There's something different about the atmosphere in the house on a Sunday with no engagements.
A quietness.
And on a wet day, a willingness to hunker down and enjoy the domestic.
A little bit of Grand Prix watching and new sock wearing (well, one new sock anyway). I think I'll go and cast on the other one. Click clack, enjoy the rest of your weekend.
It looked like rain this afternoon, so I thought I might go and salvage a precious flower from the garden, before it was spoiled.
Having a cutting garden is a long standing fantasy of mine. To head out through the dewy grass, load up my trug, and enjoy the blooms inside the house. I even got as far as buying the book many years ago. But I find I have a guilt complex when it comes to actually harvesting the flowers. The empty spots in the borders look at me accusingly and I feel I have wasted the life of the plant for a brief moment of satisfaction.
Strange emotion, guilt. I feel the same way about ditching a product I bought but didn't like. Take this surface cleaner for example (matches my flower, dontcha think?).
I was seduced into buying it by the pretty, yet understated packaging and the unusual colour. But I'm sorry to say, that the smell reminds me of vomit. So why am I still feeling that I have to use it up? Guilt over waste has a lot to answer for.
Bank holiday weekend comes with the gift of an extra day's respite from ordinary life, so I didn't expect to feel frustrated today, but I am. 
See these stitches in all their gorgeousness. Part of my attempt at a shrug which is finished, but doesn't fit. Before casting on, I knew the amount of yarn I had was a bit on the skimpy side, but I figured if I knitted faster, it would be enough. Stretch the space-time continuum or something
. It looks lovely, just not on me. Actually, probably not on anyone who doesn't resemble a weeble.
The thing that distresses me the most is that the time invested in making it has been wasted. Spare hours are the most precious commodity as I try to shoehorn everything I want to do and need to accomplish into the allotted 24/7.
Megan was right the other day, what I need is a wife.
Monica asked, so I thought I'd show you.
I have 3 windows in my kitchen. Lots of sill. Lots of junk. Lots of spiky plants - I'm sure that's not good feng shui.
Window 1. The metal gizmo is the blade from my stick blender. And the figure is hubby's wizard. I don't really like him - he stares at my kitchen slovenliness in a horrified way and it really ticks me off.
Although, seeing this junk on Windowsill number 2, I appreciate his expression may have a point. Yeast from my last baking session, leaf gelatine used last week, garlic pot (with broken top) and aquilegia seeds in an envelope harvested last Autumn. Note to self - put tidy kitchen on the 'to-do' list.
Bananas live here semi-permanently, because I heard you mustn't keep them with other fruit as the ethylene they release makes other fruit go off faster. Spiky plant number 3.
This is the third windowsill that, in theory, holds the frequently changing, tastefully grouped, seasonal display. Ha ha ha ha ha (barely concealed hysteria). I suppose conkers ARE seasonal (just not this season). And the recent Johnny-art is at least of the moment.
Sometimes, taking photos of things really makes you see them. Time to haul myself away from the screen, head for the aforementioned kitchen and do some clearing up. In my next life, I'd like to come back as an obsessively tidy person. Preferably with a cleaning lady.
The last time I owned a pair of Converse I was fifteen. They were red. It was a very good time. Who doesn't occasionally fall in love with red footwear? Right Julie? Right Beki? Right Zoe?
But lust is another matter entirely. There should be a specific term for shoe lust. Because when I first saw this Camilla Engman version, that's what I had. Sadly, it seemed unless I was prepared to have them shipped trans-Atlantic, they were not to be. And then, on Tuesday, they appeared. Issuing their siren song from the window of Schuh. Did you notice that little UK purchase friendly link? I'm nice sometimes.
Want another one? Try this. It shouldn't really surprise me that there is an entire site devoted to teaching you alternative methods to lace your shoes. But somehow it does. 'Scuse me, off to test out some variations for optimum comfort.
Alice was talking this morning, and I quote...
I have just read a diatribe about
The Evils of Blogging
which claims that it sucks the creative lifeblood
out of the poor saps
who get drawn into The Evil Blogosphere.
I'm confused by this, because as I told Alice, I've never been part of something with MORE creative lifeblood in evidence. But do you know what? I hate being told I shouldn't do something. It brings the beast out in me. So here, the contents of my handbag, because I'm sure that's exactly the sort of thing that would really wind up the author of the original diatribe.
All the usual detritus represented.
From the serious: wallet, phone, chequebook, stamps.
Via the more creative: camera, Moleskine, Moo cards, pens and pencils.
The personal: tampons, tissues (Christmassy and normal), nail file, rescue remedy.
The unusual: finger bandage (there's another tale), zinc oxide tape and package to post.
And the escapees: all the flotsom which migrates to the bottom.
Housed in my Orla bag. Words cannot express how happy this bag makes me. I spent a whole year obsessing about the style and pattern before I took the plunge. Sometimes the process is half the fun. And so it is with blogging. Even though I've found little time to be creative of late, I find myself wanting to post. And if it's about the contents of my handbag, so be it. I'm in good company.
A little goodness plopped through my letterbox this week, in the form of some wonderful postcards from Syko. 
There is something special and unique about the things Kajsa makes - I think it's the sense of joyfulness. Even her raindrops are multicoloured. They have been brightening my desk this week and I will have to be careful, or there they will stay for good.
Hoarding stationary is one of my little weirdnesses. When I was 9, I went off to boarding school and part of our Sunday afternoons were set aside for writing letters home. I became the proud owner of a red leather writing case and a fistful of airletters, but these were soon abandoned in favour of a newly discovered currency - stationery.
There was an active black market in swapped fancy notepaper and envelopes. It wasn't so much using the sets as acquiring them and knowing the relative trading value of each design. Anything with a scratch and sniff sticker, pretty much guaranteed you the trade of your choice. Although I do remember getting landed with a pickled onion one once, which was eye wateringly realistic and proved to be impossible to offload.
The writing case (probably still with a vague vinegary scent) vanished a long while ago now. But I'm not sure the excitement of great stationery, or the difficulty in parting with it, has ever totally left me.
Thanks so much for all the good wishes on my new adventure - yes, I am really truly working in a bookshop. And I was amazed (though not surprised) about how many of us crafty blogger types have worked in bookshops, managed bookshops or view a job in a bookshop as being paid for pleasure.
Much as I would love to regale you with tales of trivia from my day, that's more than enough work chat here. Not least because my new boss also happens to be one of my long established blog readers. Bit weird that!
The double whammy of Easter and gainful employment has meant there hasn't been too much creativity happening this week. The best I can come up with is some chocolate macaroons (from Nigella Express).
Now I grant you, they're not Laduree, but they were very acceptable.
Fuelled by chocolate, Hubby fixed the portion of fence that had blown down in the howling winds the other week. 
Unlike our other fenceposts, this one has a flat top, which makes the perfect resting place for the little blackbird sculpture I've had tucked away for ages. He makes me smile.
Time for a new venture - a job. It's been almost 8 years since I last went out to work, but tomorrow that's what I'll be doing. Don't think I've been keeping it under wraps from you. The whole thing has happened pretty fast. On reflection, this is probably a good thing as my menfolk have already been calculating how my absence from home for a few hours a week is likely to affect me doing their bidding. I've had to do a fair bit of reassurance that normal mothering service will continue.
Now would be a good time to fill me with stories about how marvellous re-entry to the workforce is. Although I am a hundred percent convinced that I have found a top landing zone.
Do you think splitting infinitives is grounds for dismissal from a bookshop? Perhaps I ought to re-think my post title.
As the wind howled on Saturday night I lay in bed hoping that no trees would fall on the train line and ruin my escape to London. I had plans to meet up with Alice and (soon to be blogging) Kristina and I think if I hadn't made it, I would have wept.
These sanity days are hugely important to me - just the chance to have some precious time as an adult without responsibilities.
So, we mooched round the National Portrait Gallery, and had lunch at Ottolenghi (very highly recommended) and visited Loop. One of those everything and nothing days.
And today I am back at home, but I've remembered who I am and I am happy.
And I have some yarn for a new project...
A fortifying breakfast seemed to be in order, having almost fainted in the shower this morning.
I gave blood yesterday for the first time since having the boys. It's something I used to do regularly, but what with pregnancy, birth and babies, I've only just got myself together to go back. I've never had any problems donating in the past, so this morning was a bit of a shock. I suppose you have to expect some changes with (cough) age (cough). Oh, and the fact that my children are bleeding me dry every waking minute of the day. But let's not go there.
Johnny's favourite song on the radio at the moment is Bleeding Love by Leona Lewis. But I don't think he has grasped the subtle art of metaphor.
Johnny: Mama, if she keep keep bleeding, she gonna be dead!
The saddest thing about Christmas is that it takes weeks of planning and hours of preparation work and then poof - it's over before you know it, albeit in a blaze of glory.
Anybody else feeling the post 25th slump? The space between the end of Christmas and the beginning of the New Year is always a slightly strange one for me. Time to pause, regroup and make plans for the future. You know how we like our plans round here!
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.
Why am I home with the bath bed boy routine and leftovers while Hubby is eating at Gordon Ramsay at Claridges tonight?
Oh the photo is theirs. When do you think my kitchen last produced something like that? Holey moley, sometimes I really miss corporate life.
Well, bits of it anyway. But I know you get all that family work life balance stuff. It's hard to put it into words, but Sooz has found the perfect analogy. And done it brilliantly. Go and read her post.
Recently, Joanna tagged me to do a seven things meme. I was trying to come up with something random, when I came across this at Pea Soup. It struck me as totally random, so I'm doing it instead. Rule bender? Me? Never.
What kind of soap is in your bathtub right now?
None! Before you faint with shock, we have a separate shower (which I prefer) so baths are strictly of the bubble variety only.
Do you have any watermelon in your refrigerator?
Er, no. And I didn't even have to check!
What would you change about your living room?
I'd have a wood burning stove in it.
Are the dishes in your dishwasher clean or dirty?
Dirty. It's not full.
What is in your fridge?
Gherkins, olives, 3 different jams, 3 different mustards, wine, milk, butter, wasabi, capers, pickled onions, ketchup, mayonnaise, miso paste, yoghurt, one sad lone jelly, innocent smoothies, wine, beers, bacon, broccoli, celery, carrots, beans, spring onion, red peppers, salad, cheese, anchovies, secret chocolate bar for emergencies, did I mention wine?
White or wheat bread?
Both, probably going mouldy. We waste a LOT of bread, because I only really like it very fresh.
What is on top of your refrigerator?
It's built in. Dirt probably.
What color or design is on your shower curtain?
Glass door, accessorized by unattractive limescale spots.
How many plants are in your home?
About a dozen. One is from a cutting given to me by a friend for my 21st birthday. Another is a cactus I inherited when another friend moved to Washington. He lives in Edinburgh now. I dread him returning to ask for it back, because I'm rather fond of it.
Is your bed made right now?
No - hubby's in it.
Comet or Soft Scrub?
Asteroid? Facial Wash? Que?
Is your closet organized?
Not too bad.
Can you describe your flashlight?
Black, lights up when you press the switch.
Do you drink out of glass or plastic most of the time at home?
Glass.
Do you have iced tea made in a pitcher right now?
No.
If you have a garage, is it cluttered?
Not so much cluttered as full, very full. No chance of getting a car in there!
Curtains or blinds?
Blinds in our bathroom since the lady who lives opposite phoned me up at 7am to tell me that the Builders next door had just watched me take a shower. Frosted schmosted.
Curtains elsewhere (but we only draw them upstairs really).
How many pillows do you sleep with?
One. It's a memory foam weird one. I like it.
Do you sleep with any lights on at night?
Nightlights in the boys' bedrooms.
How often do you vacuum?
Can I plead the 5th? When I can't ignore it any more. Or whenever hubby wears his stupid chenille socks which shed all over the carpet.
Standard toothbrush or electric?
Standard. My teeth just destroy toothbrushes, so I'm forever changing mine. Must be small head or I bang my gums and give myself ulcers.
What color is your toothbrush?
Pink and white. With orange rubber tongue cleaning ridges on the back. What a gimmick.
Do you have a welcome mat on your front porch?
We have a doormat, but it doesn't say welcome. In fact, some animal has been nibbling the corner of it, so I think it currently says 'unkempt'.
What is in your oven right now?
One of those mats which you can take out to rinse off the burnt on gunk. Ha ha ha - yeah, right.
Is there anything under your bed?
No (it's very close to the floor. On purpose, because otherwise I'd stiff all manner of rubbish under there. Glad you didn't ask about the spare bed.
Chore you hate doing the most?
Cleaning the oven. I discovered there are companies who will come to your house and do it for you though. How cool is that?
Do you have a separate room that you use as an office?
Yes - office come craft space. My lair. Mwa ha ha ha.
How many mirrors are in your home?
Nine. Now ask me if I glanced in even one before I left the house this morning.
What color are your walls?
Cream mainly. One green downstairs loo and one pale yellow living room which I'd prefer to be cream.
Do you keep any kind of protection weapons in your home?
My children?
What does your home smell like right now?
Home.
Favorite candle scent?
Very fussy about scented candles. Currently it's a winter spice number.
What kind of pickles (if any) are in your refrigerator right now?
I've already given you a far too detailed run down of the contents of my fridge. Weren't you reading properly before? Or is this just to catch me out?
Ever been on your roof?
No. What the hell would I want to do that for?
Do you own a stereo?
Yes.
How many TVs do you have?
One.
How many house phones?
Are you going to burgle me?
Do you have a housekeeper?
No. Well, me I suppose. But I'm not sure they took up my references before they employed me.
Is there a smoke detector in your home?
Several. Even one in the loft since our neighbours house burned down. Dodgy downlighters. And ours was built by the same developer. And has the same lights. Oh bugger, there goes another sleepless night.
In case of fire, what are the items in your house which you’d grab if you only could make one quick trip?
When we did have to evacuate (see above) we just grabbed a boy each. And then had soul searching discussions later about why Hubby had chosen the one he did first. So glad I was dashing up the stairs at the time shrieking 'get the kids' instead of having to choose which one.
Tagging? When you read these things, do you sit there reading and thinking 'Please don't tag me' or feel sad when you didn't get tagged? I just steal them shamelessly if I want to do one. Suggest you do the same.
Being a woman of mystery isn't my usual style. Time to come clean about my much anticipated day yesterday. I went to London to meet up with Alice of The Magpie Files. Which would have been enough excitement in its own right (especially as she had promised a visit to the Champagne Bar in the new St Pancras - the woman has style). But she had other plans up her sleeve too. After a quick stop at Liberty, we jumped on a bus and arrived here:
The slowness of the post across the pond forced Sarah to spill the beans about there being a little something headed my way, so I've been rushing to the door every time the postman's van appears. And here it is, proof that a watched pot sometimes boils, a perfectly gorgeous apron.
Sarah wouldn't have known that the colours of the flowers pick up the bluey tones of my kitchen cabinets and the tan, the floor tiles. Uncanny though isn't it? She has much better photos than mine - in fact, I had admired the apron when she posted about it, never thinking it was destined for my kitchen. Hell, it even matches my dishes, so I just had to show you.
Thank you friend. The other great thing about it is the enormous pocket, which is just what I need to stuff all my tissues in. I have the most stinking cold and I am cross about it, because I need to have lunch tomorrow. And taste cupcakes. And possibly drink Champagne. And not infect people. Damn. I'm being all secretive, but I am so looking forward to spilling the beans after the event. 
Echinacea is my friend. And positive mental attitude. I do not have a cold, my nose is not streaming, I am healthy and not at all infectious.
I turned thirty six yesterday. Do you want to know the best thing about it? All year long, I've been thinking I was thirty six already. What a gift - an extra 365 days!
It made me think of my student days - I did a variety of part time jobs (supermarket shelf stacker, sweetie barrow salesgirl, contract dry stone walling, child minding, barmaid...) and when I got paid, I would put a £5 note in a random pocket of my clothing. I cannot tell you the you how much joy I generated for myself by coming across one unexpectedly during a lean week. Unexpected pleasures - they're the best.
Things are beginning to feel decidedly end-of-year-ish round here. There's something about the last few days of November that sends me into a flurry of nesting. Suppose it is probably linked to the short days, hunkering down for winter and trying to impose order on the house before the relative anarchy* of the Festive Season.
*I mean anarchy, relative to real life, not anarchy of my relatives, who are, on the whole, fairly well behaved.**
So my cupboards have been treated to some new hooks
to hang our winter woollies on.
Our finances have been squared away (yes, those are credit card slips - guess we hadn't reconciled them in a while).
And I have the most gorgeous calendar (from Sarah) ready to track the passing of the new year.
We're all set, let the festivities commence.
Today seems an appropriate day for a Euro-centric post (given that our American chums will be far too busy stuffing their faces with turkey and vegging out to read blogs - Happy Thanksgiving though guys).
Now, don't hate me, I know, we're crafting like mad and pledging ourselves to Handmade, but sometimes, shopping just has to be done. I used to try to spend my gift cash at my local independent toy shop. But I obviously didn't spend enough, because it closed down recently. So sad.
In looking further afield, I discovered a little online gem for the under 5 crowd, called Izziwizzi Kids. This contraption had Johnny's name written all over it. Monkey scales (if anyone comes up with a tutorial for handcrafting those, I'll eat my shorts).
The customer experience was great and best of all, they've let me give all my chums £5 off. So if you want a money off code, let me know your e-mail. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone you are spending money on illicit manufactured pleasures.
Happy shopping (sorry, the 's' word again).
Don't worry, I've got some new shower gel. Everything's going to be just fine.
And just to clear one thing up, I have no intention of stopping blogging. I feel nothing but gratitude for the tremendous friendship and warmth that this community of ours provides. I love the sense that you are never alone. Whatever you're feeling or going through, there are souls out there who've been there. And they share their thoughts, experience and wisdom freely.
And besides, who else am I going to show my new red boots to at 10 o'clock on a Sunday night? 
Bugger the plan, let's go shopping!
When we first got married, a wise Professor of Hubby's told us that we should always have a 5 year plan. A written record of where we would like to be 5 years from now. Given this advice came from someone who managed to achieve a Knighthood during the course of his life, we took heed. And it became an annual tradition for many years - we would sit together and over several glasses of wine produce our route map.
Life plans.
And the funny thing is, when I look at the plans from 1994, much of what we wrote has come to pass. Yes, there are elements that have we have dropped (Third child? What was I thinking...), but we managed to get ourselves back to the UK, in a home of our own. Hubby did his MBA, I found a job I enjoyed, we started a family - so many things clicked into place.
But as we contemplate life from here on, the plans become harder to make. I knew right back then, that when we had children, I would want to be at home with them. But I'm filling in applications for Johnny's school place next September and I find myself acutely aware that a chapter in our lives is drawing to a close. A new page will be opening and I haven't the foggiest idea what to write on it.
Looking back, I see that my part in our life plan has often been in a supporting role. And I have loved doing that - I don't begrudge it in the slightest and I would do it again in an instant. The only thing is, after thirteen years of fitting myself around other elements of life, I am finding it almost impossible to know what what it is that I really want to do. Sometimes too much choice is a difficult thing.
And I worry, that blogging is somehow deferring the need to make some plans. There's a Japanese phrase 'giri-giri' which is hard to translate, but means something along the lines of 'working out of a sense of obligation, rather than to achieve anything in particular'. Sort of like Busy Work. And I wonder if my blog is giving me a false sense of achieving something with my life, when I'm not really.
Finally, a few moments for some Alexandra Palace show-and-tell. Thanks for the Johnny well-wishes. It took 4 doctors, 2 nurses and 2 x-rays to confirm his arm isn't broken. And he's using it again. Phew. Just don't ask how many hours I've spent in medical establishments this week...
At least I had my mind pictures from Sunday to sustain me (if no real ones - photography was seriously frowned upon at many many exhibits, so I abandoned my camera and tried to commit everything to memory instead). My favourite new find of the show was Caren Garfen.
Her work was full of domestic motifs (toilets, irons, hoovers), silk screened onto cotton and hand embroidered with the finest of fine threads. It was the quiet, self deprecating wit that caught my eye, and the sense of a shared joke. Pinny-humour if you like. But such exquisite workmanship.
I think well known to others, but not to me was Julie Arkell. I'm filled with enthusiasm for papier mache - must get to ripping strips soon.
Her work is described in her book as 'very English'. I'm not too sure exactly what the commentator meant by that, but I love the colour pallete (bright, but slightly muted), the use of found objects and the whimsical with an edge, which prevents the pieces slipping over into cute.
Not that cute isn't good - Rebecca Shreeve's Quirkles were unashamedly cute, brought off with panache and the most gorgeous soft fabrics.
More grown up appeal from Clyde Olliver, who stitches on slate. Fabulous.
And the shopping, oh yeah, because there was plenty of that going on. And some pretty scary shoppers to contend with - there's nothing like a stash-builder with their quarry in sight for getting the elbows out! Some temptations, I could resist - a pumpkin teacosy kit, sadly beyond my skills and a great selection of Mini Boden fabrics, which would have sat and sat before I decided what to do with them.
But there was still a lot of shopping going on. I found some gorgeous linen thread and linen pieces by fog linen work sold through Selvedge objects.
Sashiko thread, from Euro Japan Links. I love the matte finish of this for embroidery. 
Some yarn for a simple little hat project I want to try.
And a whole load of needle felting supplies. It's something I've been wanting to have a go at for ages, so when I saw a starter kit being demonstrated, I just had to have one. Believe me, I was all about lack of spending restraint that day! It's a good thing the cashpoint was out of action, or the damage to my bank account may have been severe.
And it wouldn't have been anywhere near as much fun without the redoubtable company of Caroline. In fact the only downer of the day was the absence of Monica who was stuck at home with her little barfers, chained to the washing machine. Why is it that time spent with blog-chums passes in the wink of an eye? It was only the tiredness of my feet which convinced me we had spent the entire day having fun. But we really did.
Rush rush rushing this week, trying to get ready for Saturday's Craft Fair.
Piles everywhere. Amy is showing little pieces of her home this month. So I thought I might join in.
Ghostie lollies - always my Autumn Fair runaway bestseller. And I can make them while I watch Jamie and Nigella on telly.
I'll feel less rushed next week. Hopefully.
Moo cards are so very handy. Mine saved me from having to scribble out my details when I ran into a woman's car in Waitrose this morning. Yipes. She was loading her shopping into the boot when I did it, but mercifully she was extraordinarily nice about it. Perhaps it helped that I was grovellingly apologetic. But I like to think the pretty Moo card softened the blow a little.
Hell, if I had had a roll of this cute tape handy, I could have offered instant repairs. So if you're planning on doing any dodgy driving, perhaps you should pop over to paper and string and pick up a roll or two for the glove compartment. Stay safe.
Tonight my back is aching - the body's way of rebelling against a couple of weeks that are containing a little more angst and activity than I would like.
I was going to write a self-indulgent little rant here, telling you how much I hate the churning feeling in my stomach when I feel out of control - lurching from one spot of fire-fighting to the next. But instead I did my weekend's grocery shopping on-line. Smashing.
May the force be with you.
Recently I had the rare pleasure of coming across a meme full of nosey questions that I REALLY REALLY want to put to other people. So much so, that I have taken it on, despite not being named and shamed, via Charlotte's Web. 
1. Do you promote your blog?
I am uncharacteristically shy about telling real-life people that I blog. To many non-bloggers I suspect it sounds ridiculously self-indulgent and a total waste of time. We, the enlightened, know differently of course, but I don't often feel like defending the benefits of blogging.
My husband, on the other hand, has an annoying habit of 'outing' me to people. My in-laws, his work colleagues, goodness only knows who else.
Other than that, my Flickr photos often link back to my blog, but I'm not part of any blog rings or suchlike.
2. How often do you check hits?
More often than I care to admit. I'm obsessed with knowing where people come to visit me from. Some of the google search criteria that lead to me are understandable (too many cobwebs in house), some are tenuous (bad bunny pics) and some are downright bizarre (alpaca cbc chem profile). In my imagination, there is some poor student of veterinary medicine still scratching his head over that one.
3. Do you stick to one topic?
Me me me me me me. Isn't that the core of any blog? No, but seriously, domesticity I guess. For me that's a bit of craft, a bit of cooking, and a slice of family life.
4. Who knows that you have a blog?
A few friends, my family, the folks at my local bookshop and in my book group and all of you of course. Sadly, no people wanting to do magazine spreads on my home, ask my advice on cooking or give me free review copies of craft books seem to have noticed yet.
5. How many blogs do you read?
Far far far too many. I'm trying to cut down, but I'm plagued with guilt about removing a blog from my bloglines subscription (currently standing at 283 feeds). I remember the first time I noticed that the number of subscribers to mine had gone down. I was mortified - what had I said? Was I offensive or just plain dull and untalented? Cue extreme paranoia. So now I fudge the issue by putting blogs I'm not loving quite so much into a 'sacrificed' folder which I try very hard not to read. I am also implementing a little rule of thumb which says that for each new blog I subscribe to an older subscription has to be sacrificed. It's hard - I'm not naturally ruthless.
6. Are you a fast reader?
Yes, thank goodness, given the 283 feed situation. So one of my pet peeves is the folks who have set their feeds up so I only get the first few lines of a post. I then have to click over to the blog to read the post. I hate this, it wastes time. Time I really need to read all my bloody feeds. So have a heart peeps and don't do it!
7. Do you customise your blog or do anything technical?
I can just about manage to crop a photo, make a button work or do a manual link. But I just use a standard template. I figure there are a lot of folks much better at this stuff than I am, so why not take advantage of their expertise! I have wondered about changing my template to something else though. Do you hate the dots? Be honest.
8. Do you blog anonymously?
No. Real name, photos of the kids, the lot. I'm really not worried about child snatchers. If they took Mark, they'd be on the doorstep within the hour begging me to take him back! But in all seriousness, I feel that there is no more danger from my blog than there is from some nutter watching my the boys in the playground. Perhaps if something negative happened to my photos, I'd feel differently, but for now, open it is.
9. To what extent do you censor yourself?
Hugely!! I try to follow the 'If you can't say anything nice...' principle. So consequently, there is plenty I don't say. I'm not sure crafty blogland is really the place to be controversial (although I am intrigued by the soap opera quality of the occasional spats I have followed elsewhere).
I do find though, that purposefully concealing something big from my blog leaves me feeling very uncomfortable. If the blog is not a fairly honest reflection of my life, it feels a bit of a sham. So you do get the 'ugly' sometimes, even if I only tell you to give you a laugh.
10. The best thing about blogging?
There are so many great things: finding like minded chums, always finding someone who can answer a little question I might have, inspiration, making me appreciate the small things more, the fact that I have a record of the last couple of years of my little family's life. But the best is the fact that I watch a lot less crap telly than I used to.
I am uncharacteristically keen to tag people for this. I really really want to know the answers to these questions. Whenever I have had the pleasure of meeting a fellow blogger in real life, these topics always seem to come up in conversation. So, Alicia, Manda, Lynn, Laura, Zoe, Angela, Beki, Simmy, Sally and any other blogger I have ever read (all 283 of you) - I am fascinated to know, so go on, indulge my curiosity.
Okay, it's high time for another 'airing your dirty linen in public' confession. I am not one of life's naturally immaculate people (I can hear my father snorting from here). Barely controlled chaos is more like it. Case in point - the shelves in my office stroke craft room.
There is some order to it, honest, but you might not guess it at first glance. As I look at them in the cold hard public light I ask myself many questions:
Why do I still have a copy of 'The Idiot's Guide to Baby Names' hanging about? Because believe me, that boat has well and truly sailed.
Couldn't I find more attractive storage boxes for my fabric paints than those ancient Pampers wipes cartons?
It's August - do I honestly need a Halloween lantern or my set of plastic Easter eggs to hand?
But in my own defence, I do know exactly where to lay my hands on the stuff on these shelves and they are one of the hardest working storage spaces in our house. I just wish I had the knack of turning functional into beautiful, oh and keeping it tidy.
Prone to exaggeration - who me? Well, possibly a touch. But it really hacks me off when my lovingly sewn book cover turns out to be too small for the ******* book.
And I used my precious jumbo ric rack too. Serves me right for thinking I was clever enough to sew without instructions. Yet another one for the 'crafts gone bad' hall of fame. I should know better than to approach the machine while suffering from PMT.
There's only one cure. Tea. With biscuits. Preferably chocolate.
Grudgingly I have to admit that all is not bad in the world. Humph.
Blogging at the weekend - it's just not popular is it? I always feel like a bit of a billy-no-mates here at my computer on a Saturday or Sunday. Like everyone else has exciting and fun weekend plans which render them far too busy to go near a monitor. And it's worse with this being a Bank Holiday Weekend and all, but hey, I have no shame and an A to Z to complete by the end of the month.
It's also been unusually quiet at home. Mark is spending the week with his Grandparents and Johnny has been really missing his big brother. It's just not as much fun playing cars on your own - nobody to fight with. Roll on Tuesday when they can return to the normal schedule - play, fight, yell and scream, get separated, find themselves magnetically attracted, play - and on and on it goes 'till bedtime. 
Just in case you are also wandering around looking for some weekend fun to be had, here are some blogs I read which begin with the letter R:
Raspberry
Red Felt Flower
Rock-Paper-Scissors
Ruby Crowned Kinglette
Red House
Red Shoes Blog
Red Fish Circle
Ragged Roses
Rose Vintage
Re:make
Robot.Jumping.Rope
Reddy Made
And a photo of my Rudbekias for Amy. She's after late summer excitement in her garden and these are fitting the bill in mine.
Phew - I'm beginning to run out of steam with this Encyclopedia of Me thing. Are there really 26 interesting things I can say about myself? I'm beginning to seriously doubt it!
But I am not good at stopping things I've started. Particularly when I've publicly stated I'm going to do something. When hubs and I first got married we lived in Japan. Close to his work in Yokohama. Unfortunately, my job was in Tokyo.
Now when I took the job I checked the map. It didn't seem too far. Little did I know I was signing up for a 2 hour each way commute via one of the most crowded means of transportation in the known universe. You know you see films of men wearing white gloves and shoving people onto trains. Well they're not just a tall tourist tale.
When Andy told his colleagues what I had planned, they were dubious. Westerners and Japanese alike. And unbeknown to me they had a little sweepstake for how long I would stick at my job. Estimates varied from 3 days to 6 weeks. Even hubby, who was well aware of my stubborn streak couldn't see it lasting longer than that. After all, I was only teaching English and I could do that on my own doorstep. But I lasted out the whole year of my contract.
That commute was hell on earth. Even now, there are CDs I can't listen to, because I played them on a continuous loop through my earphones in an effort to pretend I was somewhere else, away from the sweaty salarymen and chikan (perverts) who use the crowded trains as a cover for feeling up anything in a skirt.
Now, when I look back on it, I wonder what on earth motivated me to do it. But I'm kind of proud that I stuck it out. I expect I'll feel the same way about the Encyclopedia in time, but for now, I'm having a few days breather - we've got a glamping trip to go on...
