rockin' and rollin' all week long

I don't know where the analysis part of my brain has gone. Not quite true. I do know I've been thinking about some things that don't belong on my blog. I speculate that the relentlessness of winter has something to do with it as well. I haven't blogged about anything more thoughtful than sewing for weeks.

Tonight is not the night for breaking through the puffy stuff either. So I present to you, with nary an intelligent caption, a favourite of my childhood:

I found him here. My Dad had this old battery radio, butter yellow with red casing, which I used to prop up beside the trampoline and jump and flip endlessly to the sounds of Radio Nelson. If it occasionally was temperamental, I would bang it just like the Fonz, to make it go again.

This afternoon I took the kids and my elderly cousin M to the art gallery (we only have one in Wetville) to see the local photography competition entries. They were fantastic, and now Fionn has seen the under 12s section, he wants to enter next year.



I've started on the yoke for my flowery curtain fabric skirt. I ran out of flowery curtain fabric for the back yoke, so it is blue with white spots instead. I never tuck tops in, so I expect the spotty fabric won't show much. I do like the heavy, firm weight of the curtain fabric in sewing terms. It stays in the right place, which is more than I can say for those stretchy knit fabrics I tore my patience and tension up with not so long ago.

Fundraising season continues. It's never too cold or dark too early for fundraising it seems. I shelled out $20 for kindy raffle tickets today as I refuse to hawk tickets round when all my friends are also finding money for their own kids' activities. A notice comes home from Fionn's school every week inviting me to gift sugar or corn chips or bottles, plus endless opportunities to gift my time and skills. It can only be one thing. Gala season. I'm expecting league raffle tickets just as soon as I've shut my wallet for five seconds.

Quietly not ticking away at all is my contribution to the next Blackball working class history museum exhibition on care workers. Which puts a stretch on my next thought, which is that in the light of a comment from HarvestBird earlier this week:
I worry, on and off, about the gradual withdrawal of empathy in the rest of the country, as colleagues recount stories of being lectured by people in call centres and other service contacts on the question of “why don’t you just leave?”
what could I do or get a group together to do, which would be fantastic for Christchurch people? I'm really pleased with our dressups for Christchurch kindies project, which yielded two big bags of play goodies, mostly dressups, for the ravaged preschool play spaces. Perhaps, in light of my lack of achievement on the Blackball museum front, I should just send money to womens refuge and throw some project energy closer to home. Hmmm. maybe. Maybe some play jewellery for the women's refuge... Frivolous, but couldn't a little frivolity be a welcome distraction?

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