for lion cub), because we are both star sign leo and (even though none of us actually believes in astrology) bloody typical of what 99 p magazines say we are like.
She is fiercely protective over her (can you believe it?) 32 year old cub and like a crown jewel. No, scrap that. She is THE jewel. The version of myself I always knew I could be if I only was more understanding, more protective, more patient, more thoughtful, more ... her. Dammit, when I was 13 or 14 and dating my first boyfriend, I passed her off as my older sister and went to meet the lad with her in tow, only to take the mickey out of him with her over a big, fat bowl of ice cream afterwards. What a blast!
Looking around me, I see a stuffed Bob the Builder toy about the size of an average 3 year old. On top of my bookshelf there is a Bob the Builder play- o- rama (couldn't find the battery slot to disable the darn thing, so I hid it when Aaron went to the loo), and half the house is covered in glittery plastic stars I threw over the kids a few days ago when the wee man complained he couldn't see any stars in the sky. We afterwards stuck them to the windows with spit. You don't want to get the glue out when there's minions about. You just don't. And there's nothing wrong with spit in small doses.
I also see a room with no carpet and mustard coloured floor boards (ever had four cats puke on the same spot of your cheap landlord- provided carpet?), a sleeping Man, no cat, half a smoked cigarette at the fireplace (the only place we smoke in the house- we blow the smoke right up the chimney and you can't smell there's stupid, idiotic, suicidal, money- burning smokers in the house at all!), a box of Country Manor wine (an acquired, but quite refreshing taste), endless books about serial killers, a wonderful knock- off victorian birdcage with Twit and Twoo plus nest in it (stay tuned for pictures, they defy common good taste, but are totally US!), a silk scarf- turned main deco made by Mum and a load of stuff that once we are dead, people won't even donate to the charity shop, but means loads to us.
Not quite your average stylish mansion you would love to live in and be able to decorate and re- decorate endlessly. Not even your average family home. But in the last 12 months or so, it has turned into our den, our refuge, our, dare I say, home, cat p!ss on the door mat and all. We might turn on the light in our bathroom by pulling a string with a stuffed monkey soft toy dangling from it (and we can't even blame the kids) , and we might have grave candles from Slovenia in our garden, right next to a fat Buddha. Our spiders might be hard enough to knock the neighbour's spiders lights out, and I might feed the rats in our garden on the odd occasion, but that's it- the Three Bed Semi and what it was like to live in it in 2010.
Sure you wanna stick around for 2011?
Let me put you off. (the casual use of pictures NOT taken in 2010 is non- intentional and a delusion instilled into your brain by the government of Micronesia)
Happy Resolutions Day, everybody, I shall be posting crafts again very soon as all this reflective time of year is finally over. I always hate myself in hindsight and mirrors, both make me look fat!
x
