Elks and Stars and All Things Nice…

Ding dong.

The Evil Northern Wind is back.

You know, the kind that lures you into false safety of thinking “Yay!  Off with the thermals.  Out with the pale!”  Only for you to turn blue a few minutes after you have stepped outside.

 But I will not be fooled. I will not go out.

Instead I will be typing this post while admiring the wild garden I have planted on my cheese sandwich.


And talking about sandwiches, if you haven’t seen Ida Skivenes’ sandwich art yet, go and have a peep.  You will never look at your morning cardboard-like toast with the same contempt mixed with hunger.

Gimme Gimme Gimme Some Blog Love…

This week has been horrible.  Not enough sleep and a mean cold holding me hostage resulted in a lot of browsing and blog-stalking.  Here is who made my snotty days:

  • For a blogging newbie like me it was great to come across this post by dorkymum.  The Bloggers Cabinet has my vote
  • Another post that made me smile is this one by Grenglish.  Serendipity is one of my favourite words and as soon as the gale force winds allow me I will be running to the Boots around the corner to buy some sunscreen
  • The Magic Moments linky is brilliant for hopping from one blog to another so check out The Oliver Madhouse
  • The_Secret_Father blogging about birthday cake  – say no more!
  • On a “horizontal-rain” day” I check out the Bikeable Jo’s blog that is full of great bikeable tips and stories.  No spandex there!

The World Is But A Canvas…

When I was in secondary school I had to do a presentation (on any subject) in my English class.

I decided to talk about the modern art scene in Scotland (little did I know…).

I was on a mission to bring Art to my class mates and inspired by photos of a rotten bunch of carrots on an empty bookshelf I created two pieces.  Imagine:

  • A sheet of paper painted black.  A dry piece of bread glued on it in the bottom left corner.  “Hunger”
  • A piece of wire sticking out of a molehill made of scrunched up toilet paper.  On top of the wire perched a dry apple core painted in gold.  “Paradise Lost”

Bursting with pride and confidence arrogance I uncovered my artwork.  Silence.  It stretched and stretched and when it was about to rupture the laughter erupted and spilled into the classroom and out over the sport grounds.  And even though my career as an artist never survived that blow I love discovering new art and here are some recent finds that beat my “Hunger” and “Paradise Lost”:

  • Geoff Allan’s collage work inspired by the Scottish hills, universe and everything else:Of Love and Loss (2008)spring
  • Marie Claire Taylor’s paintings burst with energy and colour – a great pick-me-up! Mares 6

From A Bookworm’s Diary…

In a recent book review I was comparing starting a new novel to going on a blind date.

Let me share another great date with you – A Summer of Drowning by John Burnside.  A tale of dreams and reality mixing together on the remote and eerie island of Kvaloya, north of Norway.  Beautifully told with prose and poetry uniting to create a unique language (yes, I’m suffering from  writer’s envy).  Thank you BlueBeretGranny for introducing me to another Scottish masterpiece.


 A Sewing Friend…

I can’t knit. I can’t sew.  Don’t even get me started on embroidery.  Full disclosure: I failed to crochet my way through the Home Economics classes and when it comes to crafts I’m scarred for life.

In my head I spend my days knitting cute hats and scarves for baby mice squatting under our  floor and embroidering my family tree (more of a scrawny bush) on a white linen tablecloth.  In reality I scream when anyone mentions the word Crafts.

And even though I’m anti –crafti I sometimes succumb to craft envy.  Like when my friend Melissa surprises Peanut with the most adorable elks and stars outfit.  Made by her with lots of love.

A few tears of joy and warmth and admiration later…










A  friend with a needle is a friend indeed.

For the reasons mentioned above,  I could never be a part of the Graffiti Grannys movement, yarn bombing the world and guerrilla knitting in harbours.  But if, like me, you are a knitting-phobic and a hopeless case barely able to tie her/his own shoe laces, the first step in overcoming your phobia is to say hello to them on Facebook or on Twitter.

No, you probably will not start knitting in the rain.  But you might stop tearing your hair out every time you see a sheep.  Woolly Good!

On that note, I am off to wrestle the gales with a cup of white hot chocolate in my hand and this brilliant story by Marian Keyes .  I dare you not to be rolling on the floor when you are done with it!

Bye for now.

P.S.  Blueberets are off to Sweden soon, where one-third of the gang will be skiing their way across the Arctic Circle while the rest will be schmoozing with friends and family and stuffing their faces with meatballs which means that instead of my usual ramblings you will be treated to a guest blog or two.

See you all late May!

Ding Dong.