can u tell it's winter here?

And we've been indoors too long. If we were plants we'd be wilting from lack of fresh air and sunshine. And he's been unwell again. And I've been so tied up in keeping him comfortable and myself sane. All I can say is thank God for my projects. An exhibition to plan for next year gives me loads of time to puddle along and yet keep my passion alive. 'Slow' food, clothing and indeed living seems to be not just a sentiment but it's quickly become my reality. The old adage that one is only as fast as the slowest member in the team is apt in my case.

I love textiles. Duh, that's a no brainer. I love texture. I love organic fibres. I love memory cloth. Quilts, peggy square blankets, handknits, doileys and embroidered cloths, barkcloth from the South Pacific, ('hiapo' Niue, 'siapo' Samoa, 'ngatu' in Tonga and mistakenly called 'tapa' in NZ). I love cloth that tells a story. Whether its been made for a purpose like a table cloth or burial cloth, or as a decorative piece. Cloth does it for me. Not the commercial ones. God no! But the one's that bear the hand of the maker.

I've been dyeing, stitching, making. I received a gift from my mum. She stitched vintage cloths and buttons and doodads onto a Trade Aid bag for me, her favourite girl in the whole world.

Cleo and I have been chugging along working out together like textiles girls do. No, not exercise. Just making, inspiring, cheering and imbibing on the great atmosphere that always results when we join forces. I have other women in my sphere now who also love making things. Some complex, some simple but it's all making and it's all valid. Art school tried to make me believe otherwise for a time and I thank them graciously for showing me how NOT to be encouraging and inspiring. That was a lesson well learned.

My making has been squeezed in the gaps between caring for a sick infant, miserable winter weather, school holidays, and life in general. But I need to do this.

There's a loveliness about working with my hands on cloth. I ponder that women once did it out of necessity whereas I do it because I want too.

Hand worked has always been women's currency. Often in societies where women had no currency (meaning assets and money), their cloth was their currency, their assets, something that they had personal power over.

Think glory boxes and how girls used to fill them with embroidered cloths for their lives as wives one day. Think native American women and other indigenous cultures and their elaborate clothing and homewares.

And as I sit amidst the chaos and thrum that is my family, home and life ... I am happiest when my handiwork is in my lap and my fingers are busy and my heart is being poured into my latest project.

There's no photos of my recent work because I'm having anxiety about using the new SLR camera I got, lol. And I don't want to use my old camera because it just doesn't measure up. So instead, I leave you with some amazing links to other textile sights and don't forget to check their blog link lists out as well. This is where I go when I can go nowhere else, Knuckles and I peruse blogland.

This vintage suitcase filled with organically dyed skeins of wool just sets me buzzing. The maker uses madder root, marigolds, red/yellow onion skins amongst other botanics to get her colours. Now if I could find a supplier that produced yarn that looked like that, our bank balance would be in serious trouble and I would have to look at learning to knit more than just hats and scarves. I just need a few more lifetimes so I can play more. Stuff it, I'll just dye my own! What am I talking about. Go see her etsy shop which is sold out but worthy of viewing. I love her recycled vintage bags with old lace, etc. And to her blog Forest Bound (click to follow link).


Without a doubt, one of my favourite all time blogs belongs to Amanda Soule (click to follow link to Soulemama). She has authored two books to date on homemaking. She unschools her children (nature walks, play, garden, art), makes so much cool stuff like homewares (quilts, knits, sews), lives with great conviction and just inspires me during my 'at home' time as a parent. The above photo sets my heart thumping and wanting to scramble about and set up yet another sewing station. She lives in a great house full of handmade stuff, is honest about her bad days, has zillions of giveaways that we can enter from her sponsors (so she's found a way to create an income from her blog, clever girl) and has so much eye candy just in the photos alone. She recently organised a huge craft appeal and thousands of hats have gone to a country in need. I have gone through her complete archives during some of my not-so-good days. It's a great read if you want to find a different way of getting through the day as an at-home mum and injecting some quality in there. ;)

The scarf I am (endlessly) knitting for Rich came from Brooklyn Tweed's blog. He's an amazing knitter, his blog is an interesting read and I love using this silk/merino/alpaca blend Noro yarn. What a luxury ... of course Rich will be an old man by the time I finish the single rib 6 foot plus long scarf. And now Marcus wants one too. ;) Go check him out yarnsters.

Make some nifty slippers from an old wool blanket. Tutorial at Sew Green. Check out this site, so many wonderful links to other crafty sites. I want to try my hand at spinning (with a drop spindle thingee) and there's a tutorial on how to make one from a CD.

The Worsted Witch is also worthy of a mention. She points the way to great green and crafty blogs. I tried to find a picture but couldn't really because she features other folks work including the slippers above, the case of natural dyed wool and the urban gardening one below plus a great photo and link to handspun newspaper yarn, gorgeous knits, etc. But her sideline bloglist roll is incredible. Definitely worth checking out all the 'green' home industry folk out on her blog that are making and SELLING. I know Rich would love me to make some money. I think I am hopeless at entrepreneurial stuff but reading about these different homebased businesses with the same ethos as me is inspiring. Who knows.

And finally a bit of an education for me. See I desire to grow my own food someday soon. I love the River Cottage series, love the Outdoor Gourmet series on the food channel, the Outback Cafe and Kai Ora, a New Zealand series with great cuisine. I just like the idea of growing things and eating them. I know where they came from. They are fresh fresh fresh. And its fun. I just want my own plot of land first. I've stumbled across this blog, having read a mention in one of the above blogs and can't wait for a spare hour and a hot drink to peruse on the next wet day.

She says "As for the urban farmer in me, I’ve been cultivating the city for over ten years now, and my neighbors still think I’m crazy. It all started with a few chickens, then some bees, until I had a full-blown farm near downtown Oakland. My memoir about this farm was publishing by the Penguin Press June 11, 2009, and is available at most bookstores." Click here: Urban Farmer to follow link through to The Ghost Town Farm blog.

Enjoy friends. Lovely to be here again. If you know of other blogs and sites I might enjoy, leave me the links in the comments section below.

totally going with it ...

I wrote this last Wednesday. I have been meaning to get acquainted with new camera (slightly more complicated than last point-n-click but have no new energy to go with that desire. I just can't get past feeling tired ALL THE TIME. The world refuses to slow down so I have slowed down out of necessity, for sanity's sake, am drawing breath and taking some well needed space. All my projects are on hold, just keeping up with the kids and getting sleep seem to be all I can manage. I am well, so no need to worry. Just learning my new rhythms. :)

I got up about ten am with the baby. The boys happily munching and watching morning cartoons. I dressed the baby adorably, moisturised his lovely skin and stood back adoring my clean beaming baby. We had a lovely day of outings and invitations ahead of us. I organised the house, sorted out the big boys and wham! suddenly I was was in my room, shutting curtains and lying very very still. Sleep was the only thing I suddenly wanted.

I tried to play cards with the kids. Tried to prop the baby alongside me. Tried to think about lovely new photos on my camera that are just waiting to be taken. Imagined taking tea with friends and talking about important things like homeschooling and making stuff for our kids and life. Imagined my friend Chris who I haven't seen for ages and is feeling very isolated. But in vain.

Dumb dumb migraine stole a day of my life. Stole my boys a day out with their friends. It's gutting as I had friends waiting to see us after our weeks of isolation with flu. Works waiting to be admired and perused and 'please Rachelle can you bring your camera to document our creations'. Argh! And my poor kids, they are all healthy. They are dying to get out and play and live again.

On the upside (read the title again), I am ensconced on my bed with laptop after a sleep and a cup of tea and ginger kisses, the blankets are warm and the boys are happily keeping their baby occupied in the next room. I get visits from my children who inquire if I need anything and asking what to do with Knuckles now. I get phone calls as people read my demise on Facebook. I get an offer of help to bring us dinner, or fresh baked bread. I get prayed for. I am reminded I am not alone, I am loved, I am cared for and about. People out there care about my kids and I.

I email a person I spotted on tv last week. A guy who helped me out when I was struggling with art school. Just to thank him for his awhi and tautoko. He has a full face moko (tattoo) now and I wonder how he is enjoying his transformation. I love that. I love the courage and the mana (strength). It's powerful. I want tattoos. I want to be marked. It's just something I am strongly drawn too. I am just waiting for the right timing. I've been prayerful about it. I have gotten my share of lectures from some Christians against it, that God is against me marking my body. (So what are pierced ears and surgery if we aren't supposed to pierce our skin?). I am visual and I love mark making. It was always just a matter of time.

And that's another thing I ponder as I lay here. All these critics in my head. I think about my boys having to care for their brother as their mother lies in the next room trying to be well again. I wonder about my old church friends and their staunch ideas about what a successful family entailed. Owning your own business (seriously we tried it and failed cause we are not motivated by money, we flopped and yet we are happy for all those who are successful), a constantly tidy show home (meaning no children can play freely or cook or make piles of blankets into huts), a positive attitude all the time (how draining), no junk food (how boring), having a home (aka giant debt), designer clothes (not my thing) and make up (where do I start?). I think I struck out on so many levels and it was part of the reason I left.

Church talk has changed in the last twenty years. Successful living is being promoted so much more than it used to be. I remember twenty years ago the focus was living in the spirit. Now it's materialistic. Almost as if we have to perform well in our homes, lives, careers to prove that God is with us. It makes me cringe and withdraw from all shows of ostentatiousness. I am a rebel. If the church was full of hippy's I'd probably be against that too. But it's just too much when lifestyle and church services and events are the central focus, rather than the simple fact that God loves us. And that His plan is FOR us and not against us. That we are to care about each other. Simple. I can be a complicated woman, but my faith is simple. It has to be.

I like my new pastor. He's pretty on-to-it! He's down to earth and kind and positive and not full of himself. Still his way of being with God and people makes me want to be a better person. And that's enough for me.

This Martha-Stewart approach of do-it-all-yourself to Christianity is manifest in women in the church being preoccupied with their weight, size, appearance, clothing, make up and the self-promotional talk that just makes me want to gag. Thank goodness it's not so evident in my new church. I was like that once too. I thought I could become this fantastic Rachelle, who could change the world by being the bestest me (read: copy others who are more on to it than I am and often be something I wasn't). I bought into a mentality that was promoted by people I admired at the time. I'm still not sure what that was all about. I don't think about it too hard cause it conjures up all sorts of complicated feelings. Very unhelpful ones.

And before I fall into the trap of "I was all good and they were all bad", it wasn't like that. I met some awesome people. People who loved their kids and partners, who loved life, who loved doing life together. I learned much from them too. I guess my arrow is aimed at the prevailing and underlying arrogant assumptions that underscored much of that church's dogmatic teachings. Stuff that was hard to pinpoint but left people feeling insecure, inadequate and compromising who they really were in order to come up to the mark. Becoming performers rather than just permission to be ourselves loving a fantastic God.

I think it is incredibly arrogant and disrespectful for leaders to believe they know everything and that people just have to follow them. It leaves no room for God to work. Why would He? He has such incredible leaders. Argh.

See I don't mind admitting I don't know everything. I don't have everything together. I don't want to be all things to all people. I can't get around some of my weaknesses. I fail some days. I don't always feel good about myself. I am slower at catching on to things than others at times and at screening what comes out of my mouth. I know that my 'say it as I see it' way of being is hard for some people to take. It's hard for me to live with sometimes. I fail to fit the 9-5 way of living and live most of my life at the edges of conservatism.

Some times the places where I expect to see more grace ended up being the most damning places. Still I love my friends in spite of our differences. That's the whole point isn't it.

And I do wonder as I walk into my funky smelling kitchen (Rich cooked a flippin curry again and the laundry flooded leaving piles of damp clothes and a mat to rot in this winter season) what all those houseproud women would think if they walked into my home. I pray they don't.

I love the happy sounds of my kids as they trundle past in their own idea of what dressed means. I love that lunch today was prepared by my 12 year old son - microwaved meat pies and a cup of tea and ginger kisses from a packet. It seriously warms my heart that I asked and he complied willingly, then changed his first awful baby nappy ever. And never complained. not once.
I love that I can relax and get well.

I know those voices in my head would like me to think that somehow I am failing. That somehow I am not doing my family like they would. I refuse to let them win. I am going with it. This is after all MY life. My own home. Run yours how you will. Raise your kids how you will. I will observe and catch anything from you that helps me be a better mum, a better woman. But I will raise mine how I am led to. I will not judge you. Do not judge me. Do not tell me that God says things that He doesn't. It's hard enough in this world without us all turning on each other that way.

Thanks especially to Laurene and Betty Ann for kind offers of help and love. Laurene, you and others like you continue to restore my hope that church does work. It does with people like you. Betty Ann is our special treasure sent from God. She is there to prod and poke and send me mother-like tones in emails, messages, phone calls and gifts. She just loves from where she is. She is waiting for heart surgery later this week. She extends a hand. (currently recovering from her operation).

So I am going with it - migraine, messy house (now after a day of the boys having free rein), scruffy kids, smelly kitchen, messy hair. It's ok because it's mine and I feel very right about all that is going on in my life right now.