Had you said to me before yesterday that I would ever hold the above sentiment, let alone commit it to writing, I would have told you that you needed to call the white coats on yourself. (And I do hope that my mother, if reading, hasn’t already fainted!).

So, let me explain why I would make such a preposterous statement.

When taking out… oh, let’s say 2 1/2 weeks’ worth of recycling today, I found this!!

An olive-coloured pirate’s chest! And my mailbox key works on the lock (hmm, I guess this means I’d better not store valuables in it…given that my mailbox key operates on at least two other mailboxes in the building – as I learned purely by accident, I assure you).

I posed it together with my (alleged) Law Stay Away candle:

I LOVE these occult candles. Two to three bucks each at any decent dollar store, and they last forever! I used to have the whole collection: (alleged) Put A Hex on Nine People, (alleged) Find Your True Love, (alleged) Find a Job – and let’s not forget the whole Jesus and Mary collection. Right now, I’m down to this one and the (alleged) Good Luck In Your Court Case that I keep at the office for special occasions.

(I don’t know what the “alleged” is there for. I suspect someone sued one of these companies for big bucks at some point when their hex didn’t work, they lost their court case, they didn’t get a job, etc.)

But back to the regularly scheduled programme. I also spotted this:

I must tell you that I exhibited my usual forbearance and considered deliberation in this acquisition (Good Kristina having made a sudden reappearance… back from her hangover at the hands of Evil Kristina, apparently!), because I don’t really “need” another rolling bookshelf. Really, I don’t.

I even made it back up to the apartment without it (having initially decided it would be very useful if only to roll pirate’s chests in from the large garbage disposal). Also, I was rather fearful that JJ would have me committed if he came home last evening from work to find yet another piece of “rescued” furniture.

Here is a snippet from the last conversation we had on the topic:

JJ: When we moved in here, hen, you had all those furnitures from IKEA. You said you were sick and tired of looking at them, so we went and bought a total set of replacements. Now you’re bringing in things again from IKEA???

KB: (sulking) It’s not from IKEA…

JJ: Correction – it WAS from IKEA before some wanker bought it and kept it in their flat for five years and then – wisely, ah might add – threw it out.

KB: But I have a plan to decorate it.

JJ: With broken plates from the Goodwill? I try to provide well for you, yet you insist on bringing in garbage and junk and playing with it.

KB: (sulky pause)

JJ: And just where will you put it, anyway? There’s no room! We have a living room set from Leon’s and a dining room set from Idomo…

KB: (giving the silent treatment, which is a big challenge indeed, when you’re KB)

JJ:… so I guess it’s just going to sit in the spare room for a year or so and then migrate to the storage locker, am I right?

The hell of it is… he was right!

So, I was just going to leave it down there. Then – ANOTHER benefit of housework! – when desperately seeking the vacuum cleaner, I came across this long-forgotten cache from Goodwill:
Perfect for covering the bookshelf!!!

So, up came the bookshelf into the craft materials/yarn stash black hole otherwise known as the KB/JJ household.

(As an aside, I should note that JJ approved highly of the pirate’s chest and suggested I upholster part of it to use as an ottoman. Excellent idea! He either didn’t notice the bookshelf or ignored it. However, he will certainly notice it tonight once it has broken colourful dishes all over it! OPA!!! )

More characteristically, however, I should also mention that yesterday also provided a lesson in the benefits of procrastination. This, by the way, is actually a lesson I don’t really need, as I am a highly educated, extreme morphomeni* – in fact, I’ve been putting off defending my PhD thesis entitled “The Perils of Procrastination – Why the Greeks No Longer Rule the World” for some five years now.

* “morphomeni” = “learned” in both Ancient and Modern Greek. Some have even told me that I am para-morformeni (i.e. over-schooled) – repeatedly, like the male relative who shall remain nameless but who keeps quoting the gringlish phrase “Booooook smarrrrrrt, life stupid”. My answer to this is typically to sing this little ditty – at least to myself under my breath. Which is probably just as well given my singing voice.

However, for those lesser mortals who still benefit from ongoing education… in my ever-so-organized fashion, my list of things to do yesterday included removing all of the recycling which had grown to epic proportions due to the bloody Toronto Star insisting on sending “free” newspapers that we don’t even read (because, of course, there were no empty whisky or beer bottles. Well, maybe one or two) – no later than 10:00 a.m. By the time I actually made it down there it was 4:30 or so.

And – I was just in the nick of time!

As I was coming in with the chest, the building superintendent whose name begins with “M” came out. He looked at me with disbelief and disappointment and said, “I was out here half an hour ago and that wasn’t there!!!” You snooze, buddy…you lose.

Oh – also, when cleaning I came across this which was hidden underneath a bunch of old cigarette packs with phone numbers written on them and some Canadian Tire money:

I can’t remember if I posted this photo before or not. It is my Crazy Watermelon plate – I acquired the base plate a couple of years back from Goodwill and added the tile, beads and grout. I quite like it.

And, here are my two latest mosaic creations:

(a) No Mirrors in My House! (a Treasure from Trash)”

Yesterday, you may recall that it looked like this:

I took the mirror out of its actual frame (having spraypainted the frame blue) and glued a border of mixed tiles, beads and sea glass on the backing. Then I cut up the mirror, and repositioned it into the mosaic “frame”. I then stuck beads and glass to cover some little nicks.

The grout was chapparal brown mixed with cadmium red and burnt siena pigment.

Now, if I were a really deep and pretentious artiste-type person, I would tell you that the symbolism of this piece involves a deep sociocultural commentary on the fate of many young women who spend hours on end looking at themselves in department store mirrors, hating what they say, and feeling fractured and very blue as a result.

But I am not a big artiste, nor am I big at understanding symbolism until it beats me over the head after the fact and completely depresses me. So, I’ll tell you only that I love looking at blue and white glass and china, and that it is named by one of JJs favourite expressions: “No mirrors in your house, eh?” (which expression, when directed at me, is usually followed by “Why don’t you use that comb I gave you? Where is it, anyway? Did you glue it to a table or something?”)

Oh, and in case you had the thought that broken mirrors bring bad luck for some period of time… that doesn’t count when they are cut, not broken. Or so I keep telling myself…

(b) A Genteel Existence (a Brouhaha storage locker find, revisited)

Remember this?
It has now morphed into this:

Doesn’t it look better with these on?

(a classic example of English as She is Spoke, I suspect – what are “colour pebbles”, anyway?
Are they meant to be “Pebbles of Colour”? If so, just say so, dammit!)

Anyway, the in-house review process is now complete, more or less. JJ approved highly of this one (having disliked it immensely in its original form, as, really, did I). So highly, in fact, that it has pride of place above the sofa… where he doesn’t have to look at it while watching Nigella or The Daily Planet! Conversely, the verbal review on the mirror piece was “uh-HUH… um, well… it has an offbeat sort of look. Very modern.” Nice save, JJ!

Hmm. Better sign off. Maybe if I go back downstairs today those old rusted golf clubs will still be there…imagine the potential for pissing off the neighbours with a spiky sheaf of gold clubs protruding from the balcony rails!! heh heh heh.

Happy “Extra Hour of Sleep” Day!

Kristina

…although you will surely question the above statement (aside from the “so-called” bit) after reading this. It will, however, give you a snapshot into how my brain works and my actions follow.

I’m probably just still mourning the passing of Hallowe’en fun…

On Tuesday night, I was sorting through old photos when I found these:

Anyone from Toronto will surely remember the Moose in the City project from the summer of 2000. 326 moose sculptured were scattered throughout the city. This was rather comical for some of us living here at the time… at least, it was for me.

My close friend Mr. Treasures from Trash has a side interest in photography, and at the time made it his ambition to photograph every one of the mooses (meece??). The day these were taken, I accompanied him on the downtown leg of the trek. I bailed on him three or so hours later after number 49 or so that day and headed to the pub.

As harmonious convergences go, on Wednesday when I was at the LYS for the Payday ritual (I was surprisingly abstemious, buying only a copy of Crochet Me), I came across a flyer for the upcoming Moose Show Festival of Fine Craft. I had never heard of this before, and took it as a sign that I should post my very own personal moose photos here.

This led, of course, to thinking about crafts (quelle surprise!)… which led to ruminating about an apartment I had lived in some ten years ago and more. This photo directly followed the moose shots:

A cozy (very cozy indeed) basement apartment. This photo represents about 1/2 the square footage in the place. Seriously. The ceiling was 5’6″ high. This didn’t bother me, but my then boyfriend was six feet tall and couldn’t walk upright in the apartment. Good thing he lived out of town. In other words, rather “bijou”… but the rent was the right price and the landlords were nice.

I lived in this apartment for most of my law school career. While living there,
I made a table with some old tiles my father had gotten as leftovers from a construction job a buddy of his had done (or so he said… but it is entirely possible that they came off the back of some truck. Of course, being in law school I didn’t really want to hear the whole story. I got the table (an IKEA special) for five bucks at a yard sale.

However, the table quite literally did not fit in my apartment, so I couldn’t display it until I moved to Parkdale:

With the cigarettes, popcorn and general detritus of life removed, it looked somewhat better:

I used this as my main living room table (once I climbed high enough in the world to actually afford a living room) for about eight years. Then, having gotten tired of looking at it and having climbed that little bit further, I bought a living room set. The table lost its legs to another project (a standing chess board, which sadly got broken when someone fell on top of it at a party). Accordingly, its new home is here:

What would I do without a storage room in the building? I’m sure I would have wrecked my back by now taking out all this junk. And junk it is. Whenever I have to make a visit down there (for the odd seasonal item which actually still has utility and value), I wonder what on earth would possess me to hold on to (inter alia) the following:

– two old phones
– an ancient power drill
– some pillows
– cassette tapes (I haven’t had a cassette player for approximately three years)
– a broken dehumidifier

I then think about tossing it all… for about a minute. Then some long lost treasure (such as a metal Player’s cigarette box) catches my eye and I lose all impulse to clean it out, “just in case…” (quotation marks intentional).

The long lost treasure discovery for 30 October 2007 was this:

My father, who was an upholsterer, gave me this some time back. It was a remnant from a job and he noticed the perfect little picture in the centre. So, he mounted it on particleboard and gave it to me.

I had it hanging in my apartment for quite some time. However, it wasn’t really “me” and so it got banished to the storage locker when I moved into this building three years ago.

Now, I’m going to try to jazz up the border and see if that improves my liking of it. Stay tuned.

On my way back up from the storage locker, I had to stop into the laundry room to see if there were any offerings from the Other People’s Junk Goddess. Bonanza!!

Unfortunately, no craftables. However, some excellent books. Four cookbooks!!! (just as I started a cookbook exchange at work in part to rid myself of cookbooks. I guess I can always stick some more in the storage locker.

I also found this Gap fake suede bomber jacket, size medium!

Look at the fancy lining!!

I shall have to figure out what I can do with that. JJ doesn’t want it, although I think it would look fab on him. He pointed to a rip on the elbow.

You can hardly see it! And now I finally know why I felt compelled to buy that bag of leather scraps last month… which is lost somewhere in the stash room at present. Maybe I can replicate this, for example:

(A fab 70s leather jacket which I scored on Roncesvalles some years back for $10.00! The lable says “Aegean Leather – Styled in Paris” – does this actually mean “Made in Taiwan?” Hmm…) I guess this is why I bought that bag of leather scraps last month from Perfect Leather, which at present resides under the computer desk! Everything happens for a reason…

(I can hear JJ sighing loudly next to me. He must know what I’m writing about…
JJ is not a big fan of the Treasures from Trash school of thought [although he did enjoy the picture book of London and the “Wok With Yan” book I scored in this haul]. This is perhaps understandable as he grew up during war time with older siblings and perhaps did not own anything new until he started to work. Good thing he hasn’t figured out where all those Eddie Bauer sweaters I have so lovingly gifted him actually come from!)

So, all in all, a good and creative day was had by me the night before Hallowe’en. I leave you with this pretty picture of broken tiles and electric blue grout:

And, just in case you thought I gave up knitting:

This is one of the works in progress – a blanket made out of a long-abandoned sweater back (entrelac seed stitch argyle – what the hell was I thinking!). Using up worsted/aranweight wools from the scrap pile.