A proud man and his compost bin

We love compost around here, but we've never had much success with producing our own. We have a mulch heap, but it's also our repository for green waste from the garden and the chooks love to scratch around in there too. The end result is a scattered heap of passionfruit prunings adorned with old Twinings teabags. Neither have we ever really taken the time to learn about the science of composting. The idea of there being a 'right' way to dispose of last night's dinner scraps has never really sat well with me. However after glimpsing the world's most perfect compost bin ever (or so we surmised) on an episode of that new backyards show on Sunday nights, Mark was inspired to create...this.
Two compartments, on stilts above the ground and with lids (to foil the rats), with wire on the bottom, which will allow the compost as it's formed to fall into a neat and elegant pile on a platform underneath the bins, from where it can be easily shoveled into a waiting wheelbarrow. In theory. We know there are no certainties when it comes to the dark art of composting, especially if you're as slapdash as we are. But we're hopeful. If nothing else, we have finally managed to engage Martha with the world of decomposing organic matter (isn't this every parent's dream?). We're not sure yet whether this will prove to be a good or bad thing. I guess this will only become obvious in a month or two...once she has learnt how to clamber up those slats.

PS No, Martha did not retrieve that piece of cake from the slops!

Brown baby

Her parents are pale and slow to tan, but this one has inherited her maternal grandfather's olive skin.

Obi one

In the last seventeen years I have used my sewing machine exactly five times. Four of these times have been during the last fortnight*. Sitting down and sewing...it's a good feeling. But why now? I think it's a combination of having the machine now permanently set up, having at my fingertips a whole bunch of lovely bits and pieces of fabric that I emancipated from Mum's sewing room, reaching some kind of peak in my long held desire to make my (our) own clothes, and seeing this, which of all the beautiful things I see in my travels around the blogosphere, somehow managed to trigger something in me that said, yes, I could have a go at something like that.
So, this is my second attempt at a 'scarf'. Actually, it's kind of weighty, so maybe it's more of an obi, or even a turban if you're feeling adventurous. (Whatever it is, it needs a good iron). It was fun to make, and I learned a lot. Such as sometimes when you think you're sewing in a straight line, you're really not, and that there is a really good reason that you can use different thread colours for your spool and bobbin.

*Mark's response on reading this: 'And all this time we've been carting that damn thing all over the country?!'

Buzzy

Check out these gorgeous fabrics! I love them all, but especially the bitey looking bees from the Japanese Echino range and these startled owls hand printed in Sydney by Kristen Doran. They do not charge shipping within Australia, they are having a sale, they sell in 25 cm increments and I just (finally) got paid. As Martha would say, 'uh oh! UH oh!'

Bag lady

For the last few days Martha has been (literally) dragging around a tatty old plastic shopping bag filled with 'very important' scavenged items - nuts, squashed sultanas, broken pens, hair clips, a mobile phone - from which she will not be parted (like a Womble, makin' a use for the things that she finds, things that the everyday folk leave behind). I've been wanting to make a little bag for her for ages, but just haven't had (or made) the time to sit down and do it. But today, I could bear that horrible plastic no longer. In a forty minute gap between two work interviews I madly cut and sewed at express speed to produce this. It's not my finest moment in handcrafting, but it was one of the most satisfying. As I was ironing it she was standing beside me going 'woof! woof! arf! arf!' (she likes to mix up her dog barks) and when I handed it over, she squealed with delight and ran off to fill it with...stuff.
Er...yes, that is a pair of my undies around her neck. Apparently she feels naked without them.

When we finally unhooked the bag from her arm so that she could have her bath, I had a little peek at what was inside. That's right girls, never head out without a disembodied action man face. You never know when you might need it.

As the crow flies...

...from here to Mackay QLD it is 1918 kilometres.

It's official. After weeks of thinking, deciding, interviewing, updating qualifications and finally accepting, Mark is taking up a new job as an electrician...in Queensland. Actually, it's not so bad. It is a fly in/fly out position, with nine days on (in QLD), followed by five days off (back here), looking after a giant machine that runs on the coal rail lines and somehow 'cleans' them by lifting the tracks and ballast up, shaking them, and laying it all back down again. To me it sounds like it violates a law or two of physics, but I'm assured that this is what it does. It can't be easy though - apparently this machine is high maintenance and quite temperamental - and from what I can gather Mark's new role will include giving it regular pep talks and soothing pats.

We're both looking forward to it, no doubt for different reasons. For me, there is relief that Mark has found something interesting and challenging to do that is also financially rewarding, plus a perverse kind of excitement at flying solo as a parent (I know, I'm sure this will pass) and (re) learning how to spend productive time on my own (I know, I'm sure this will pass too!).

Mark's start date coincides with the annual big machine clean-a-thon (or something) so he will be doing a regular nine day stint, followed by a special five day stint, to be followed by another nine day stint. Yes, this means that his first trip away will be 22 days. After this, I'm sure nine days will seem like a piece of cake.