Rosie says ..... "Collections, Hoards and Stashes

I was watching the Collectors on the ABC last night. The Adult Children think that I am a bit saaaaad because I like this show. Let them think. Anyway, in this programme they had a woman who collects and is obsessed with anything to do about wrestling. American type wrestling that is.... it certainly isn't the Olympic Games sort of wrestling. I don't like wrestling, any kind of wrestling; or boxing either. I can't see that much brain power is used in this type of activity, if they have brains at all. She’s got thousands of videos and the same amount of 'wrestling heroes' stuck to her walls. A really weird woman, but the funny thing is, her day job is a crossing guard at a school. Lollipop ladies, we call them. And guess what, our lollipop lady is obsessed with shooting. Weekends are spent shootin’. I'm at a loss to know what exactly she shoots. She once said that she goes shootin’ ferral cats on people’s bush properties. And do you know what they do with feral cats once they have shot them? They nail them on to the property’s fence. One by one. All in a row. Must stink after a while, a bit whiffy depending upon the degree of decay and the direction of the wind. Just think …. you’re sitting down to a nice meal of roast lamb, then a foul whiff of dead cat comes wafting along in the breeze ……. makes you wonder what you’re eating. Food for thought. Oh our shootin' lollipop lady does have a feminine side ..... she makes the most beautiful bobbin lace!

Sew, what is it that I collect? Well the truth is that ..... I hoard and stash, but not collect. It is an inherited trait. My parents are great hoarders, as was their parents. I remember my dearest Nanna having a great stash of wool. Real 100% wool, usually Patons wool. She was always knitting, her hands were never still. When Nanna passed away and the family were tidying up the home, there they found a huge amount of wool, still presented in its clear cellophane type wrapping. Incredible. I inherited her knitting needles, all sorts of plastic and tortoiseshell, and a few tatting shuttles that were all kept in a hard plastic needle case. The lid of the needle case also served as the knitting needle gauge. All manner of different sized holes adorned the lid, and you poke your knitting needle in the hole that fits best and it correlates to a number. This is the size of the needle. But the sizing of needles are all different now and it calls for a different numbering gauge.

My father dabbles in calligraphy, and a beautiful hand at that. I think that he hopes that I may take up the art because everytime I go to Sydney to visit, he offloads inks, in cartridges and bottles, and assorted nibs and pens. And I marvel at his works and displays. I am in awe. Yes, one day I will.

And what about that stash of fabric that every serious sewer/quilter has? There's always a story behind that bit of fabric that you purchased, and there's always a plan in the back of your mind for the future use of that fabric. You know what I mean. I need not say more.

Here's Toby, in a pensive mood. He is just a gorgeous little boy. Mum's favourite boy.

(..... and I rather think that he knows it!)