Maybe...

We have a women's relaxation retreat for church this weekend.

Okay, so the majority of women think they are going to a QUILTING and relaxation retreat.

I'm not.

I do have, however, a project to do and have got all the bits and pieces together.  Including the fact that my red and black inks arrived from Pencraft in Adelaide this week in plenty of time for the weekend.  They are wonderful and have great service - even suggesting a substitution for what I wanted when my first choice was not in stock and might not have made it in time.

I'm planning on taking some photos, but I won't necessarily have internet connection.

Watch this space...

And the chance that any of the quilters are likely to want to work next to me and my red and black ink?

... Good thing too!  I'd hate my ink to get all spoiled by contact with fabric.

Back from our Weekend Away

Had a wonderful weekend. Giggles is so cute and very verbal for her age. Also really determined in anything that she wants to do. Uncle Beloved (who actually gets "Aunty Beloved") was dragged around by the hand for a while at the park to help her do things. Until she was finished with him, when she waddled off to something else. Adorable.

After the party we went back to the house to put Troy together while Giggles had a sleep (he'd had to travel in two separate cars). Once he was operational all the adults were impatient for her to wake up. One of Giggles' other aunties got to have a ride to check that all was okay, due to the fact that she is very slim and tall enough to get on without unnecessary transverse pressure.

Giggles was still a bit sleepy when she finally got to see what was under the doona, and stood transfixed for a while. She was put up onto him and the boys rocked her for a bit, but when they stopped, she got him rocking herself.

She has an amazing seat and pretty good hands for someone who is only two and has only had a couple of pony rides before. I'm seriously impressed!

Still negotiating with her parents about posting a photo of a grinning Giggles having a ride. We'll have to see.

Later, she was playing with other presents and had a toy brush. She went and brushed Troy's tail. Cute. Then she gave her plastic toy llama a ride. That was so sweet I could have eaten her all up.

All the boys (the various uncles) kept on asking my Beloved about the project and complimenting him on the job. He was very good at explaining that I'd done the carving, staining and painting. I was starting to get a bit peeved (although he had done a fantastic job of the laminating, sawing and all the joints required).

Will we be going into rocking horse production any time soon?

... I don't think so.

Chance that we are not relieved that this project is finished?

... Approximately None!

Wild Thing!

Got to go and take the dog to his great-grandparents', ice my slice and pack the car.

But I thought you might be interested.


Anyone have curling tongs so that I can bend his hair down?

The chance that there won't be better photos after the weekend?

... Approximately None!

A Horse for Giggles: Part 8

Nearly there.

Troy has had his second of three top coats of paint today. Tomorrow he will get the last.

He now has the rods bent and in through the rails between his feet. Bit of a hicup with the way we were planning to attach the rods to the stand, though. Worked really well (he was rocking beautifully) until the point where weight was applied to Troy, when the attachy thingies entirely gave way, leaving a bit of a divot in the top of the stand.

My Beloved believes that he has solved this problem. I hope so. I'm not certain when we'll get the opportunity to test it out prior to Saturday due to needing to let the paint dry. It's probably okay, Giggles weighs a lot less than me.

I finished the saddle today. The webbing for stirrup leathers and girth had to be singed so that it wouldn't fray. My wonderful Dad bung a nail into his soldering iron for me so that I could do this to all the holes and cut edges. My wonderful Mum had some serious press-studs that help keep the saddle's 'ears' down over where the stirrups attach.

It has a few wobbly spots up close, but it does really look like a saddle. And any equestrians please note that I have run the stirrups up the leathers properly. Attention to detail is my motto. No slack habits in this household!


So that leaves me with the saddle cloth; glueing of mane, tail and forelock; and one final coat of paint. My Beloved has to paint up the new attachy thingies, and put the four screws that hold the saddle into poor Troy's belly.

Then we have a little engraved plaque to attach. I got it done at a local jeweller's and it has Giggles' name, her birthdate, the fact that it is from Grandma, Grandad, Uncle Beloved and Aunty Jenny and that Uncle Beloved and Aunty Jenny made it for her with much love (I thought that "with love" was better than "with blood, sweat, tears, unbelievably disgusting smells and an occasional word that we wouldn't be allowed to use in front of you". It wouldn't have fit on the plaque, and would have cost a packet on a per character engraving basis).

Tomorrow. The last day for work. It is possible.

How much am I going to miss this project?

... You got that right!

Why I wouldn't trust latex for anything important...

Yesterday, when I was staining Troy, I remembered that I have disposable gloves in the house. I didn't want a repeat of last week's grotty hand, so I donned the gloves and merrily stained away secure in the knowledge that the stained layer of latex could be removed when the job was finished.

Now, people trust every day that latex is going to save them from having babies or from nasty diseases. I've decided that I don't.

For one thing, you never know that it has failed you until the final outcome is obvious.


Can you tell me which fingers of the gloves had holes in them?

And, boy, do I wish that the answer to that question was

... Approximately None!

A Horse for Giggles: Part 7

The mega-project is still on-going and we are leaving for the coast on Friday for Giggles' birthday party on Saturday.

It is still looking possible that we will be finished on time, but the timeframes are getting quite tight. So many little bits of projects that will hopefully all come together in the next few days.

It was a big weekend.

Saddlery the easy way?

Oh, for goodness sake just take it to a saddler! Who wants to be fiddling around with this the weekend before? It's nearly finished now, just a few finishing touches before I can show you the final product.

While I was upstairs doing that, my Beloved was downstairs doing this:-

Boxy, but beautiful (hey, wasn't that a Volvo advertisement some years ago?).

Finally, a whole horse!

Then there was lots of sanding and carving and we killed the little Ozito sanding machine. It sparked, then died. Troy, you were just too much for a little sanding machine.

I do know, though, that Troy can take my whole weight. It would be interesting to have a visual record of some of the positions I've needed to get at different bits of this timber horse for sanding or carving or painting. Today's post could have been entitled "Musings from beneath a timber horse". But I decided that the world did not need to see a record of the inane things I think about when I'm staining timber.

After today's staining and first top coat efforts. Thanks for the help, Mum.

He came up shiny and luminous and gorgeous.

Tomorrow he is off to get the swinging rods put on, followed by a second coat of paint.

How many coats of paint do I want to have to put on on Friday?

... Approximately None!

(But I'm likely to be glueing in his mane, tail, and forelock)

A Horse for Giggles: Part 6

The deadline is looming. We've been madly using every spare minute to get Troy finished. We go to the coast in 9 days' time.

I'm just hoping the final coat of paint will be dry.

And it doesn't feel like we're getting very far. So many things need working out or drying time or we need to do something else first.

Thank goodness for the Queen's Birthday Holiday next Monday.

I can prove that I've been doing things, though -

Jen, remember that you have disposable gloves in the cupboard.

Of course, there was another job where it would have been really good to remember that I had disposable gloves in the cupboard. Remember these? -

Now, if the average person has to wash their hands six times in scented soap to get rid of the smell, how often does an average person have to wash the hair to get rid of the smell?

I can't actually remember. Lots.

To get the last of the chaff out of them I had to condition them, comb them thoroughly, let them dry and then comb them again. Then check to see if they passed the sniff test. Any last remaining little specks were then considered to be 'clean dirt' due to the number of times they'd been soaped, rinsed, conditioned and brushed at.

Here's one batch hanging up to dry on the laundry spout. I think I only have six paper clips left that haven't been bent into hooks to hang up hair to dry. Good thing I work from home, or I wouldn't have had enough.

I didn't have enough rubber bands, but Dad works from home too, so we got by.

Dad, do you want your rubber bands back when I've finished with them?

Why ever not?

This was one of the longest of the tails. You would never have guessed that it was this colour when it came in.

Of course, it isn't that colour anymore. I got at it with the hair dye.

I made certain it was a dye that covers gray.

It did.

Here is all my hair lined up. The big pile in the foreground are the longest and thickest ones that are designated as 'tail'. The next ones back are designated 'forelock', and the others are lined up longest to shortest for the mane.

(Is it freaky that I still have the original box for my sewing machine, which was new back in 1985? It's my Mother's fault - it started off as hers and she kept the box because we lived out west and it had to be shipped in for servicing. Of course, I've had the machine now for about 10 years and have no such excuse.)

I stitched the tails to cotton tape.

I didn't use them all.

I really regret the fact that I de-clodified more tails than I needed.

And washed more tails than I needed.

And conditioned and brushed more tails than I needed.

And dyed more tails than I needed.

There is no way I'm throwing them out.

I'm still experimenting with options for glueing the ends in so that the individual hairs can't be pulled out. Silicone didn't quite cut it. We'll see how an actual glue goes, but I want something that will stay flexible enough to be inserted into a slit in Troy's neck.

I am running out of time to conduct clinical trials on different products.

Chance that I'm going to let this deadline beat me?

... Approximately None!

A Horse for Giggles: Part 5 or so

Okay, so I've done a dumb thing. I've forgotten that Blogger uploads photos in the reverse order to the way they were selected. And it won't let me change them. *Sigh*

So here is the whole point of this post, which I was going to save for last. Isn't it the cutest thing you have ever seen?


Yes, Troy is still headless, which does make it easier to take him to Mum and Dad's because my sewing machine is playing up and I needed to fit the bridle to make certain it was going to work.

I think it is even cuter when it is hanging about. It makes a jangly sound just like a real bridle, but doesn't smell as good because I've used vinyl, not leather. I'm so proud of me for getting the bridle made in a way that means it can be taken off and put on. A wooden horse's ears don't squish down to allow this to happen without some jiggery-pokery. But it works!

My Beloved managed to bend the ends of the wire around the rings to make the bit. Spectacular!

These are the saddle bits waiting for Troy's body to be finished, so that I can fit everything as I go. I had so much fun in the saddlery, picking out the bits I needed.

Then I had to pay for them.

So how much work did I achieve this afternoon?

... Approximately None.

You asked for it...

Some of my commenters wanted photos.

I didn't actually post the photos because by the end of yesterday I was so grossed out that I couldn't look at them and I didn't think anyone else would want to either.

So please stop reading now if you don't want to look at photos.

I should tell you that there were some tails that the abattoir blokes had cleaned up for me (which is lovely of them to have done when I wasn't being charged for them), but the truck driver didn't know that he was supposed to pick up tails and they went feral (or should that be more feral?). So I got these 'fresh' ones.

I meant it - I'm going to post the photos.

I didn't take many because once my hands were dirty there was no way I was going to touch my camera, but these are what I have.

After the first rinse and swish. I'm sort of sorry I can't embed the overpowering smell to go with these. Believe me the experience is missing something (thankfully).


A close up, trying to show the cloddy matter I was dealing with:-


My very brave mother helped with the first rinse:-

Numerous rinses and an hour of combing and cutting later, this is what they are like this morning. All the icky bits are double bagged and binned:

I still need to wash them again. Probably will put lots of conditioner in and comb them through to get the last bits of chaff out. Then I'm going to get some hair dye (one that covers grey) and try to make them all black. Then I have to attach them to the tape. This should be interesting.

So when you discover that it costs one hundred dollars to get real horse hair it is worth it. There is a reason that it is expensive. Either pay up the bucks or go with the knitting cotton option.

The chance that anything in life is free?

... Approximately None. This mane and tail were very dearly bought.

And on a related matter it seems tentatively possible that the scent of soap and hand cream has masked the smell of manure.

Life Here at the Feed Lot

Today I did the most disgusting job I have ever had to do.

Greater love has no aunt than that she would try to source real-looking hair for her niece's rockinghorse.

My tail hair was ready to be picked up today. The butcher told Mum yesterday that my ox tails would be ready today. Mum was a bit perplexed as the butchers always have ox tail bones for soup on hand in winter. She only got back from the Kimberleys the day before and hadn't caught up on my blog.

I went to pick them up (and happened to have Mum in the car) we brought them home and dumped them into the laundry tubs.

The tail hair of the bovine creature starts above the end of the skin and bone that makes up the tail. The butchers had kindly given me a generous portion of tail so that I could harvest as much hair as possible.

There were also clods of manure stuck to much of the hair. Mum and I gave a quick rinse, then left them to soak. Unfortunately I didn't close the laundry door while we were in there, and the smell was starting to permeate the rest of the house. Pure, unadulterated feed lot smell. I closed the door and opened every window in the house that I could think of at that point, then Mum and I went onto the other thing we were working on.

After a while I couldn't smell it anymore and was hoping that the house was clear of it, rather than that my nose had lost all ability to smell. Mum informed me that it was the latter. Great.

Later I came back into the house and went downstairs to deal with them. You've heard of smells that could knock you over? I opened the laundry door and was almost knocked to the floor. I spent the better part of an hour combing (never using that comb again) out quantities of cloddy matter and cutting (never using those scissors again) the usable hair off the tails and securing the good hair with rubber bands.

By the time that was done I felt putrid. I had a meeting to go to and decided that a shower and total change of clothes was more important than lunch (I didn't have time for both). I bathed, changed clothes, showered (including washing my hair) and went to the meeting.

I had decided to wash my hair and totally change every stitch of clothing because I didn't want to be in a meeting, still smelling that rich feedlot smell, and thinking that it was in anyway possible that it wasn't psycological.

So I felt clean. Until I was offered a cuppa and biscuit when I realised that my hands STILL SMELLED OF MANURE. Every time I raised the cup or the bickie, I could smell it. In fact I can still smell it now. It's never coming off.

This had better be worth it.

The chances that this doesn't beat any possible parenting gross-me-out story?

... Approximately None.

Such a story would have to involve faecal matter and blood in hair and cutting through strips of flesh with blunt scissors. Oh, and SMELL! You can't win.

What did the sandpaper ever do to you?

What was the chance that the LBD would not get into mischief left in the garage by himself with nothing to do?

... Approximately None.

PS the sandpaper was left on a shelf - not that I thought it would be a target.

A Horse for Giggles: Part 4

There are reasons that I haven't been blogging.

I've been trying to get some work done and eliminate stuff of the whiteboard that sits at my right hand. Getting there. Very slowly.

Yesterday was a crazy-busy day.

On Sunday we went to Brisbane to celebrate the dedication of friends' fourth child. Lovely occasion, and good to catch up with them, their friends and relations.

But the biggest reason that I haven't been blogging has been Troy. I spent Saturday sanding. To the point that by the end of Saturday I could no longer focus my eyes (I have a convergence problem that is worse when I'm tired) and tripped up the stairs, nearly sending Troy's almost finished head crashing to the floor ears first. Which would have been a disaster because I'm fairly certain the ears would have snapped off.


My Beloved bought me a present:-



Yes, I am working at a desk made up of a shelf on top on a drum, but this is about the little ozito sander that is wonderful. It has made the sanding go a heap faster, because it can get into most of the little nooks and crannies that the belt sander couldn't. It doesn't leave flat patches, either.

My Beloved spent most of his day making this happen:-

At least he had something to show for his day's work. It now "only" needs sanding - my job, if I have time (but won't it be so much easier now?).

Then we have an oh-so-close-to-finished head. A little more work to do by hand between his ears and under his chin before he can be attached to an as-yet-unconstructed body (although the boards have been cut):-

He really doesn't look much better in this photo than the last one I posted. But there's hours and hours of sanding work happened between now and then. You'll just have to take my word for it that he looks better. He's much smoother. Believe me.

You remember these legs?

Is there much difference between what they looked like before and now that they have been shaped and sanded?

Again, you are going to have to take my word for it. They now have a little shape around the knees and fetlocks. They just need checking out and attaching to the body:-

I've asked the butcher about getting cow tail hair (probably more likely steer tails, come to think of it), he'll get back to me, but doesn't see a problem as they usually only incinerate the bits that they can't use. He'll even see if they can get the longer ones, if possible. I love having a real butcher that actually have their own abattoir and know me, so they'll actually listen to my odd requests.

So for now, after yet another Troy-related post, let's hope that I am boring you all...

... Approximately None!

A Horse for Giggles: Part 3

There is dust over everything in the garage, including the car.

This is because I've been using machinery. Sanding-type machinery.

And when I haven't been using machinery, I've been sanding by hand the bits that are too fiddly to get at with anything mechanical.

I've realised that I hugely understated the case in my last Troy-related post when I mentioned that his head was finished, apart from "only the sanding to go".

I've now basically shaped the legs (with a belt sander so there won't be as much sanding required. I hope.) and have about half the head sanding done. The difference that is shown in photos between what these look like now and the last lot of photos posted is approximately none, so I haven't included any just yet.

Meanwhile my Beloved has been working on the stand that Troy will swing from. So far we have:-

The bit that sits on the floor and the bit that Troy will swing from.


Miscellaneous rails and bits that will join and reinforce the two bits in the photo above, as well as the rails that will be joined to Troy's legs and will be connected to the swinging rods.


And yesterday my one indulgence with respect to the fit-out arrived. I managed to track down a source for rockinghorse stirrups. Aren't they the cutest little darling things? My Beloved's size 11 boots make them look ridiculously tiny!

And I was given a hint by the lady at the Post Office when I went to collect the stirrups that if I go to a local butcher (that kill their own meat) I should be able to get cows tail hair for free, instead of paying a hundred dollars for real horse hair (or the knitting cotton option that I was actually planning due to the hideous price of the aforementioned real horse hair). I figure that people hair dye should work on it to get it black, although I'm not certain about how to stitch it to tape so that the strands don't pull out. Anyone done any wig making?

So things are happening slowly, and I'm just wondering what the calorific intake is on sawdust. I mainly use a mask, but I can still taste the stuff when I've finished.

How much do I wish to dwell on how far we have to go in the next month?

... Approximately None!

A Horse for Giggles: Part 2

There were those who commented that the recent photos I posted made me look very attractive. I personally thought they emphasised that I always look pretty much the same across the years.

So I thought for fairness sake that I should post a less flattering shot of myself. Fortunately I had just the right photo after about a day and a half this weekend sitting in my parent's garage and madly carving at a horse's head.


Martian or creature from the Black Lagoon? (Can you tell I'm smiling?)


And this was what I was doing. My Dad let me use his Dremel which made the carving a whole lot easier for the fine detail stage. Most of the major shaping was done with either a rasp or a sanding disk.


I was a bit concerned about the fine detail. I've often drawn pictures of horses, but only in two dimensions. And the photos in my horse books are also in two dimensions.

Unfortunately sculpture (by it's very nature) is three dimensional. So I had to do the best I could without a live subject to copy. It would probably be a bit excessive to buy a horse simply to finish a woodworking project. I ended up with three good photos (of different horses!). One from front-on, one side-on and one three quarters.

I was still incredibly worried about the eyes. Hours of hard work could be stuffed up entirely by a slip of the Dremel.

And here are a few shots of the end product. There's only sanding left to go, and I'm very happy with how he's turned out.

The chance that Giggles is going to actually get this present at all?

... Approximately None - I'm getting a little attached to him.

I accidentally named him.

And talk to him while I'm working.

Alot.

And pat him.

And take him for trips to Toowoomba to meet people (when he's not even finished yet).

The chance that I don't have a few issues?

... You guessed it!

A Horse for Giggles: Part 1

Just like misery, hippomania likes company.








And in our family it is in the genes - so it is very fitting that Aunty Jenny feed, encourage and give every opportunity for Giggles' latent horse-loving gene to flourish.







I started with a Happy 0th Birthday present that included a soft rattley toy in the shape of a horse's head. Then tried to teach her to say "Daddy, can have a horsey please" from about the age of 3 months. Daddy would always counter with, "I think Aunty Jenny would love to buy you a horsey," so that might have back-fired a little.








Anyway, when I was a child I always wanted a rocking horse. A proper rocking horse like you see in period movies in some mansion in Georgian England. You know, with the stand and the horse swung from it. *Sigh* My repressed childhood.









Okay, so I got to have real horses for a few years while we were out west. The rocking horse would have been a much cheaper option, but Mum & Dad provided the Real Thing. This possibly downgrades the level of repression I can claim for my childhood - but I've never been one to let the facts get in the way of a good story.








So because I always wanted a rocking horse it becomes essential to give one to my niece Giggles (who is showing every sign of early hippomania - just like Aunty Jenny).








I found a book on wooden toys (that belongs to my Beloved who started out life as a carpenter).








I looked at the sizes and decided that it needed to be a bit bigger so that a child could sit in the right place, not precariously balanced on the rump - I'm not going to be responsible for Giggles having an incorrect seat on a horse.







So we scaled up the plans to get enough room for a child to sit and have a little growing room. It might have ended up a little bigger than anticipated. And this is the story up to now (and the reason that blogging has been a little short on for the last few days):-



Plans in progress. Trying to make certain everything was in proportion. It answered my question that the head they had in the book was just the wrong size, but I had scaled it down too much - so I made a few changes. The body shown was only a spacer, not the full width in case you're wondering about the poor thing's nutrition (or lack thereof).




The LBD is happy to help in any way he can.

Working title at this point should probably be "Blockhead". My Beloved laminated multiple boards together to get a piece thick enough for his head. Definitely a job for him, not me.

My very clever Beloved then uses a jig saw to block out the basic shape. Another job for him.







Then it's back to me and my rusty, I mean trusty, rasp - trying to get the basic shaping for the neck and head. I've got a little further than this now, but not looking forward to eyes, nose and ears - all of which are detailed and difficult. Every horse book I possess is scattered around the house.




First we had one leg...




Then we had fore legs (one more to go - oh the bad pun)...

Final leg is marked out, my Beloved will probably cut it out after work today.

So we're living in a house littered with dismembered horse limbs and much, much more work to do before the deadline (Giggles' birthday) in the middle of June.

Chance that it gets done on time?

... Approximately None - NOOOOOO!!!!!!!!

A Little About the Wedding

My Cousin, whose real name shall go un-mentioned (save to say that she is named after old coinage, or one of my favourite classical heroines) got hitched on Saturday and it was a lovely day.

Bridesmaids - elegant

Bride - radiant (I'd love to post a couple of photos, but that wouldn't be fair as the bridal couple are away and haven't had a chance to share their own photos yet)

Groom - appeared just the right proportion of nervous and excited

Rain - held off until the end of the evening, but it was a little muggy for most of the day.

Family & Friends - had a great time - pity the bride and groom couldn't enjoy it as much due to photos and having so many people to catch up with.

I haven't asked anyone if I can share their photos in the den of vice that is the internet, but here are a few shots to fill you in...

My Beloved, looking a little less like Nicholas Cage than he did on Givinya's Blog at the virtual birthday party she threw for me a couple of weeks ago.

The reason he doesn't often appear is that he just doesn't photograph well - he pulls faces - hence the fact that the best of the photos is this one when he didn't know it was being taken. He has the kindest eyes of any man I've ever met.

My very pretty mother who helped me sew. Thanks, Mum.

You can tell that she'd stopped talking in order to be photographed. If she'd been talking her hands would be flying around, not folded neatly in front of her.

Mum and I wearing the results of our labours.

The chance that Mum would let me steal her skirt to add to my wardrobe?

... Approximately None!

But that's probably okay, given that you can almost certainly guess the chances of it fitting me!