a 6.5 earthquake, and I didn't even feel it

There's been a swarm of earthquakes and aftershocks over the last three days:
The one that hit on Friday made our office building shake and we all scamperd under our desks.
There were three early this morning, and I slept through two of them. The third rocked our bed enough to wake me up, but not so much to prevent us from going back to sleep.
The relatively big one was just after 5pm today, 6.5 on the Richter scale. I was in the car with TLM and we didn't feel a damn thing.
On the news it sounded like buildings in the city centre suffered damage here and there, and I heard that the power went out in a couple of suburbs.
But here at my place, and even at my mums place, there's little trace of the shake (except for my mum's nerves).
Lucky, I guess.

A history of the artist

In another attempt to rid my sensitive eyes of whatever's making them go vampire-red every day, I did a total spring-clean of my bedroom. This meant shifting furniture, pulling bits and pieces from wherever they'd been wedged in between furniture, and removing the rug. I mopped the wooden floor with hot soapy water, wet-dusted everything except the clothes hanging on my garment racks and even cleaned the windows (frame and glass).

The only parts I didn't do were the walls, because I'd only be able to clean the lower 5 feet of them.

At some time in the past, the boy had decided to wedge in my old paintings and sketches in behind my tea chest. so I dusted off the plastic folders and took everything out to see whether I wanted to keep anything.

Amongst the self-conscious scribbles from my art classes and my attempts at abstraction were a number of nudes which I'd mostly forgotten about, as well as a couple of self portraits which were a revelation.

In the end, I was happy to chuck out about 80% of that stuff. But I kept my favourite painting and drawing.

My knitted dress

I thought it turned out quite well. It's the cable panel dress from Designer Knitting magazine