Monday 17 March 2008

Hand Tools

It's almost time to advertise our new business "MetalSmithery", and the Machinist and Number One Son are busy with plans on what type of metal designs they will make for the launch. It's important to always stay at least two to three months ahead of time and work on items relevant to specific holidays, seasons and up and coming event themes that aren't happening now, but in the near future. I learned this from many homemaking and country magazines that the Young Ladies and I read. For instance, the editors and staff work on Christmas topics and themes in October. Or summer fun and lots of outdoor eating and decorating in September.

It's my job to send photos, artwork and logos to the company who are busy building our website, and I find this very challenging, because I can't think 'creative' while I'm busy thinking and applying 'practical' to the here and now. I've realised, with chagrin, how underskilled I am at doing several things at once. A friend once declared that '...all mothers can do several things at once....'. I had to enlighten her to the fact that this particular mother could not. Fact is, I never could. I'm an all or nothing type of girl.

But you know - I try. I really do.

The Machine Shop has been steaming hot, as we have no insulation. The Machinist keeps both of the roller doors open for maximum breeze and air circulation. I am horrified at this, because I always have images of pesky brown snakes slithering in when we aren't looking! The cats and the puppies venture in and out all day long. They like to be with us, but ... well.... when the temperatures soar, they don't like to be with us that much, and they return to the cool of the plum or quince tree.

It was on one such hot day that I attempted to take my own photos of the Machine shop. I gathered some of the Machinist's HAND tools of trade, spread them out on a welding-splattered iron bench and proceeded to take the shots, trying to be really creative by using settings on the digital camera that I've never used before. One in particular called "Collections". I don't know if it's much different to the regular setting I use. I sent some to the Webmaster, so that he could spin his magic. (Thanks, Vent - )

I'm waiting for the results and will post here when all is done...

Tuesday 11 March 2008

Walking the Puppies

This is Bobby.....

And this is Polly .......

The Machinist made them a recherche ground floor apartment, situated under the back deck. Now that there is a nip in the air, the 'puppies', as we still call them, aren't too eager to leave their cosy kennel and throw themselves at the back door, (as they usually do in the morning) in an attempt to gain entry into the kitchen. Instead, they wait until they hear the sliding door open, scramble out of their blankies and race to the open door. They won't come in until invited, though, as that would be thoroughly bad manners.

The Machinist positions me at the front door. I hold it wide open, and hide behind it. Then, he opens the back door, greets the puppies, (who are at this stage yelping with excitement) and tells them "walkies". They race through the kitchen, then through the front room and straight out of the front door, where they suddenly slam on their paw-brakes.

"Where's the mistress?" they seem to ask, looking around the front garden for me.

The puppies are just too cute, and I can't stand it any more, so I step outside and fuss them, while the Machinist clips their leashes onto their collars.

It's usually around 6.45am when we go walking. There is a thick line of mist at the bottom of the range, while the top is burned amber. There is dampness in each breath we take. The smell of ripe berries on hawthorn bushes fills the air. Neighbourhood dogs bark as we pass their territories. Garrulous cockatoos are common, early morning rioters. A daring rabbit crosses our path, and the puppies begin to tug....

The Machinist tightens his grip on their leashes.

We arrive at the oval. Time for the puppies to be let loose and race against each other. Bobby is unclipped first, and he goes for a pee in the same place each day. Polly copies him, determined to have the upper hand. As Bobby takes off, Polly barks at him, as if she's reprimanding him to slow down, or to let her go first. Bobby ignores her, and begins to race around the perimeter of the oval. Polly chases him, running as fast as her short, stocky legs will carry her. Suddenly, she trips over a large sod of grass, and her chin slides along the hard, compact earth. Only for a microsecond, though.

Yes, Polly is really determined.

The rest of the morning walk is usually uneventful, as the puppies are wet from the morning dew (they despise being wet), tired and panting. The Machinist lets them off a little before our driveway. Bobby does his usual pee, Polly copies him, then they race to the house.

And the winner is.......


Thursday 6 March 2008

Musical Distractions

This is a pic of my dear Da on my son's drums. He and mam had come to visit for the day and just after lunch, while the Responsible Adults were chatting around the kitchen table, Number One Son started pelting on his musical instruments.

Drums. Guitar. Drums. Guitar. First a blast from one, then the other.

Not wanting to miss out on the fun and the action, Grandpa left the table, walked down the corridor and poked his head around his grandson's bedroom door, knocking half heartedly, while already propping his right foot between said door and doorframe. Then, he was in the room, with drumsticks in hand, still musing how much he prefered the Uke to any other instrument. He began to ra-ta-ta-ta on the drum, now and again clashing the cymbals with a mere flick of the wrist, while all the time, sporting a cat-eating-cream look on his face.

Not long into the jamming session with his grandson, Grandpa was left aghast, as Granny, having moved stealthily and swiftly across the room, gently took the drumsticks from her dearly beloved's hands and proceeded to have her turn at the set;

Here she is thrashing it out with Number One Son.

Note that granny has one of the girls' black aprons on. She won't work in the kitchen without it, so we make sure there are plenty of aprons in the drawers when Granny visits. We're getting a little worried now, though, as Granny's distraction is evident; she'd rather have fun with instruments than kitchen duty.

Sheesh, what's this world coming to?


 Table talk amongst our children is and always has been, -  a rabbit warren . We start off in one hole and end up in another -  quick smart....