on the edge (no change there then)

This morning I dropped Oliver off at a holiday playscheme. For the whole day. I have never done such a thing before. Obviously I don't need him to be looked after by total strangers all day, since I don't work by day, but my thinking was this: he gets to spend time with other children doing organised activities/enjoying himself. He takes another little step away from me and my influence. IF he has a good time, then my day by myself is an added bonus. When I dropped him off, the staff were all young girlies who gave me no confidence they would be on top of things - whether the kids are playing nice/getting along or if any child is emotionally struggling. I have come away feeling so tense I could snap in half, and feeling like I could just sit and cry. I am so worried that Oliver will be unhappy. I guess this is the feeling that I would get if I had to leave him at the school gates. It doesn't feel good I can tell you.

Four partly finished (for various reasons) layouts from my Saturday crop:

They all needed bits and pieces that I either A) don't have yet (my lovely new Stampin' Up stamps on their way...) or B) had at home and not in my bulging bag of stash which I took with me.

Report back later on the success (?) of the playscheme......

the mouth of babes and all that

Feel I really must teach Oliver some public toilet etiquette. Although you might think 'what is she blithering on about - what public toilet etiquette?', believe me, there are things one should just not say out loud in the confines of one's cubicle. Personally I think that hearing Oliver loudly announce mid-piss 'phew, that's better, my balls were really hurting', is one of those cover your ears and sing la la la I'm not listening moments. I was busy assessing my escape route via the small window behind the toilet.

Art-wise, have completed the next pages of the Colour My World Art Journal CJ, these pages are the colours of autumn, and inspired by the legend of Icarus. Apparently 'all limits are self-imposed' is a quote of his. Hmmm. Think his limit was kind of imposed by the sun, but, hey-ho, who am I to question the might of the Greek Myth.

Have also done some scrapping, but as this may pop up on the Papermaze blog sometime, will hold off blogging it here.

During my weekly sojourn to Tesco last week, Oliver asked if he could 'go to the Worlds'. Now by this he means the annual World Pokemon Trading Card Tournament - trust me, this Tournament is a big deal in game-world. I prevaricated, as you do, amongst the milk and yoghurt section, saying yes, sure, when he was older, blah blah, and he then asked if he could just go to watch. Absent mindedly I asked where they were being held, and he replied 'Hawaaii', with the same lack of guile he would announce that they were being held in the next town. I threw back my head and laughed loudly, and mirthlessly. Two aisles later, I was still trying to find the words to explain why this was just not going to happen. Bless him to bits, gotta love a boy for trying. I love my son. He got lots of kisses and smiles for that one.

we three cats.....

Have found loving homes for Pepper and Spot.

Think Spot is my personal favourite, but Oliver wants to keep Flash.

aaahhhh, Saviour of the Universe. Bit of a shit joke if you haven't seen the film....

kitchenalia dahling

Watching the Delicious Miss Dahl on TV has rekindled my love of mismatched kitchen ware. I already have these,

and this is what the doggy drinks from:

And at the charity shop last weekend, I got these babies for 10p each -

thrillsville huh?

Yesterday I dragged Mum and Oliver off to the local recycling shop-ette and picked up these

and these rather weird mugs, which I took a shine to:

£4 the lot. I love the plates. They are like plates my Gran used to have and they have personality. Mark is 'Alarmed of Exeter' at the sudden influx of strange stuff, and wants to know what's wrong with our old plates. I told him they were boring (true) and chipped (not so true). And they are in the bin. He pointed out that they were perfectly adequate for the kak I dish up. Although not quite the words he used, the implication was definitely there. Pig. Anyway, I made goat's cheese and pesto cannelloni from scratch last night and it was lush. So there.

Think I shall start up my own TV programme based on the 'can't cook won't cook' premise. I shall call it 'can cook, shan't cook if you carry on with that attitude'.

a tale of fifteen tops

I wanted a new top - something casual, something 'cool' as in hey man, a top that said 'she's a cool dudette who looks ten years younger than her 42 years'. I tried on fifteen different tops - short sleeves, long sleeves, shirts and vests and all of the buggers just screamed 'who ate all the pies.' NOT quite what I had in mind. On the last trip out of the fitting room, the lady asked if they were any good, to which I informed her no, and that I was off home to cancel my night out on Saturday.

Sulk.

On a more positive note, I have completed my next art journal layout:

Found this one a bit easier than the first one, but still not exactly what I imagined. A bit like the fifteen tops debacle....

And the kittys:

The house is one giant hairball.