Monthly Archive

I’m just not ready for Christmas. It’s worrying and fretful-making. I usually love Christmas passionately but it’s starting to feel like *whispering now* Too Much Trouble.
Instead of putting up my decorations (was it really only seven years ago that I was teased mercilessly for having more than ten Christmas trees in the house?), I’m selling them on etsy.

Well, not all of them. Just this garland that I made this year. I think it’s great (being a yoyo lover and all) but the kids have given me grief about it (Damn kids. Who said they could have opinions?), so I’m hoping to send it to a home where it is loved and wanted.

Yay! Good news! It IS going to live in a house where it will be loved and petted and folded up nicely on December 31st! Thanks, Michelle :-*

And then there’s this doll I made. I actually made three (they are all different) and I’m asking myself, “Self? Do you even need ONE rag doll at your age, let alone three?” So I’m selling her, too. It’s not her fault that she drew the LONG straw (a ticket out of this mad house is not to be sneezed at!). She just happened to be handy and the other two were hiding.

Maybe as the house clears out a bit, I’ll start to feel calmer? Or maybe I’ll just hide,too, until it’s all over.

“Ha!”, says Peter, ” and Ha! again.”

What I mean is, BLOG housekeeping. As life became busier of late and blogging less, I realise I haven’t kept up with what is needed. There are cobwebs in the corner of my blog. YOU can help. Here’s what I would like - do you link to my blog and I have neglected to link you back?? This is a nasty oversight on my part. Now is the time to tell me if you should be on my links page! Don’t be shy, just leave a comment. “HEY YOU!! LINK ME ALREADY!!” would do. Or, if you don’t like making a public spectacle of yourself, email me on the Q.T. at kirsty(at)kirstenduncan(dot)com(dot)au
***NOTE***if I don’t link you after that it means I didn’t get your email, so don’t pout!***

Thank you! thank you! thank you! for the confidence boost you all gave me over the last few days. I really needed it and it REALLY TRULY helped to hear from you guys. You’ll see that I’ve deleted those last two posts. That’s because I’ve become a bit twitchy about theft. I’ve had a few posts pinched lately and I really don’t want to lose any of my design work! I’ll keep posting pics but I might be a bit selective about what I put out there for a while.

Yeah, well you’re a big doody head

Our new office is in an interesting area on the edge of the City Centre, surrounded by other engineering-type businesses. I look through the windows from my desk and see everyone who walks by. I realised yesterday that there are really only Two Types of Passerby - engineers and people who live in the local halfway houses/hostels.
I’m starting to have favourites. My bestest favourite is Waiting-For-the-Mothership-Dude. He wears one of these.

Peter tells me it’s a radio, but I know different. I know he actually waiting for contact from Beyond. And when that Mothership comes, he’s going to be ready. I hope he’s happy in Space.

I met another man this week, who at first glance is very unattractive. Now I am a firm believer that there are very very few truly unattractive people in the world, but he NEARLY qualified. Within minutes, however, I found him to be one of the most appealing people I have ever met - intelligent, charming, witty, principled and, above all, kind. And I swear he became better looking with every passing moment. I remember a teacher at my (girls’) school telling us fourteen year old fools, “Handsome is as handsome does”. We were a little too vacuous, a little too dumb to really understand. She was right. And Fine Character is a powerful antidote to having missed out on the Cute Gene.

This deserves to be an eloquent post, but unfortunately it turned into a ramble. Never mind, right now it’s the best I can do…

There are lots of us in The Mothers Whose Children Have Died Club. But not enough of us talk about it and new members can feel very alone. Even not so new members can feel alone. One of the bloggers I read regularly recently wrote about the death of her daughter and the temptation there is for some to say “It’s been years. Get over it.”
Do we ever get over the death of a child? What does getting over it mean anyway?

If it means forgetting – no.
If it means getting on with living – yes.
If it means going back to the way things were – no.
If it means pretending it didn’t happen – only if you are complete fool.

Our son died at home, sitting on our sofa eating dinner and wheedling at his sister to change channels on the TV. One second we were about to have dinner and the next, well, what happened? What happens in that moment is that everything changes. Every Thing. Nothing is ever like it was. Nothing is untouched. Your whole world has a new colour layered over it that you can’t remove, like a filter on a camera lens. Every thing looks different and, after a while, you are not too sure what the world used to look like.

It’s not just death that does this to us. There are a myriad of traumatic events that people all over the world experience every day. And it isn’t even just Bad Stuff that does this to us. Falling in love does it, too, and giving birth to a child, and so does climbing a mountain.

I suppose I should be drawing some profound conclusion. I’m not sure I can. It just is what it is. It’s just life and living and being human. Life isn’t static, it moves and flows. People come into our lives and people leave our lives. No experience leaves us as it found us. Some experiences are worthy of remembrance, worthy of celebration. They’ve lead us to this place and are part of who we are. What’s to get over?

The part you DO need to get over is the sting of pain that appropriates moments it should just bugger off out of, stealing into the joyous moments of your life where it has no right to be. As you delight in someone else’s new baby, it sends you a glimpse of a little ear that you remember kissing and then sneaks up on you and wallops you hard across the back of the head.
There’s a pain in every new thing you do that doesn’t include your child. Going new places where they are not known hurts. Every new friend who never knew them is a reminder that your child is no longer physically present. You carry them with you, invisibly, and it feels as if the rest of the world is ignoring your precious child, not even acknowledging that they exist. But the truth is that only you know they are there.

That’s what you do need to get beyond, because that’s the part that can become immobilising and crushing. That’s the part that starts to inflict pain on everyone around you.

I have mostly gone past that place, but I’m not sure how. I can’t explain how to do it to other grieving mothers. I wouldn’t even presume to try. But I’m grateful.

You may have noticed the “Handmade Pledge” badge on my sidebar (heaps of other bloggers have them, too). Check out the site that goes with it; it’s a great idea and worth considering. The concept is simple - this Christmas, pledge to buy handmade gifts only. Bugger those big retail outlets. Support a starving artist instead! I’ve been doing quite a bit of it lately, buying stuff from etsy for Christmas. Of course, I can’t show you photos of my purchases because that would ruin the surprise! But I will give you some links to shops I’ve been frequenting
paperologie
madelaine (how extraordinary is this girl? she is only sixteen!!)
tartx
heavenhelpus
remake

My loathing of mega-retail has been building over a long period of time and I know I’m not alone. It’s practically a Movement. En masse we have become fed up with having mass-produced crap forced down our throats by the Nameless and Faceless. Time to cut out the middle man, people! Time to give your money to the artists and crafters and artisans of the world!

Similarly, I am more and more reluctant to give my dosh to Woolworths and Coles and Safeway and the like. I have been making a conscious effort for some time now to support local small businesses. And, interestingly enough, I’ve discovered that it isn’t necessarily more expensive to shop in these businesses. For years I’ve known that small local quilt shops are often cheaper than *cough* Spotlight *you KNOW I hate you* and other chain stores, but now I’ve found that the same is true of our local small grocery store. AND they stock superb products.

So, in the spirit of all that is handmade, here is a peek at what I am currently sewing. I’ve been making this quilt since about 2000! It’s a very very rare thing (for me) - a hand-quilted quilt. I don’t enjoy hand-quilting very much and I’m not very good at it. It will probably take another seven years to finish, even though it’s only cot size.
If you want to see the whole thing, have a look here.

And here is a glorious gift that I received as a surprise in the mail recently. The lovely Miss Mormar sent me this ruler stand made by her aunt.
All quilters know that we live in fear of chipping our brittle rulers (once they are chipped they become pretty much useless) and they are tricky to store. This clever stand props them up on a shelf or desk. Unfortunately her aunt doesn’t have an internet site to buy them from, but I sure appreciate mine! Thank you, D xxx!

If I hadn’t been tagged today for a meme, you wouldn’t have heard a peep out of me for another day or two. So send brickbats or bouquets, depending on how you feel about this, to Kate

Here’s the deal. I tell you stuff basing each thought on a letter from my name.(these are the actual rules: List one fact, word or tidbit that is somehow relevant to your life for each letter of your first or middle name. You can theme it to your blog or make it general. Then tag one person for each letter of your name.)

We all know I love talking about myself, so this should be easy.

K : kissing is one of my favourite activities in the whole world. My kids hate me for it, and even poor Peter probably cops more than he needs or even wants. Tough. If I love you, you WILL suffer my kisses and you had BETTER at least pretend that you like it. Here’s a funny story that rats out my sister. When she was five and my husband’s lovely brother was about twenty two, she was sitting on his knee smothering his face in kisses. He was doing his best to put up with it while having a conversation with someone else. Eventually, annoyed that he wasn’t paying enough attention to her, she asked him, “Do you like kissing me?” He responded with a “Hmmm”. Full of confidence, she shot back, “Never mind, we’ll get used to it.”

I : intuition. Is it intuition or revelation or something else altogether that hits me over and over when I meet new people? I so often know things about them that I haven’t been told. Serious things, private things. I very seldom tell them what I know, but sometimes I kind of blurt things out. I have tried to ignore this (successfully) at different times of my life. Now I wish I had nurtured it more. Maybe I will yet.

R : regret. Not too many in my life. I wish I had realised earlier in life that I owe other people nothing - no explanations, no commitments, no obligation - unless I choose to. I wish I had known at sixteen how pretty I was and that I wasn’t fat. I wish I had been braver intellectually. I wish I had questioned convention a whole lot more. That’s about it. I can live with that.

S : sister. I’m glad I have one. She is beautiful, graceful, exceptionally talented. She was born when I was 13 and, when I was 18, I married Peter and moved away.She was only five, so for a long time we didn’t know each other very well. These days I think we know each other very well. Here’s another regret - there have been times I’ve hurt her accidentally (the story above was no accident, sorry, M.) And, worse, there have been a couple of times when I knew full well that what I was about to say would hurt. I really wish I hadn’t done that. I wish I’d been a better sister, a less judgmental one, a more understanding one. It took us a while to learn to have an adult relationship. I’m so happy we’ve got there. Meredith, I love you.

T : truth. My brother has been wrestling with this one for a while (love you, too, Jon!). How does one define Truth? I suddenly feel completely unable to answer the question. I’m no longer even sure that I want to try. Isn’t Truth different for each person? What I do know for sure is that honesty is one of the most important things in my life. I value honesty above just about everything else.

and, honestly? I’m too sleepy for this!! T is for Tired.

Y: *yawn*

It probably buggers up memes not to tag people for the next round, but I far prefer to let you self-tag. So go for it.