Going Off Half-Baked

My name's Megan and I'm a blogger. It's been ten days since my last post.

But what a ten days. The kids finishing their school year seems to bring so much drama with it. Getting reports, cleaning out the layers of detritus from their school bags (for which I am grateful for some archaeology knowledge), going through all the school clothes and all the school books. And getting ready for Christmas. There were presents to buy and presents to finish making and baking to do. So much baking. And in the midst of that all the usual, boring things, like grocery shopping and cooking and doing the washing. Bleah.

Somehow, in all that, time for quietly drawing or painting got shunted back in the schedule (and blogging went right out the window).

Baking. Every year I go a little crazy making gingerbread. I love gingerbread, and ginger cake. And I love making things out of gingerbread. The whole house smells of gingerbread for days on end. It greets you when you walk in the door and wafts you off to sleep at night. Just heaven.

It started with houses. I have been making houses for a number of years. They are fun and versatile and when the kids were little they used to love decorating, although I think that had a lot to do with scoffing sweets as they worked. Houses were made for family and friends and we would have a great time making each look different. We'd change the biscuits and other decorations out the front. But inside was always the same - biscuits with the names of each of the recipients, as a little surprise when the roof was finally taken off.

Then last year the Son up the ante. "We always do houses. They're fun. But can you make a TARDIS?" said with the definite tone of throwing down the gauntlet. So I put my mind to it and came up with this (note the small size of the Cybermen and Daleks) :

Gingerbread TARDIS, 2013

There was one for us and one for some friends who love Dr Who. And then there were several houses as well. Inside the houses were the usual biscuits with names. Insides the TARDISs were biscuits done like Seals of Rasalon with names on the back. I was quite pleased with how it came out.

Gingerbread Seal of Rasalon, 2014

So this year I thought, more TARDISs, why not? I made TARDISs for some school friends and their families, with Seals inside, and larger Daleks outside. They were more to scale, but it did mean two figures per structure. Four was too cluttered.

Gingerbread TARDIS 2014

Looking at it now, my piping could have been better. Don't know what was wrong with me there. The Daleks (and cybermen) are just made with a template I draw each year, which will always mean that no two years will be alike. I also found this year that Smarties make a perfect top to the TARDIS light. Which enables me to colour-code each one. Otherwise, once the lid's on I have trouble remembering which one is for which family.

There was also a sleigh. I used a mold, which I haven't done before. It needs rethinking. I was happy with the sleigh, but the two reindeer had to go. They looked like they'd been hanging around the king of Goblin Town. Not good. I shall cogitate and experiment (there is still some dough left in the freezer). Might make templates for them and see if that works better. Or make them in the mold but with chocolate rather than dough. Needs work. This was the first time I had made something without testing it first. Just trusted the thing I had bought. Sorry, Cate. I owe you two reindeer.

Anyway, Son threw down the gauntlet again this year. "You've made TARDISs. They're good. But what about a Dalek? Like, a 3D one?" Ooookay.

So I went through the process I adopted for the houses years ago and for the TARDIS last year. Lots of thinking. Draw plans based on images from the Doctor Who Technical Manual. Build out of cardboard to perfect template. Build prototype from gingerbread. Look at it, pick faults, iron out kinks, revise, think.

And this was the result:

Gingerbread Dalek Travel Machine, 2014

There were problems. Snapping the panel above the gun and plunger was a big one. The dome needed perfecting. But I think jelly baby heads make perfect lights. On the whole, however, it worked. And the scale is Jaffa scale.

I made another one for a friend and her family. And the Son came up with the great idea of putting an actual dalek inside. Did you know, if you chop up and melt jelly snakes they become a glorious slimey mess? And almost impossible to clean off teaspoons? The Dalek came out okay, and caused a "ewww" reaction, which was the desired effect. But I have since had ideas on improvements. This is, as always, an ongoing process. And sometime I shall have to make a Doctor gingerbread man. After all, he often says he wants to be ginger.

So after all the panic and rush, Christmas was done. I love that people loved their gingerbread. I love that we still have our prototype to eat. But I am really pleased to sit down, to get off my feet, to read and draw at leisure.

And I am NOT showing this to my Son:

In closing, here's a little something for all of you who, like me, need to relax a little now Christmas is done. In! Calm! Out! Relax!

A Jolt to The System

Sorry it is such a long time between posts, but this is a busy time of year. I'm writing this in between baking and finishing presents and helping the kids wrap up the school year. This is the last year in primary school for the Son, and today is his last day. So it's something of a big deal, for him and for me.

In the midst of all this there hasn't been much time for non-Christmas creation. Although I didn't get my Christmas cards finished (but at least I now have a head start on next year's). The house is looking nice and Christmassy, the windows are gradually being covered with Star Wars snowflakes (they're fun). Through Your Eyes on Christmas Eve, which is usually our go-to album for Christmas (because it is fabulous) is having to compete with Nomad, but in a day or so I shall make us stick to Christmas music (leading, no doubt to a Nomad explosion on Boxing Day). The baking started a few days ago, and I am taking advantage of the strangely cool weather to get a crack on with it.

Christmas was not a happy time when I was growing up. Bits of it were, but on the whole, no. So I love making it happy for my children. My parents-in-law have the right idea - remove as much stress from proceedings as possible so that everyone can have a good time. Cook as much beforehand, go for salads, cold meats, etc (which makes sense in our climate) and make clean-up as quick and easy as possible. And everyone helps out. That way there's more time for fun and frivolity.

The children are working on making presents and have also been saving their pocket money so that bought presents come from them. The Steamgoth particularly is coming up trumps in the making department. She is going to be an artistic force to be reckoned with.

Most of the stuff I have been doing I can't discuss because some of the recipients read this blog (I think). But there is one thing, as it has already been given.

One of the sillier things I do, but which my kids love, is modifying NERF guns. I'm not great at it, I need more practice frankly, but I'm getting there. And I am good at NERF repairs (which reminds me, I need to take my repair kit to my friend's house. I promised her sons ages ago I'd have a look at their NERFs.

Son's class do Secret Santa. This is a great idea and really cuts down on school Christmas expenses. Everyone writes out a slip of paper with their name and interests. The teacher then gives them out so everyone has someone they get a present for. Limit is $5-$10. You get a present, wrap it with the recipient's name but not yours, and sneak it under the tree in the classroom. The Son drew a girl in the class who likes "rainbows and weapons". So I got asked to modify a gun, but without rainbows.

We went and got a Jolt. This is the smallest NERF and costs $5. It also packs a real punch. I learnt the hard way to not remove the air baffles. With the baffles the Jolt fires hard (hence its name) and makes a pleasant thock sound when fired. Without the baffles the Jolt hurts and makes an unpleasant snap sound when fired. Some guns, such as the old Maverick, perform better without the baffles. Not the Jolt.

The Jolt, as it comes

What I have done with it doesn't actually constitute a mod. It's really just a new paint job. And before you ask, all my guns have names. My modded Jolt in called Minnie (as in Minerva), this one is Lily. It is missing its brand plate (just realised - too late) - HMA Firearms and Munitions. There's a whole story to that. One day I will write it up.

Lily. Unfortunately the bullets still look the same

I wanted a really Chrome paint for the cartridge handle. Still looking for that (at least this paint is more silvery than it appears in the photo). The copper barrel isn't bad. I am looking into "gilding" parts of the guns in future. We'll see how that works out. The Son liked the finished product, and the recipient loved it, so that's the important thing.

There's so much Christmas music I could put on this (and I am seriously running out of time to put any up). But I thought, silly post, so silly music, so you get this...

Zat You, Santa Claus?

I've been getting a lot of drawing done, but there's nothing ready to show yet (that's the trouble with working on several things at once). So instead I will do something appropriate to the season and write about Father Christmas. And show some old fruits of labour.

In Bangladesh 25 December is a national holiday because it is the birthday of Rabrindranath Tagore, the famous poet. The Tiger of Bengal. He wrote a lot about Indian independence (he also wrote about love and other things. His poetry is worth finding and reading). He was also a playwright, composer, painter, essayist and novelist. So, my first bearded fellow at Christmas was this man. I think I got off to a flying start.

Rabindranath Tagore, 1861-1941

My first actual encounter with Father Christmas was in Port Moresby, PNG, when I was about 23 months old. Yes, I do remember this (my earliest memory is at about 14 months, but that's another story). He was an old, slightly overweight PNG man with a VERY bright, highly patterned shirt and a short, white, curly beard. He was accompanied by a number of PNG ladies and they were all on the back of a flat bed truck. I don't think I knew what "Santa Claus" meant or entailed, but I knew he was it.

The next year my mother took my elder sister, my baby brother and me to the local shopping centre to have our Christmas photo done. The photo is one of those "mixed bag" ones. Sister is happy enough, Brother is a babe in arms (only two months old) and I am furious and tearful. Because this fat white guy with the huge beard was not Santa Claus and I was having none of it. Wrong outfit, wrong beard, wrong colour. No, no, no! I suspect there was foot stamping involved (I should ask Mum for the photo so I can scan it). The next year, and all subsequent were fine, but that year... no. Not at all.

Shopping Centre Santas are their own mixed bag. Some are lovely and knowledgeable and really have the children believing. Others, while sweet, are not so convincing. If you want to be a Shopping Centre Santa it is best to not live under a rock.

I have always had my children's photos done at David Jones. Great service, great photos with a good range of packages and prices so you do not have to bankrupt yourself. Generally good Santas. Except for one year.

Every year I make (or now offer to make) a new outfit for my children. For the Steamgoth a dress (often worn two years running, the first year floor length, the next mid-calf. Her choice. Smart girl), for Son a shirt (he wanted the same one four years running, so that was easy).

When Son was three he made his most extravagant demand (he has never topped it, although last year's cammo gear was interesting). He wanted to be the pilot of Thunderbird 2, which meant dressing like Virgil Tracy. 

I am not one for putting photos of my children on the web, but I'll make an exception this time because this photo is so old, and he is so cute, and I am so proud of the damned costume.

The new pilot of Thunderbird 2

Everything is made by me, except the gun. The boots, the hat, the sash, the belt and holster, the uniform. The badges on the sash and hat were painted with fabric paint and then appliqued. We still have this. I don't care how big Son gets, I am never giving this away.

When you take kids for Christmas photos mums look and coo (or appraise), dads ignore. Not this time. We had guys in their 20s and 30s stop us and ask where the uniform came from. One guy walked backwards in front of us to get a better look. Son thought this was all marvellous. And then we got to Father Christmas.

And the silly man asked "who are you meant to be?" and when son looked shocked and told him, he said "Who?" Like I said, if you want to be a Shopping Centre Santa, don't live under a rock. At the age of three I had to have that talk with my son. You know, the one where you explain that these guys are all just helpers because the real one is flat out getting everything ready, but don't worry, he gets all the messages.

The local Westfield has told the local David Jones (inside the local Westfield) that they can't have a Santa this year because it competes with the Centre one. So we will be going down to Sydney to the big DJs in the centre of town. Raspberries with knobs on to Westfield. The Steamgoth has declared she is NOT coming. She is "too old". And there is nothing I can do or say to change her mind (I have tried).

Laser Claus, Megan Hitchens, watercolour pencil on paper, 2013. He wants a word with Westfield Tuggerah

To finish up, have you ever really listened to the words of "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town"? The guy is  a creepy stalker. Doubt me? Listen to it in a minor key, then tell me I'm wrong. (That's my drawing, by the way (Fat Man, watercolour pencil on paper, 2013). I couldn't resist after I heard this version).

On the Ball

Tomorrow is the Year 6 Farewell dinner at the local Golf Club. When I was at school there was a school disco and the principal stood up at the last assembly in the year and said goodbye to us all. That was it. Now, there's the farewell dinner, a farewell pool party, the assembly, and on the last day the rest of the school forms a guard of honour at the gates (that's actually quite funny, watching the Year 6 kids trying to get under the arms of the kindergartners).

My baby will be finishing primary school.

Lots of people are pitching in (it's a public school, we're not flush with cash). Decorations and special place mats have been made, I've spruced up the banner and written out place cards. Parents will be decorating the room at the club on the day (not me, sorry, that banner was more than enough). Everyone pulling together, which is as it should be.

Son loves his teacher. Miss Casamento is lovely, but she is also a great educator. She has a tough class (the Opportunity Class (gifted) - pack of smart arses, including my boy), but she keeps them in line and motivated and interested, and learning all sorts of things. There are two OC classes, the kids have the same teacher for both years 5 and 6, and the two classes, next door to each other, interact a fair bit. So when Son asked me to make a temari for Miss Casamento, he also asked for one for Miss Garland, the other OC teacher. To be given at the farewell.

Remember temari? I made one for Mrs Dawes, our deputy principal, when she retired.

It was a simple thing for Son to ask both women for their favourite colours. Then he and I went through all my temari books looking for just the right designs. I swear he bookmarked about twenty. I deliberately did not say "Let's look on online too". We'd still be choosing.

After several days he settled on one for each.

I made Miss Garland's first because my boy was still deciding thread colours for Miss Casamento's.

This is wrapped in red thread, divided with gold into a C8 (see the other post) and then the pattern is built up by stitching interlocking large and small squares. That's right. Squares. The triangles appear as you go. I had to unpull it once because I mistranslated something in the instructions (if I had looked more closely at the photos I would have realised my mistake). Then I had to unpull it again because there are two ways to stitch the large squares, and I chose the wrong way (again, photo, dur). But it came out alright in the end.

By the time it was done, Son had finalised the colours for the second one. A dusty pink and white. I suggested a touch of light green, but he was adamant.

The mari was wrapped in dusty pink thread (it's fairly dark in tone) and then simply divided into twelve, like segmenting an orange. All those petals are achieved by first stitching zig zags from the pole to midway to the equator on alternating spokes (repeat once so all spokes are done) and then stitching spindle shapes on each spoke over the equator. Repeat till finished. The equator is then wrapped in an obi (basically a belt made of wrapped threads) and that's it. It is a simple pattern, but it takes a lot longer to stitch than the red one.

And if you are wondering about the cushion, that's a zabuton, or little mattress. I have a few of these in my temari box. The colours were perfect, so Son snaffled it.

So that's it. Now I have to find something else for the evenings (too warm for knitting at the moment).

Christmas music. I meant to start this yesterday, but I forgot it was 1 December (despite stressing about the Christmas tree and the cats). Still, better late than never. (And don't roll your eyes, listen. Great version)