We all laughed when my friend's brother, at their dad's funeral, talked about how thrifty the dad was - how he refused to chuck out his favourite armchair, and bought toilet paper in bulk. I laughed because my mum is a lot like that.
My mum used to by loo paper in cartons of 72. They rested in her spare room alongside the equally bulk cartons of laundry powder and dishwashing liquid. (In a civil defence situation she might run out of drinking water but she'd have a spotless bum.) And she uses a pastry brush old enough to remember my first teen-angst tantrum.
So, if the new undies I bought for TLM turn out to be too small ( apparently Asian 7-8 year olds are the same size as Kiwi 4-5 year olds) - is it over the top to sew little scrap fabric inserts into the sides to make them big enough?
All this knitting, sewing, walking in the woods and working for a not-for-profit has finally put me on the path towards eco-awareness. Better late then never eh? Plus the other stuff in my life.
Sunday, September 29, 2013
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Attending the funeral of someone you don't know (well) - supportive or morbid?
This is an issue that I've been struggling with for the last few months, because three of my friends have lost a parent this year.
Even though I'd only met said parent a few times (when I'd known the friend for many years), I went to the funeral because it seemed the best way for me to offer support to the friend. After all, I can't whip up a casserole and I'm really no good at touchy feeling hugging (it's my Chinese upbringing probably).
Surely if they didn't want me to go to their parent's funeral they wouldn't have passed on the details to me? But when I was there I'd felt quite awkward because, unlike those who got up to speak, I had no stories about this person. There was little connecting me to them.
The boy thinks that it's morbid and not really right to go to a funeral unless you know them reasonably well.
But a couple of years ago when one of my workmates lost his dad, our whole office closed up for the afternoon to attend the funeral even though most of us (maybe all of us) had never met the dad. In that case, the colleague seemed genuinely pleased to see us.
I really don't know whether there's some definite protocol about this situation. Is it different depending on the country?
Even though I'd only met said parent a few times (when I'd known the friend for many years), I went to the funeral because it seemed the best way for me to offer support to the friend. After all, I can't whip up a casserole and I'm really no good at touchy feeling hugging (it's my Chinese upbringing probably).
Surely if they didn't want me to go to their parent's funeral they wouldn't have passed on the details to me? But when I was there I'd felt quite awkward because, unlike those who got up to speak, I had no stories about this person. There was little connecting me to them.
The boy thinks that it's morbid and not really right to go to a funeral unless you know them reasonably well.
But a couple of years ago when one of my workmates lost his dad, our whole office closed up for the afternoon to attend the funeral even though most of us (maybe all of us) had never met the dad. In that case, the colleague seemed genuinely pleased to see us.
I really don't know whether there's some definite protocol about this situation. Is it different depending on the country?
Tuesday, September 03, 2013
My new favourite sweater-I-knitted-myself
Here's the second-to-latest thing I've knitted - a tweedy blue A-line sweater with removable cowl and elbow length sleeves. I've been wearing it a lot - whenever it's been cold enough (even though it hasn't actually been cold much this winter. Is this what winter in Queensland is like?)
Slight more info is on Ravelry.
This might be my mostly style-y outfit right now - the sweater with a navy merino dress, black tights and studded cherry red ankle boots.
Slight more info is on Ravelry.
This might be my mostly style-y outfit right now - the sweater with a navy merino dress, black tights and studded cherry red ankle boots.
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