I soldiered on

I knew it was going to be a really busy day at work today, so I gobbled up my medications and packed some Codral as well (that's the stuff that makes your cold symptoms go away so you can attend your daughter's wedding / spend a day at the office / still take that beach vacation). And I had a good day of it too, with only occasional telltale coughs, sneezes and wheezes.

Most of the day was spent interviewing applicants for a short project we are trying to get finished. I've never really been involved in the hiring process before (except as an applicant), so it was really interesting how different an impression you can get about a person from their CV, from talking to them, and from getting them to do an actual task for you.

For instance, there was one application which looked only so-so; there wasn't much in it that told us she could do the job. But we decided to interview her anyway. And she came across as being potentially really useful, because she seemed to have done similar work before and said all the right things about the importance of attention to detail. But after we came back to check how she'd gone with the little test we'd prepared - what a disaster! It looked as though she'd never used a spreadsheet before.

So after 7 back-to-back interviews, a run through all the test results and a debrief, I had to sit through a long meeting and didn't get out of there until 5 (I normally finish at 4.30).

So I guess I have to hand it to the drug-making folks who make Codral. It sure did work today.

Breathless

"I've been coughing since June", I told the doctor. And I have, though there were moments when it seemed to get better - just before another virus came along and made it worse again. Lately, I've have been deliberately looking my worst when visiting the doctors', just to make sure they take my illnesses seriously. This morning I looked like a vampire, though not as glamorous.

The doctor listened to my chest as I tried to breathe deeply - I managed two before collapsing into the kind of scary-arse hacking that, in old movies, means you've got TB. Apparently it quite alarmed him (the boy was there to see).

So now I have a new, stronger asthma preventer, some cough syrup, antibiotics for the chest infection and another course of Prednisone. On the plus side, I already feel heaps better than I did 4 hours ago.

It's got me thinking that I really ought to do something about my asthma. I used to be able to blow a 700 on the peak flow meter, no problem. Now I'm lucky to get over 400. I can't afford the time or money to resume my pre-TLM gym regime, which is probably the thing that really helped me. And I can't kick the boy out of the house either (nor can I make him give up smoking, because really only he can make that decision). Maybe, when I'm better, I could try swimming a couple of times per week.

Or maybe I should just buy myself a packet of face masks and spend my sewing time cleaning the house. Ugh.

An early spring

For once, the skimpy dresses in floral chiffon that decorate every women's dress shop window, are not entirely out of sync with the weather. In other words, we've been having some pretty nice weather lately.

We are having an early spring. Apparently this doesn't necessarily translate to a longer-than-usual spring, just an early one - which ultimately means an early end to summer. But that doesn't stop me from enjoying the clothes-drying temperatures. I just love sitting outside on the step, feeling the warmth on my skin, even if it means risking a sunburn-induced cold sore. It makes me wonder whether I can do a goth-summer kind of look, because florals really aren't my thing.

There's one other thing. If it is spring already, then I have officially been sick ALL winter.

Saturday night in bed

...and not in that way, either.

I had hoped to spend the evening putting my coat together - I finally got going with the construction last week (which is why I've been silent on the blogging front) and wanted to make the most of this evening alone (the boy was going to go out and watch the rugby with my ex-guy friends - I say "ex" because I never see them any more). I reckon I'm about 25-30 percent done, which is not bad considering I'm working with a fast-fraying fabric which leaves the carpet looking like it's had a shave but no-one's bothered to come sweep up the cuttings.

But TLM got me up a couple of times last night, so I'm feeling really tired - and now I have a headache.

So I'm going to bed early. G'night.

Because nagging works

I may be a superb example of paralysis-by-analysis, or maybe just plain lazy, but it's nice to know that I can perform when the pressure is on.

So while I have been a prize procrastinator regarding cutting my spring coat, fixing my men's shirt refashion and fixing my denim shell-top refashion (have decided to find 2 more pairs of old jeans and turn it into a dress, then dye the whole lot) - it wasn't the case for TLM's Dora skirt.

When she accompanied me to Spotlight a couple of weeks back, I promised to get her some Dora fabric. Then I left it lying around with very little intention of actually sewing with it in the near future. But TLM was having a very at-sixes-and-sevens post-birthday-party sort of day and insisted that I make her a skirt RIGHT NOW, please???

So I measured her up, thought about how to do it, and half an hour later she is wearing her brand new Dora skirt. Thank goodness she is not as fashion-aware as she is fussy.

In case you're wondering (which of course you are), all I did was fold the fabric in half across, sew a seam up the side, put a casing in the top for an elastic band, and hem it up. Only a four year old cutie could look pretty in it.

Thankful for accidental protection

Last night the boy wanted to get some takeaways for dinner, so we had some lamb rogan josh delivered. But I'd had a couple of cream-filled brandy snaps (the boy does like to spoil me with yummy junk food), so I wasn't that hungry.

So I did the sensible thing, which was to eat half of my lamb rogan josh and pack the rest away for my lunch tomorrow. (Never mind that, an hour later, I was hungry again and munching on toast and leftover roti).

I put it in one of those sealable plastic boxes that takeaways come in, inside a supermarket bag for extra protection - so it wouldn't stain the inside of my nice work bag.

Only, when I took it out at lunchtime, I was horrified to discover that the oily brown sauce had leaked through the plastic bag. Oh no! I gingerly ran my hand over the lining of my bag, anticipating the slosh of grease on my fingers. But I didn't feel anything. So I shrugged, thanked the gods for small miracles and went to put my lunch in the microwave oven.

It wasn't until the end of the day, when I was reached into my bag for my spare packet of lozenges, that I noticed the discoloration on one side of the green Fisherman's Friend packet. It was slightly oily and golden brown colour.

Donut cake

Tomorrow is TLM's birthday and, as is customary, we are (or rather, the boy is) bringing a cake in to daycare so she can celebrate with her daycare buddies.

This time last year, I baked a big chocolate cake, covered it in a rich chocolatey butter icing and topped it all off with loads of coloured M and M's.

This year it's the boy's turn to produce a cake. And he is bringing a mass of mini-donuts, all iced and covered in sprinkles, and sort of rounded up into a vague cake hill on a plate. Apparently it was TLM's idea.

Progress on my spring coat

Over the course of a week, I have managed to wash and dry my fabrics, and cut out the lining pieces. And I've only achieved this by breaking the tasks into manageable bits that could be done in 30 minute chunks of time.

But I have been putting off cutting out the actual coat pieces, and this is because I did something kinda dumb - I bought fabric with a plaid-like weave, which means all the bits have to match up.
(It's over on the right - an Italian cotton black and white houndstoothy thing with subtle pink lines running through in a criss-cross fashion). I did consider putting the fabric aside for another project and buy something easier to work with, but I don't want to have to go out and spend more money and - hey - it was on sale for only about 6 bucks per metre. So I will persist.

Earliness is all relative

A friend and I are are organising a weekend playdate (for our respective kids, that is) via email.

"Is 9am good for you?" she asks.

Gawd, I think, that's a bit blimmin' early. So I suggest 10am instead.

And then I remember that it was not that long ago when TLM and I would be knocking around at 8am, looking for somewhere to go.

It's nice to know that we don't entirely lose the ability to sleep in, after having kids.

Soon to be 4

By this time last year I would have already booked a venue for TLM's birthday party, emailed invites to all her friends, decided on what food would be available, and possibly already have opened up the present that her Nanna sent from England.

But due to massive poorliness on my part, followed by yet more poorliness on the boy's part, nothing was organised - at all - until last night.

So, with only a week and a half's notice, we now know where and when the party will be. The boy has bought some invitations and party hats. Now all I have to do is decide whether I can manage the rice bubble slices and chocolate cake without coughing all over them.

Party pooped

There has been a run of kids' birthday parties lately, including two just this weekend. And of course, I have left the present-buying till the last minute.

So yesterday, I spent the morning buying a present for one of TLM's friends, plus groceries. Then we had a one hour break before it was time to go to the party. And right after that it was time to visit the cousins for dinner.

As for today, I spent all morning walking my mum around the produce market and supermarket at a soul-deadening pace, followed by a rushed half hour looking for a present for today's birthday party (because I was stupid and didn't just buy two presents yesterday). There was a 20-minute break for lunch, and then we were off for the next party. After the party, I checked the time and realised (with much joy) that I would have enough time to scoot off to Spotlight to look for the coat sewing pattern I want so much. But then the boy texted and asked me to get some rolls and stuff for tea. So we didn't get home till 5pm, when I discovered that I was supposed to also buy fags and wine for the boy ( who suffers terribly from withdrawal if he doesn't get his hourly smoke).
Which meant I had to go to the supermarket again.

Shattered, I was.
But then I picked up the new sewing pattern for my coat (not the one I really wanted, but one which will do), got interested and found some energy again.
Still, an early night methinks.

Perhaps I should be flattered

It's 9pm and we're watching Tuesday night's episode of Outrageous Fortune.

The phone rings. I curse, then get up to answer it.

"Hello?" I ask in my still-husky voice.
"Ah...could I speak to your mum or dad please?" says the voice on the other end.

!!!

"Um...no." I say.
"Oh, why?"
"Because..they don't live here. Who are you?"
"Oh, this is just a marketing call. Sorry, bye."

It was very slightly surreal.

I didn't buy the coat

Thanks for your opinions, oh wise readers.
I have decided not to buy that coat.
The boy thought it made me look like a little girl in an oversized grown-up's blazer. Not that I have anything about oversized as a fashion style, only it isn't so styley if the wearer is short enough to pass for an actual little girl (albeit not as smooth-faced or bright-eyed).

Also, although I like the green - it's not my preferred colour for a coat. I'd rather it was a deep plum or a bright violet.

And, to borrow from the Project Runway judges - it doesn't look expensive enough.

But it has given me the idea of sewing my own coat. I like these two - the orange one in the top picture and the pink one in the bottom picture:


Of course I would start with, say, a dark denim spring coat - then, if all went well, go on to a nice tweed winter coat in a similar style. By the time I got through all that cutting and fitting and sewing and re-sewing, it would be the right time to wear winter coats again!

Or maybe that is too ambitious for someone who has only made one good buttonhole in the last 20 years...

Should I buy this coat?

It's 100% wool, and is actually quite slimming when I'm not wearing it buttoned up over three layers of clothing (including a thick merino/possum cardigan). It's just the right length for me too - just above the knee. And the wool is lovely and soft. And once I get small shoulder pads put in, the shoulders won't look quite so wobbly.
It's at half price too (plus the cost of putting the shoulder pads in, taking in the belt band at back, and shortening the sleeves).

But even at half price, it'll still cost me almost 400 smackeroos.

The boy's idea of a joke

"I've got a present for you", said the boy, getting up from his chair. Usually when he says that, it means one of two things:

1. a cake, or
2. a DVD.

He seemed to be heading for the fridge, so I tried to guess whether he'd got me an apple slice, a cheesecake, a chocolate-iced banana cake or...something else.
Then he abruptly changed direction and headed towards the DVD shelves.

Ooh, I hoped that it was Project Runway Season Two!

But no. It was "The Librarian". The trilogy. I'd heard of the first one; it was released during the time I was studying to be a librarian (and failed - TLM was conceived). It sounded awful and I had no idea they'd made two sequels.

So, the boy's reasoning is that we will enjoy the movies because:

1. I used to be a librarian-in-training, and
2. he'd heard they were pretty bad in a good way.

We shall see...we shall see.

Maybe I should have stuck to the bag idea.

So, here is the shell top I made out of the boy's thrown-away designer jeans. It's pretty wrinkled, which doesn't help it's appearance.
Basically I used the bodice part of a dress pattern, New Look 6824, and extended the pattern pieces so that it ended at roughly hip length rather than waist length. I had to adjust it for fit, and omitted the zip because I was able to get it on and off okay without one. Then I made the mistake of turning the classic shell neckline into a v-neck, thinking it would be more flattering. But all I did was make it look less like a shell top.
The binding was there to prevent fraying and also to give me practice in using bias binding - but it doesn't really go with the denim does it? Although once it's on, you can only see the binding at the hem.

Oh yes, and because the jeans had holey knees, I couldn't get long enough pieces of denim to make the top long enough for me. So I tried patching two pieces at the front. On a thinner person, this might have been okay.

What I was pleased about, was that I found a good place to put the original back pockets. I think they give the top a bit of a flare (not flair).

Tragically, the finished product looks rubbish on me. Perhaps if I had picked a darker denim and if the jeans weren't frayed at the knees (so I could avoid that horizontal seam at the waist), and hadn't ruined the neckline - maybe then it would be okay. Or maybe princess line styles don't suit women with wide waists.

So I'm gonna put in back on the refashion pile until I think of something else to do with it.

Turning it into a satchel probably would've worked out better.

The coat that got away

A couple of months ago, when I was looking for a nice winter wool coat, I found a lovely one in violet (the colour). It had a nice silhouette - semi-fitted to the waist, then flaring out to below my knees, with slightly puffy cuffed sleeves. On the other hand it was too long (on a normal-height woman it would be above knee length) and the sleeves were so long that my hands disappeared into them. Plus, I wasn't sure whether the colour would be horrendously dated by next winter.

I also didn't buy it because I'd just spent too much money some fab black riding boots.

But my mind kept wandering back to that coat, and every time I browsed the Max online shop, I'd look for it in case it went on sale.

It went on sale - at half price!
But I only noticed when I went into the shop looking for a hat to wear home in the gale force winds. And they didn't have it in my size any more.

I must stay strong, and wait for the next really nice coat instead of settling for something fatteningly double-breasted or boringly camel or something that fits like a rice sack.

This time next week I might be shouting

I might complain a lot about my mum always ringing me up and nagging me to get back to the doctor's, but it works. The nagging, that is. I went back to the doctor's this morning, just for a follow-up to make sure that I really am getting better, and although my virus and bacterial infections are pretty much down and dusted - I still have a way to go with the coughing, wheezing and raspy hoarseness.

So now I have a course of prednisone, which I think is some super-steroid to help supplement my asthma medication. Hopefully when my voice returns, it will still sound female.

On the other hand, I've heard that many men are very attracted to women with deep, husky voices.

I miss my voice

Quite apart from (still) not being able to read to TLM or sing her songs at bedtime, I miss not having a fully working voice:

• It means I can't just shout "Thanks, driver!" when I get off the bus, which everyone does except for the really impolite and the non-English-speaking.
• It means I can't join in when Mr Finance Manager and Ms Admin Support are trading quips. I'm normally good for a laugh, you know.
• Quality time with TLM is pretty hard to achieve when I get home from work and by then I can only whisper.
• I can still smile if I'm feeling cheerful, but a good vocal blasting of a silly song just can't be beat.

On the up

I went back to work today, because:
1. I have taken about 14 days of sick leave
2. I haven't had the shakes in the last 3 mornings
3. My eyelids no longer look like small marshmallows (actually, small pillows might be more accurate)
4. I was worried that work would find someone to take over, who'd actually turn up.

Unfortunately the boy is now sick, either with a variation of my bug or with something new and exciting. This meant I had to to the daycare drop-off. By the time I'd returned the car home, I was all tired out. But I was all dressed for work so I thought, what the hell - may as well go to work anyway.

And it wasn't too bad. My co-workers cheered when I walked into the office, and only one of them visibly avoided getting too close to me and my germs. Although I did end up leaving early, because my head and throat started to hurt around midday.

TLM seems to have become quite used to having Daddy around all the time, instead of Mummy. she tends to call for him rather than me, and knows not to ask me to sing to her at night. It's only very slightly sad for me because I know that the boy had been on the vice versa until he was recession-hit.