#CoBloWriMo 10: Not in a Million Years - Changes to plans, and plans still underway

There's definitely costuming / dress-related things I'd class under that heading.

Very high heels, for example. My cutting-off mark is somewhere around 8 cm, which is what my tallest heels are, and I can only walk in those because the shoes have ankle straps.

They are a tad too small for me, but the open heel makes it okay. They also have leather soles, and were only 100 CZK in a thrift shop. Totally worth it for vintage-worthy shoes (possibly really vintage, definitely pre-1989)  for an occasional outing. I've last worn them with my Regency dress, actually... it was raining, and it was, in that case, rather nice not having to worry about dragging my long skirt in puddles.

Also not happening: actually buying crocs shoes. I've worn them, as house-footwear at a friend's place; but it's not something I would do of my own accord. And now with very good reason, too.

I have skin problems. I've had some sort of atopic ecsema on my hands since I was about ten. It disappeared after my stay in the USA in 2007 (probably due to longer-term exposure to sea air); since then, it occasionally reappeared, but it was quite manageable.

Not the sort of thing you can gaze upon from your front porch in the Czech Republic.

And then, last year, in my new job, it came back with a vengeance. I had skin problems, bad problems, elsewhere on my body, too.

It's part of the reason I dropped off the face of the blogosphere.

It got eventually tamed down with a combination of medical help and with switching positions in the company. I first worked with large amounts of dyed and not-yet-washed wool, which I think was the main problem. I now still deal with wool, including the super-awesome employer's discount on faulty pieces (*insert a costumer's squeel*), but it's now without the probably too harsh chemicals, so, yay, my hands are okay.

Wool twill in a sort of greyish-greenish robin-egg colour. That 1797 fashion plate is definitely happening sooner rather than later.

But sometime after the fact, this year, I realised - thanks to a discussion thread in a costuming group on Facebook, no less - that part of last year's problem was also heat rash. Part of the problem, I suspect, was the fact I am unaware of the term "heat rash" even existing in Czech - so I had lived all my life without knowing that was a thing.

And it definitely is a thing. I do have some form of atopic ecsema, there's no denying it; but I'm now convinced my problems last year got so bad because my atopic ecsema (and probably those dye chemicals, and the fact it also turned out I had iron deficiency) got combined with heat rashes. I did suspect sweat was a contributing factor, but because of my other problems, it got overlooked. It was a whole big combination of factors, a hundred times nothing killing the donkey, as the Czech saying goes - with regards to the heat rashes, a combination of changes in themselves not too significant, like a super-hot summer spent comuting in a city with plastic and pleather seats in buses (I could get away with walking a lot before this job), and safety-regulation shoes that were artificial fibre and padded. (That's no longer a requirement in my new position, either - I now just need closed heels and toes, so, phew.) Turns out a lot of the problems can be managed just with zinc cream. (And a lot of other precautions, and other medication when it really does get worse; but on an everyday basis, zinc cream and vaseline are a huge relief after the succession of not-entirely-successful treatments over the years.)


So. The lesson I've taken from this super-unpleasant experience is: plastic and artificial fibre sitting close to my body - not in a million years.

I now put a shawl over the seats in the bus if I'm wearing too short a skirt. And pick train carriages with wool seat covers if I can...

It is bad news for the Regency/early 1820s dress plans I had harboured for this probably polyester sari I bought years and years ago:

Layers of natural fibre underneath or no, the bodice would be close to my body and would not breathe at all; that's very bad news in my world now.

But it is, I think, good news for the Scroop Fantail, because a pleated skirt with judicious use of cotton underneath should be mostly okay. ;-)

The question is... modern, or historical length?

I cut off the borders for general use as trim; maybe a Regency dress can still happen with that.

And the ground fabric could still be used as pretty bag lining or something like that...

Really, all in all, it's actually a good thing I was forced to drop the original plan, because I found out that over the years, the colour has become too dull to wear in a large expanse next to my face.

By which I mean, over the years my colouring has changed to such an extent that I can get away with, even require, much bolder colour combinations:

Good!

In the photo, I wear: the fichu en marmotte, my chemise, the transitional warp-jumps bra-thingy (answer to question whether I can wear the dress over it: yes, but I have to take care to fit the wrap-jumps tightly), a sleeveless dress I never got around to blogging about, a sleeveless bodice I never got around to blogging about, white cotton over-the-knee socks that are my stand-in for historical stockings for the moment, and these shoes. I think there should actually be a shirt or something rather than just the chemise but, as I wrote earlier this month, I haven't figured out that part properly yet.

Also, I completely forgot that, for this photoshoot opportunity (I plan on posting more of the photos later, but by now I'm not promising anything), maybe I could wear some jewellery beyond the baptism-gift ring I wear all the time. Typical.

A Loki-coloured necklace

Some colours just look good together, okay? And I had these black and green glass beads. And these brass-coloured ones (that I suspect are actually glass, too).

And one single orphaned pearly bead.

The colours just work, and I had these beads that needed to be used up.

I was also inspired by some necklaces I've seen online - I had a mental image of a more masculline-y type of necklace, what with the black. It turns out the mental image was for a "twelve step necklace". Huh.

Whatever. I used that orphaned bead in a dignified manner and I now have a necklace to balance out my jewellery hanger. The bluish and silvery side started overpowering the warm-coloured side. That, frankly, was to be expected.

Cleaning up my space + HSF #13: Under $10 - The light entry (and a half)

I am slowly but surely cleaning and organising my room. (I've cleaned out a table for my sewing machine, and now it no longer has to sit on the dining table, yay! More room to cut fabric. :D) There were all these beads and components that I've been holding onto for years, with vague ideas of what I wanted to make, but it was all just catching dust. Pah.

So I went ahead and started making things instead. The idea here is, when the beads are unused, they sit in boxes and jars, using up flat horizontal space, while when they are made up into necklaces, they use up only vertical space on the outer side of the bunk bed (where nobody sleeps anymore):

It's a storage solution that I'm very proud of. :-) A combination of something I saw in an Ikea catalogue (with the hanger and sunglasses) and what I saw on Pinterest - it's here. The original poster used purchased hooks and towel rod, I settled for what I already had and am making my hooks from a (probably aluminum) wire I've found in my father's storage. He said he did not need it. I did. Perfect.

Now only if that stupid old sticker could be scraped off so easily.

* * *

My entry for the challenge was actually made from new beads, which, in their similarity to beads I already had, inspired me to do something about it. One of them - you can sort of see one at the closure that's a slightly different colour - I already had, the memory of which was what prompted me to buy the others. It's a somewhat skewed idea of using what you already have, but it did also prompt me to start using the other colours. ;-)

This is my light entry for the challenge. One that's not strictly historical, but it will serve me well with my historical things. (I have another entry, but it needs to be washed first, because I already managed to squirt cherry juice on it. Just by eating the cherries.)

The Challenge: #13 Under $10
Fabric: none
Pattern: none
Year: non-specific and variable; the idea was something to wear with my Regency clothes, though

Notions: glass beads, spring closure + ring, thin plastic-encased jewellery wire
How historically accurate is it? About 30%, I suppose. The "wire" is very much not and the closure is probably not accurate for Regency. I was using what I had on hand. Simple glass beads, on the other hand, are very historical and will cover me for many decades!
Hours to complete: under an hour
First worn: yesterday
Total cost: The packet of beads was 20 CZK, the wire (of which I used only a part) was 5 CZK. The closure was bought in a packet and I don't remember the cost, but since I only used part of the wire, I think 25 CZK is just about right.

The light blue / aqua of the beads is such a lovely, striking colour that the simplicity of it only enhances it. It's quite short, sitting close to the neck, which is a style you often see with pearls and beads (of whatever material) in the portraits of the era. While the colour may not be what you see often, you also don't often see portraits of more "ordinary" people, so who's to say a girl from a small Bohemian town would not have chosen them?
I'm still hoping for the pearl variety one day, but for the time being, my beloved shade of light blue is more than enough. :-)

* * *

The half:

One of those aforementioned colours of glass beads I already had was this very, very red. I had, years ago, got the idea that they looked like rowanberries, and purchased some components to make them into a rowanberry-inspired tiara or earings or something, when I figure out how.

Since then, I've figured out that with my limited jewellery making skills and the limitations of components you can find in shops, it's not likely to happen. Instead, I've turned to a style that I still don't quite know how to make either, but have some less vague ideas for:

Portrait of a Woman by Henri Francois Mulard, c. 1810, detail

Coral tiaras seem to have been very, very popular - you run across extant pieces often (just google "coral tiara" and see what happens...). They tend to be this exact shade of red, too. Gold components to thread something through are much more common than rowan-shaped ones, so I think sooner or later, I'll chance upon something that I can stick those pre-made parts into. The tiara part is still a little bit unclear, but you do find headbands as well, so I think it's that and glue / wire to the rescue. And I can still pretend they're rowanberries if I want to.

There are also some loose "beads" in the same colour; some larger and some smaller than these. I wrote "beads" in quotation marks, because they have no threading holes. They're just little glass balls.

I've found these for basically all of the colours in the original mix. I guess they're some faulty specimens; but their different sizes could come in useful in a design and I really want to figure out a way to incorporate them...

Binding the stays & the laces - HSF 9: Black and White

I started binding the stays, even though I still have one piece of cord to insert on the other side. I was fed up with the cording, which, considering the cording was probably my favourite part of it, is quite a feat. But with such lovely aqua binding lying around, it's not such a wonder. It's so perfect. It finishes the stays (by now rather Frankensteined and getting on my nerves) into something once again perfectly mine.

It's one of the bias bindings I got from my aunt.

Coloured binding is historical, honest, although I don't recall seeing any blue bindings. It's probably not completely accurate for the super-neoclassical period of all white sheer dresses, but I don't plan on any sheer white dresses at this point and if I ever venture there, I guess I can just as well go the whole way, start from scratch and make myself one of those more period-correct stays Sabine discovered. It's what I'm going to make my sister - I'm sure she'll be tickled to have stays based on a Dutch example. ;-)

As you can see on the above photo, there is a piece of cord sewn in next to the lacing eyelets. That's what I'm tying my lace to. I'm not sure anymore where I got the idea from, but it's something I came across in my research into spiral lacing.

The laces, as well as that piece of cord, are made by me, too.

Because I'm still working on the stays, I entered the laces into the Black and White challenge (a bit late, but it makes me feel good to have something up). Because I made them myself, too, it's more or less a separate item, and they're white. Ish. You know, the colour linen is when it's basically white.

What the item is: Stay laces

The Challenge: Black & White
Fabric: none, see notions
Pattern: none - I was inspired by this blog post by Stephanie Ann; but because my cord is thicker, I cast only two stitches - it's basically like a lucet cord made on knitting needles.
Year: early 19th century
Notions: linen cord (of a baker's twine variety)
How historically accurate is it? I don't have any documentation for my time period, but I think it's at least 100% plausible
Hours to finish: I lost count - it wasn't much, but it was an on and off project
First worn: Only for tryouts so far
Total cost: I don't remember anymore, but I think the cord was about 30 CZK, not more.

I'm still contemplating whether I will go the same route with tying the shoulder straps or if I will pretty it up and use ribbons. :D But I don't have any period accurate(ish) ribbons and I'm cheap, so I guess knitted cords it is...

It's a fun technique. I like that I'm able to do it on knitting needles, because it's faster and tighter than when I try it lucet-like (more specifically, I've tried it as spool knitting). I could make myself shoe laces as well.

I'm looking at you, Oona

I've suddenly realised that I'm somewhat bolder - or perhaps more "so what?" - about pattern combinations than I used to be. It's subtle, subtler than Oona's technicolour, but it's there. I would not have put this simple everyday outfit together like this - maybe not even a year ago. Or if I would have, I would have felt self-conscious walking the street like that, wondering if it looks weird. I only started feeling self-conscious today upon realising that I wasn't, that I liked what I was wearing.

I suppose this is how personal style happens. When you stop putting your clothes on just like that. And then you stop worrying if your clothes match and if the skirt hits a good spot on your legs and if the sweater does not make you look fat (actually, I don't think I've personally ever worried about that last item, but you get the picture). And you put your clothes on just like that.

I don't wear this every day - I still have trousers that don't fit me very well, and things. But this is what I can throw together when I feel like it and none of it is in the wash etc. etc. And looking at that photo - a quick snap with the camera sitting wobblingly on a chair, because the tripod is at home, and still the photo looks good - I think here I've managed the art of harmonising with my environment, too. :D

I wear that Felicitas Queisser scarf All. The. Time. I like having this as my signature style, for obvious reasons. I really need more fichu-en-marmote-able scarves. Ones I could wear with my bolder colours, too.

 * * *

I'm actually not looking at Oona. I'm looking into the garden. Some spring colours are very bold.

I wish this were me in 1797

This 1797 fashion plate from costume Parisien. I'm finding that 1797 might be the year for me. It's got most of the features I like, and a silhouette I like - still the transitional style I'm drawn to, but already streamlined into the more flattering classical style we all probably love most about the Directoire/Empire fashions; and headwear I like.

Fichu en marmote! Now, this really has to be me.

I love the combination of colours here, bold yet pastel, and that cute white fur trim on the spencer, and the simplicity of the whole thing, in all its boldness. There's a very timeless quality to it - leave out the plume (and the whip, obviously) and wear it with a modern white shirt, and you could wear this today. And get photographed by The Sartorialist while wearing it.
Though I'm wondering why she has that band underneath her chin... is there something going on underneath the fichu that we do not know about?

I guess this "feature" is all you're getting from me, clothing-wise, for a while yet. I'm working on things. Very slowly, because there are many things not clothing related that I have to work on, too, and when I finish those, I'm often too tired to take up the needle. But I am working on it. I finished all the eyelets on my Regency stays, and yesterday I knitted away on my laces, only to find out it was still not long enough...

Although, wait a minute, I have some new acquisitions I could show you. And some oldish ones, too...

Look what I've got! - The tin and bulk of fabric edition

For some reason, I don't remember anymore what, I started scouring Aukro, the Czech version of eBay. And I splurged on some things.

The first thing was this tin box:

I'm always short on pretty storage options, and this fits so nicely with other things in our house:

(The colours are more true on this photo.)

It houses my fusible interfacings now. Well, those I've managed to unearth so far. That is enough of an explanation of why it houses them.


Another thing was - wait for it - 15 meters of lining fabric.

 
Well, I did not bother measuring it and trust the seller; it's quite the bulk. For about 26 CZK per metre. That's like a dollar per metre, I believe. Nice, sturdy, reversible lining fabric, most probably acetate (burn test proved it not to be a hideous melting kind of artificial, but the ash is dark, so it's probably not rayon) - certainly much better than those various odds and ends of dubious fibre content that made up my fabric stash up till now. You see, I was very short on lining fabrics as well. Very short. I think this purchase can be excused in my attempts to use up stash and not add to it, because I have fabrics in my stash that I could not use without lining. Like that burgundy red for a jacket.

The warp here is black or very dark blue and the weft is a gorgeous bronze colour, resulting in a changeable quality on both sides. Admittedly, the bronze colour is not exactly my colour, or my family's colour. But the other side has just that little tinge of gold that works for me (think overcast grey, grey skies with golden rays pouring through - those are my best colours) and will do very nicely.
And I have something else in mind for two special fabric remnants... but that's a vague idea that has to wait.

It's pretty enough to be tempting as a fashion fabric, but it does not behave properly for that (the frou-frou is somewhat wind-breaker-y, if you know what I mean). I know better now, and am looking forward to pretty insides.


Other news: Now that Flickr has made their free space much larger than it used to be, I'm gradually putting up those German pattern magazines - the first one is here. Rajče, the Czech site I'm using, is a fine one, but it resizes the pictures, and I don't want that.

This would have been me

Auguste Toulmouche: Dans la bibliothèque, 1872

I ran into this picture on Pinterest (ha!), but it's taken from Wiki. I would have totally worn that dress (plus some short sleeves, that is), and I would have totally read like that, and stood like that, because I already have - see my profile picture. As a Whovian, I imagine this would be the time-traveller me. I can guarantee you I'd go straight for the bookcase.

And now I want a bookcase like that, too. And to wear that hairstyle.

I love those books haphazardly left open on the chair. I do that, too, even though it's bad for the books. I just never have enough bookmarks.

A kerchief and a handkerchief

I found this in a thrift shop:

It's a wonderfully 18th-century-like print. (Although it may have been meant to be Oriental.) I have no idea what the fibre content is - I'd have to pull a thread and play with fire, which I don't feel like doing. It's rather loosely woven and very soft, quite reminiscent of my Indian shawl which is, I believe, rayon. But this isn't an Indian kerchief, because there's this:

I googled "Felicitas Queisser" and did not get much. Most of my results were German. Some Polish. Some Etsy. Some e-Bay. Some claimed vintage. Some claimed new. Some claimed "made in Italy", which did not line up with the fact so many of the results were German. One German site I ran into was an account of 50s fashions and said Felicity Queisser clothing was particularly popular in Germany.
So that's about it. I own a mystery Felicity Queisser kerchief / scarf that could and could not be vintage. It would also make a fabulous printed fichu (there's one here), if only I had a frock that would more or less match it in colour. :D
(Well, of course I'm going to wear it in normal life, just like I wear my Indian shawl. And its colours are so perfectly me.)


This is what the handkerchief I made looks like after a wash:

And last but not least:

Waitaminute, I didn't mean that. But Kuusi and Viisi were too cute to pass up when I had the camera...

The more I listen to this album, the more I love it. Or, rather, the songs on it - Privateering is a very song album.
Also, the colours are giving me ideas. As if I needed them!

The buttons my grandfather made

My grandfather is a dental technician. Don't freak out just yet; it means he had always had easy access to resins.
That means he could make these:

Resin and ink shank buttons he made for my mom years and years ago. I don't understand the details of working with resin, but it basically sounds like something very easy (if you know how to work with resin) with very impressive results.

They were originally not attached to this bright blue jacket. The buttons that came with it looked like this:

It looked worse in real life than it does on the photo. This very bright, very blue jacket was fitted with greenish-greyish blue buttons; a very wrong colour that made it look shabby, while it is actually so bright and shiny and cool.

I pronounce my grandfather's buttons a big improvement.

(Bright and shiny and cool against a very shabby backdrop.)

I've always wanted to take one of these

These.

Yesterday, I found myself in Prague again (that's a good beginning). More importantly, I found a free Metro newspaper in the metro, with one of those elusive (so far, to me) fabric coupons for a certain fabric shop.

So I thought, if I have enough time let's go and see if I can find something that I actually need (that's the important part) and get it with a discount.

So I went, in the end; and could not find anything I needed. I wanted nice white lightweight cotton for the 1848 skirt. No luck there; I only found brown lightweight cotton, which was very nice, but not what I needed. I wanted cotton shirting, with the idea of maybe making my father a shirt for Christmas. No luck there at all.

So I thought, I don't have enough lining in my stash, let's take a look at the linings. While searching for linings (the shop was rather crowded, probably because more people have found their coupons in the Metro newspaper), I found a remnants rack with satins and the like; mostly the evil polyester stuff. I went through them, just in case. I noticed a burgundy red that could go as a lining with a fabric in my stash...

I touched it, and fell in love. I looked at the label. It was 100% silk.

Not very surprisingly, it went home with me.

Now, the question is, do I really turn it into a lining for that fabric? I'm not quite sure there's enough of the silk. And: It's not so apparent in the photo, but in real life, the colours are not quite the same. The fabric in my stash is a little bit more yellowish than the silk. And it's a mystery fabric (I got it from my friend's mother) and putting a luxurious silk lining into it feels somewhat incongruous with it; I haven't put it through the burn test yet, but my bet is it's not natural fibre.

I want to make a very classic blazer out of it; something like this:

(That's from Mrs Style Book 2006/11)

Silk lining would go well with that, admittedly.

But holding the silk fabric, I also became convinced that it had to become a gift for my mom. I had promised her a blouse... something like this, though worn sepearately:

(The same book. I suspect it's actually a pattern for a stretchy fabric, though.)

But I'm not quite sure if it's my mom's colour, either. The problem with gifts is, you can't check without telling them... I could, alternatelly, turn it into a camisole for her (she deserves a silk camisole; I already have one; it's featured among my "Remake the RTW" plans, though, and maybe I could squeeze two out of the fabric anyway), but then, isn't this fabric too beautiful to be restricted to underwear?

Oh, the troubles a lucky seamstress goes through! If I become convinced enough it's mom's colour, I'll go with the blouse. I promised, and it looks like the sort of style this fabric would shine as. Now, aren't I glad I found a shop that carries silk thread? Oh yes, I am.

Off to read about stylistics. That's a linguistic term, not a fashion one.

The beautiful and the useful

I've been a bad blogger recently, for a multitude of little reasons I will not bore you with. Suffice to say one of them was having a lengthy, annoying flu that took away much of my mojo for anything but watching sci-fi TV series. (Hello, Doctor Who! Hello, fellow Whovians!) Which threw me more into a fangirl mode than a blogging mode, obviously.


Anyway, to get back into blogging mode, I'll show you two little things that are both beautiful and useful; this inspired by a quote by William Morris Jodi posted some time ago.

"Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful."

I must say I would not let some of William Morris' own designs into my house (way too busy and dark), but his principle is very helpful. Even though I still struggle with living up to it.

On the top is a flour scoop. We've had this thing all my life; it disappeared for some time, I think, but was unearthed again and is in wide use. It is mostly useful: larger than a spoon, but about as narrow, perfect for scooping flour into your measures (ordinary cups in this house) or the container you use when you weigh it. So yes, I know this to be very useful. But I also believe there is some practical beauty about it; it's so balanced.

On the other hand, there is this China spoon I got on a bazaar because it was beautiful. (You know I love blue & white, don't you?) I thought it could be useful as well, though in the end it sat in the back of the drawer, not being useful and being only a little bit beautiful because it could not be seen.

Until I got an idea, and measured how much water it took, and found out it was 25 ml, a highly useful number.

It's still sitting in the back of the drawer, because there is not much "display" space in this house, but I know it to be not only beautiful, but also very useful. (Today, I used it to scoop soda.)

Some time ago, I took photos of things I like around the house that are mostly useful, but also beautiful. Like dishes. I may show you more of these one day, but I will not promise anything, because my blogging is highly random. But if, after reading this post, you will look at the everyday things in your life with new eyes and see the beauty in a tool or dish, I'll be happy to hear about it.

My almost favourite summer dress

This outfit's nothing special, mostly utilitarian (that sounds funny). Other than showing my new hat in action with the matching tote... The hat does not look so particularly good with the bun in some of my photos. Nor do the colours match. That's the utilitarian part. Monday was the hottest day since recording started in Czechia. (I kind of ruined my feet. And I woke up with a splitting headache the next day. Half a Paralen and about 3 liters of liquids later, I feel better, though.)

This dress is one of my few green pieces of clothing. I LOVE this *exact* shade of green. I love it on this dress. It's such a subversive pop of colour. ("Look, what a bright colour!" - "But it's only green!" - Um, does that make any sense at all?)

I also love the cut of it. Almost; I think a slightly fuller skirt (at the bottom) might be better. But: surplice bodice + tulip sleeves? And the yoke with the gathers in the back? Yum.

I love the fabric. It's a loose weave cotton with a slight crease; light and airy for summer, yet crisp enough for the style.

I do not love the unwashable dark spots on the skirt (small, so not seen on the photos, but noticable enough in real life).

I do not love the fit on me. It's too tight in the bust, which leads to two unfortunate results: a) the neckline is wobbly, b) the fit is uneven: it sits higher in the front than in the back.

Therein lie my problems. I'd love to recreate the dress, with a better fit. But I want to recreate it in the exact. same. fabric. The exact. same. colour. And where am I going to get that? I have no idea where the dress came from or how old it is. Fairly old. (The style is something like 70s meets 40s, but the notions used - plastic zipper of the tiny kind and fusible interfacing - probably place it in later times than 40s; who knows, maybe it's just early 90s.) It seems to be homesewn; but it was not sewn in this household.

I rather like the way it is empire-line in the front and sits on my waist in the back. But I do not like the way the skirt hangs in the back. The way the skirt hem is uneven on me.

Oh, and if I ever make it, I want it to be better finished inside. The interfaced waistband is not lined/underlined, and the interfacing is pretty worn-out. Eugh.

So that's it. One of those - not really RTW, but almost - pieces I want to recreate and replace (see the new blog button on the right). But I do not know how to do that and fulfill my wishes for it. This piece cannot simply be recreated for function; I also want it to be recreated for style. And vice versa. I want those two to be in harmony: the dress as it is comes near, but unfortunately not quite on me.

Little (and greater) joys of life

When was the last time I sang along with some music I was listening to?

Until yesterday, I wouldn't be able to say.

On Friday, I sang along with this album (available for free download - click on the cover). I found it thanks to Anna of Pleasant View Schoolhouse (I owe a lot to her already...). I downloaded it back when she posted about it, and then forgot all about it, and rediscovered it in February this year and fell in love.

Still in love.

* ~ * ~ *

Another rediscovery: this greyish purple yarn is ooold. When I decided to rewind the falling apart original skein into more managable ball(s), I realised just how much I loved this colour.

Together with green and grey, too. Not this particular grey yarn, but maybe some other.

* ~ * ~ *

I'm slowly, gradually reorganising things in the household, to be easier and prettier. The above jar is part of that. This is another:

The nail scissors and related stuff used to be in an ugly old and too small paper box; it was secretly driving me crazy, because it was messy and you could not see properly what was inside.

Mom gave me two of these bowls yesterday - she had no use for them and I thought they could work for my reorganising.

This one certainly did.

* ~ * ~ *

I totally forgot to post about these two things that make me very happy.

I won a print by Leaping Gazelle Studios in Kellie's Ginormous giveaway a while back. I chose this fern leaf, and got these poppies I admired on top of that:

Our kitchen is starting to become poppy-infested - we're now working on new curtains, the same background colour but with poppies and white flowers on it. :-) I love poppies, and the colours of red and orange and yellow are perfect for our small, shady kitchen.

Thank you so much, Kellie and Lauren!

* ~ * ~ *

Other things I got: teapot and teacup and saucer set from my aunt. Rosehips jam and darjeeling tea from mom. Oh yes, and the bowl.

* ~ * ~ *

Violets. Pity I can't share the smell as well. They've gone wild in our garden.

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This is old news, but that does not make it any less great:

"Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here; he has risen!"

(Art by Barbora Veselá)