Cost Analysis

There often seems to be a misconception that people who are smart are good at everything. Or that they are specifically good at maths*. I am smart. I don't know my IQ - though I'm curious about it, I don't know that it would make any difference to my life to know it - but, I am smart. I could not have passed the test to get into the high school I attended unless my IQ were fairly high. However, I am not good at maths. I've never made any secret of this. The 34% I scored on my end of high school maths corroborates this. I'm actually surprised I did that well.

Generally, this does not make a huge impact on my every day life. I keep my sums for figuring out skirt proportions so I don't have to re-do the maths, I have lists of formulas I might need for various things so I don't have to figure them out. Most of my recipes require only simple doubling or halving if theres maths involved at all.

But this morning, I had no idea what I needed.

As my husband pointed out, this looks like scrambled eggs. Believe me, its butter.

I made butter. My curiosity overcame me. I needed maths.

A 500g package of butter costs between $2.69 and $3.15 depending on where I buy it. Cream costs $4.01 for 600ml. That alone tells me making butter is not cost effective, theres no way you can get 500g of butter from 600ml of cream, but I enjoy making butter, and was curious so see just how expensive it is**.

IF my maths is correct - and that is a big 'if' - it would cost me around $8 to make 500g of butter. Two-and-a-half to three times the cost of buying butter. Of course, this would also give me around 500ml of buttermilk, but I have no idea the value of buttermilk, as buttermilk in stores is cultured milk rather than the liquid left from making butter. We would use buttermilk - I would use it to replace water or milk in my baking - but its not something we would ever buy. Which leaves me with $8 butter. There are people who spend that much on butter - in fact I can easily find butter at the supermarket that costs more than that - but I'm not one of them.

I keep hoping my maths is wrong. This is a distinct possibility. But I've started on fresh paper 3 times so I would be less likely to contaminate my answers (this way I stare at my base numbers and panic for a while then try to figure out how to get to an answer instead of just putting the numbers into the same formulas and hoping my multiplication is correct - much more likely to be doing it right if I keep getting the same answer when starting from scratch), and keep arriving at the same amount. Fun as it is, making butter is not cost effective. Unless we develop a taste for buttermilk.





Gosh its fun though.



(Why was I making butter if its so darn expensive? We needed cream for dinner the other night. I only needed a small carton. They only had large cartons in the store. I decided I'd rather have fun making butter than go to a different store to get the correct amount of cream.)



*Yes, yes, Australians say 'maths' instead of 'math'. I have arguments with my husband about it all the time.

**Another thought, if manufacturers can afford to sell us butter at that cost, that is a huge markup on cream. HUGE.

Squee!!!(?)

My mother bought it second hand before I was born (I think? Sometimes I get my facts mixed up). A quick internet search indicates its probably somewhere between 36 and 42 years old. It's heavy as a very heavy thing and is the only machine I remember my mum using until I was about 15. She made everything from play clothes to swimwear to ball gowns to rag dolls to curtains on it.

It still has a bunch of cams and bobbins in the storage box under the arm, and the blue carry case fits around the arm to create a larger working area.

I haven't got the foggiest idea how to use it, and it doesn't have a manual.

The Elna SU 62c.. my newest conundrum. (I will be asking for lessons next time mum's in town, and writing down everything. Also searching online for a manual.)

Definition of an argument

To my son, who seems to delight in making me angry first thing in the morning,

If I say "stop arguing with me", the correct response is not "I'm NOOOOT!!!"

Even if by some crazy chance I was lying/mishearing/just wanted to be mean, telling me that you aren't arguing when I've said you are, is arguing, especially in that tone of voice.

If I ask you if you want do something, you have a choice, provided you have a good reason for the choice you make. If I tell you to do something (its time to put the dishes away please; you need to go brush your teeth now; tidy up, its bed time), unless you are bleeding, vomiting, or on fire, it is not up for discussion. You may ask if you can finish something else first, but you do not get to tell me that you're just going to do xyz first, and you definitely do not get to tell me that you flat out won't.

If I say you can't go next door to play because you've just had a bath and dinner will be ready in 10minutes, that does not mean that whining and complaining and getting angry with me will miraculously change my mind. It does mean you will be sent to your room instead of being allowed to play inside until dinner.

When I have told you to hurry up every 10 minutes for the past hour because you are being very slow and you will be late for the bus, you are absolutely not allowed to say that I should have told you to move faster, and get angry because you are running late.

I am your mother. I've been around a lot longer than you, I know more than you, and I know what's best for you.

Stop arguing with me.

Normally I would just facebook annoyances like this, but I'm sick of the grandparents saying 'oh the poor thing, he's just a boy.' He's eight. He's smart. This rule is reinforced at least three times a week. There is no way he can possibly not understand. And I'm sick of it.

You will be returned to your regularly scheduled cheese and nonsense tomorrow.

Small Bits of Knit.

Probably the biggest problem I have in fitting clothes is my bust. The darts I have to make are huge, and I have not yet figured out how to tame knits. But I persevere, because RTW clothes fit even worse than what I can cobble together. Which is annoying, because I often find tops I really like, but which Just. Don't. Work.

When Boyo was little, I found one such top. A thin, slubby knit, with three-quarter sleeves, and a surplice front. I was having a great deal of trouble at that point finding anything I wanted to wear, so when I spotted this top, in my size, I bought 4 - in white, teal, green, and purple.

That was probably a mistake.

The underbust seam ran right through my bust, and the neckline had to be pinned together, and have a singlet worn under in order to be decent. They were cut off grain, so the side seams twisted every time I wore them. Not only that, because of my bust, if I stood up straight the hem was about 3 inches higher in front that in the back, and showed my belly. I developed quite a slouch to compensate. My shoulders do not thank me now.

Eventually I gave up wearing them, but I loved the fabric so much I couldn't bear to throw them out. Which was handy when I discovered that Mini didn't have anything to wear with her new skirt.

Making Mini's top was harder than I expected. She has a cute little t-shirt with cut-on sleeves that I wanted to replicate, so I traced around it, adding a little to the length and the side seams to accomodate the fact that she grows like a weed, and making the sleeves just a touch longer. And then I discovered that there wasn't enough fabric in my old top to make Mini's t-shirt, because mine was cut so badly off-grain. I could have cut Mini's along the same grain as the old shirt, but I really wanted it to be on grain. (I didn't think to take pictures, but the slubs act like a kind of stripe, making the grain more visible, and they were at about a 30* angle, rather than parallel to the floor. BAD.)

A present from Nana over a year ago. Definitely starting to be a little on the small side, but not hideously so yet.

In the end I had to turn Mini's top into a surplice front as well. The bottom section of her front was cut from the old front of mine, and the two top halves were cut from the sleeves. There was not enough fabric to cut the binding for the neckline in one piece, so each section was cut separately - right, left, and front - and simply carefully matched when sewing the sections together. I would have much preferred to  sew the fronts to the back along the shoulders and then attach the binding, but with the binding in three pieces, this would have left too many seams to match up, and probably too much bulk in odd places.

Simple, right? Gave me so much trouble!!!

And after the cutting, the fun began.

Finding enough usable fabric to actually cut it out had taken so long and been so frustrating, that I couldn't bear the thought of sewing it twice - on the sewing machine and then again on the overlocker to finish the seams - so I decided to just use the overlocker, using the sewing machine only for the hem.

This would have been fine, except that the shirt is white, and I had bright red thread on the overlocker from my silk blouse. If it had been blue or green, I would have left it, adding another fun co-ordinating detail to match the skirt, but since I was going to have to change the thread out, I figured I might as well change it to white so the shirt would go with anything.

I should have just left the red in.

I managed to attach all the binding to the necklines, and do one shoulder seam. On the second shoulder seam, one of the looper threads snapped 2/3 of the way along. Guess which looper thread. If you guessed 'the one which is almost impossible to thread because you have to stick your fingers in the impossible to reach places under the machine and besides if you don't thread it just right it will only snap again instantly', you win a cookie. You can make the cookie yourself, I'm all cooked out at the moment.

I rethreaded that machine so many times I lost count. 3 hours later I declared to all of facebook that I was ready to throw the machine out the window and then smash it to pieces with a sledgehammer, if not for the fact that it technically belongs to my mother.

I undid all four threads and threaded it from scratch - no tie-the-new-one-on-and-pull-it-through, I had to go get tweezers. I tried threading it in a different order from what it instructed. I said screw it and tried using just three threads. All the while getting more and more stressed out, which made my hands shake more and more, which made threading it all the more difficult, which increased my stress levels, which increased my tremor, which made threading it more and more difficult.. It was not a pleasant day.

Not bad, considering how bad the fabric was to start with, and how much I had to keep handling it.

The next day turned to the interwebs, in order to try to figure out how I was threading it wrong. No dice. I was doing exactly the right thing. I tried using a different thread, thinking maybe mum's old overlocker thread was just damaged. Nope. Loosened the tension. Nope. Loosened ALL the tensions. NOPE. I even changed the needles, which didn't work, because the new ones were too short. (??!!!!!!!!!!) So I changed them back again. And suddenly, miraculously, it started to work. I stuffed with that machine for about 7 hours (including internet searching time), and all I had to do was take the needles out and shove them back in again?????

I still have no idea what made it return to functionality, but I'm terrified to change the thread again.

In the end Mini's shirt was finished, and its fairly cute. If I make another one (am I willing to brave the overlocker again???) I'll make the sleeve openings a little bigger, and would probably go with a proper t-shirt shape rather than the surplice neckline (though if I use my other shirts I'll probably have to do it anyway because of the stupid grain issues), but the cut-on sleeves are cute, and Mini loves it. And its cheaper than buying her t-shirts, which is a definite plus.

Mini turned 4 last week. She doesn't look like a baby any more. :(

At least I remembered to make his lunch today..

.. cause its been one of those mornings.
You know, the ones that start off with the oldest child telling the youngest in his rudest, bossiest voice; "mummy SAID, its TIME. TO GET. UP." and getting angry with you when you tell him he is not ever, under any circumstances, allowed to talk to anyone in that tone of voice. (But you said its time to get up, AND SHE WASN'T GETTING UP!)
The mornings that involve children misinterpreting or 'not understanding' every single thing you tell them. ('Why is my tie so short!!' 'Maybe you should start tieing it here, further up.' 'What do you MEAN further up?!!!!!!!!!!!)
The mornings where the small one cries all the way to the bus stop because her jacket is not zipped up, because she never asked for it to be zipped up, preferring to just cry because you can't read her mind. (And its not even really cold enough to be wearing a jacket.)
The mornings where everything you say to the children is met with attitude, and/or anger, and/or tears, and you seriously contemplate running away. (Every day you have to put the dishes away, its not like I sprung it on you out of nowhere, quit glaring at me or you'll be washing them, too. No, you obviously did not look everywhere for your shoes, they're right there on top of your skirt, 5 inches away from your feet, stop crying already.)
The mornings when you say screw it, and decide to have nutella for breakfast, because at least it will be something nice at the start of your day, but when you go to pour yourself a nice, huge, cold glass of milk to wash it down, you discover that THERE IS NO BLEEPING MILK!!!!
I am so glad its a school day.

Froth

Theres a skirt I've been working on for Mini for.. well.. close to 2 years I think.. Its been so long, I'm not actually sure when I started it. Regardless, I finished it. Finally.

While she'll gleefully play Star Wars or Killer Insects or all number of other 'boy' things with her brother, she is also terribly fond of giant frilly skirts, so thats what I made her - on the lower end of giant and frilly. Even back when I started it and she was barely 2, her eyes lit up like stars when she saw frothy clothes, which she would insist on wearing while reenacting all sorts of violent car crashes with Boyo's Hotwheels (or dressed as a pirate). The girl will not be stereotyped*. Good on her**.

The floral print came from the remnants bin at Spotlight. I have no idea what it is - I'm assuming a poly-cotton of some sort - but there was enough for a simple gathered skirt for a Mini-sized person. All I did was trim one of the two cut edges to be straight and gather to fit the waistband, which I made from some broadcloth in a matching blue, then trim the other end to an appropriate length. There was not much left. I'm still considering using it to add pockets. Mini loves pockets. The single back seam is the selvages sewn together. The bottom ruffle is made from the same blue broadcloth, three strips sewn together at the selvages with a decorative stitch, and gathered to fit. Since this skirt was Froth, I decided to go all out and did the stitching on the blue broadcloth in white - so it stood out more. The topstitching on the floral where the ruffle is attached is done in a blue that matched the broadcloth almost exactly. A fortuitous find from the Box of Thread.

The lining was made from some semi-sheer white cotton I had lying around, folded in half and gathered along the fold to fit the waistband - again, selvages for the back seam. Just as with the ruffle on the skirt, three strips were sewn together at the selvages and gathered to fit the bottom of one layer of the lining. Then I got fancy and did some hand sewing on the enclosed seam there. The blue and green thread match the blue and green in the floral almost perfectly. This is likely never to bee seen, but it made me happy doing it, and it makes me smile when I catch sight of it while laundering the skirt. The second layer of lining, closest to her legs, has no embellishment. No ruffles, just a simple hem.

The waistband has buttonhole elastic in it - I love this stuff. Unfortunately - and this is one of the reasons the skirt took so long to make, I did everything in the wrong order and threw it in the corner in a huff when I couldn't figure out how to make everything work - I sewed the elastic all the way to the ends of the waistband, and couldn't buttonhole through them for the back closure. I ended up having to cut a slit through four layers of cloth and one layer of buttonhole elastic (using a combination of seam ripper and two pairs of scissors), and do the buttonhole by hand. I am ever grateful for my collection of embroidery thread. As usual I made the buttonhole too big, but some creative stitching made it smaller. The waistband is sewn on by hand so as to have NO visible stitching. Theres a placket at the back seam made from the floral, but only a button on the waistband. I hate putting tiny zips in, and with a placket and such a fluffy skirt, theres really no need for more buttons to keep it closed. Nothing shows through.

Predictably, Mini loved it. When I was finishing sewing on the button, she stood next to me nervously and said "Oh mummy, can that one be mine now? It is soooo berteeful." I will miss words like 'berteeful' as she grows up.

The only problem with a brand new blue-and-white skirt is that she didn't have any shirts to wear with it. I made one, but I haven't got any pictures yet. No fear, it caused me enough problems it warrants a post of its own.

In the past week I also finished a shirt I made for myself, using some of the red silk from my free stash addition.

I used the same base pattern I made for my Christmas dress two years ago (I know, I know, I never showed last years, I'll get to it. Photos need to happen), which I also used for my button back shirt. I changed the neckline, and decided to try kimono sleeves. I also did all the hems by hand, so they're minimally visible from the outside. Its red. Its red. I feel so strange wearing red. But its also comfortable.

Oh my its comfortable. The problem with the buttonback shirt has always been that I don't actually need to undo the buttons to take it off and on, but they tend to like popping open on their own when I'm out and about (and so, next time I wash it, I'm going to make the buttons decorative). I didn't want to have that problem again, so I ignored any sort of openings on this red one.This gave me the added advantage of being able to have a huge back neckline facing without a split down the middle, which means I can be ridiculous:

Why yes, I am embroidering a flower on the facing of a shirt where no-one but me will ever see it. Its a Eustoma (Lisianthus) in case you were wondering. Its one of my favourite flowers, and looked easier to do than a Carnation.

My embroidery skillz leave a lot to be desired (have I ever done this before? NO! I'm absolutely making it up as I go. I really need to get a small embroidery hoop if I'm going to make this a regular addition to my clothes, floppy fabric is difficult to work with), but this is not about Looking Awesome, its about making me smile. And having a flower embroidered on the inside of my shirt will definitely make me smile. I'm almost finished the white on the flower now, then all I have to do is add some green and we'll be done!

Now, I know I've already made this post far too long, but there is one more piece of news I have to share. On the first day of December last year, we brought home this:

The dog, not the child. His name is Dusty. He is incredibly sweet. He also doesn't appear to be stupid. We're still working on jumping on people (he's also ENTHUSIASTIC ABOUT THE PEOPLE OMG LOVE PEOPLE), but he learned in less than a week that he won't get his food unless he sits patiently. Which is good, cause its hard to put a bowl of food down when you're being jumped on by a very enthusiastic puppy. He's somewhere around 5.5 to 6 months old, he lost the last of his pointy front baby teeth 2-3 weeks ago. I am so glad I've stopped finding teeth all over the yard and in his bed.

We got him from a pet rescue place, he and his litter mates had been born at a tip. We were told one of the parents was a German Shepherd and the other was suspected to be an Akita, and apart from the fact that he's a lot more slightly built than either breed (he's tall, but not solid by any means), we can totally see that. He's very Shepherd coloured with the black and tan, and he has very Shepherd ears, but the markings on his face are definitely Akita style, and he doesn't have a Shepherd saddle by any stretch of the imagination. That being said, he also looks suspiciously like a Shepherd coloured Dingo.

He doesn't bark (WOOT!!!) and while he is SO ENTHUSIASTIC about people and jumping on people and licking people and people people people people people, he's also happy to just sleep on the outdoor table. Or the chairs if he can't get to the table. Preferably there would be a person on the table who he could sit on. He wants to be a lap dog. He also paces patiently at the back door if he needs to go outside. Which is great, but it would be easier if he made a noise so we didn't have to keep following him around.

Apparently he'd also like to audition for the part of Dead Duck In A Butcher Shop. I'm not sure how that can be comfortable.

We waited over a year after my cat died to get another pet, and I'm glad we did. Dusty is the perfect fit for us. Mini is still nervous of him, he is a bit too jumpy and far too enthusiastic about nibbling hands, but he's young, and she's young. And now they can grow up together.





**Takes after her mother. My soundtrack for the embroidery has so far been Andrew WK, Metallica, Brahms, Bush, and Korn. Dichotomy FTW.

*I have a boy and a girl. We already had so many toys that we didn't really bother with getting her 'girl' stuff when she came along, and she has grown up playing with her brothers toys, and with her brother - who is four-an-a-half years older. I've also observed the children of numerous friends, some with all boys, some with all girls, some with a mix. Regardless of the toys they use, girls DO play differently than boys. There is something in built in them. This does not mean they should be given nothing but stereotypically girl stuff, while boys get given nothing but stereotypically boy stuff. They will find a way to play their own way no matter what they are given to play with.
We also let the children pick their own clothes, to a certain extent. He chooses dinosaurs and astronauts and skulls, she chooses frills. And frills. And flowers. And butterflies. I am not girly. I am not frilly. I would rather see her in shorts and a t-shirt, or frill-less dresses. But I won't try to stop her being herself unless her choices are wildly inappropriate.