StitchBoy

Testing out my first prototype of my no-sew industrial messenger bag and it’s looking awesome. Will post the free pattern and tutorial over the weekend - check my blog on monday morning to download and send me some pictures of the one you made :)

Some people have a very bad habit of loosing shit every year – especially on work related year-end functions and new-years-eve parties – and I’ve joined this elite group of individuals this year with a lifetime Platinum membership in my welcoming package.

I all started with a few drinks … watered down with some lemonade.

Coming to think of it – no good stories ever start with ‘ …. she was sitting comfortably, in front of her was the most amazing arrangement of fresh salad ingredients she’s ever seen. She enjoyed the sensory overload of colours and the smell of fresh cucumber – reminding her of her mother and days spend in her kitchen ….’ – NO, I DON’T THINK SO

…. to get back to the story – one drink leads to the next intertwined with good conversation and meeting old friends again and some new people. One could say that everyone was enjoying themselves a lot.

….. until the next morning when you wake up with a pounding headache and the feeling of morning sickness reminding me – once again – why my mom always taught me to drink a glass of water after every glass of wine – she didn’t always follow her own advice … if I may add.

Then you start picking up the clothes, scattered all over the apartment. My new jeans was torn between the legs – was I fighting an elephant last night ? …. but more importantly …. why would I walk around in a club with my underwear and possibly some dirty bits hanging out – could the party really have been THAT good ? Then I remembered climbing over the gate – only realizing now that there is other gates where any sober person could walk through without putting any future generations at risk.

I put the kettle to boil and start putting together the puzzle pieces of what exactly happened last night.

You start checking your phone for some clues – nothing.

You start looking for slips of the travels where Mastercard and Visa took you last night … a bit hard if you can’t find your wallet and abruptly my exploration as to the happenings of the new year came to an end – no clues, no slips, no drivers license and the feeling of loss descending on me like a heavy cloud seconds before the beginning of a thunder storm.

But like anything in life – you pick yourself up and you make a list of what needs to happen first to sort it all out in order for normality to continue.

So there I was – standing in a cue as long as the wall of China and applying for a new drivers license, along with everybody else that lost their personal belongings over the holiday season and after a long day – and some more cues – I walked out with a temporary license the size of a world map only to be able to hand it over to a power-tripping cop the next time I get pulled over on another ‘routine road block’ so they can try to solicit a bribe from me and make me feel like they’re doing me a huge fucking favor by taking some of my hard earned cash in exchange for not wasting anymore of my time with irrelevant questions about my drinking habits and personal life – which should be just that – MY PERSONAL LIFE.

Christmas and the whole holiday season flies by so damn fast – I’m still trying to get in to the spirit of things and suddenly I find myself sitting at work – memories of Christmas still fresh in my head and a sudden feeling of hunger for some lemon sorbet in-between starters of fried haloumi & cranberry jelly and a main of Cheddermelt schnitzel with peppered-to-death soft butter-mash.

….. which brings me to this weekend’s project – lemon sorbet made from fresh lemons, lots of sugar, water, a few pans …… and no ice-cream machine in sight. Those of you that personally know me will also know that I’ve been banned from the kitchen area of many and that I once made a surprise birthday dinner for my boyfriend with all the bells and whistles one would expect from a five star establishment  - only problem was that he was greeted with a house full of smoke (smelling of the remains of what used to be bacon), some raw cheese bangers and weird eggs that looked like someone invented a new cooking method – one could describe it as somewhere between fried and scrambled – but definitely not visually appealing. The cake had three pink candles and the banner on the wall announced ‘happy birthday’ in so much bling that even a blind man would be able to read it. It was such a magical moment ….

Armed with some creative spirit and memories of the seaside shores of Italy I set out to get the idiots-recipe for making lemon sorbet.

I’ll post some pictures and instructions to let you all know how things went and if the fire brigade was able to salvage some of my award winning lemon sorbet soon. Emsie Schoeman would be so proud ….

… we came to this world with nothing, and we leave with nothing but love, everything else is just borrowed - no regrets and no sorrow. I light a candle for you tonight, hoping you’re soul will find peace.