Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Tabbies!


Tabby satchels have been surprisingly popular since I started making them, and I've had many requests especially for custom ones. I've been intrigued to observe though, that while I offer customers pretty much free rein with regard to colours and prints, they invariably choose the same fabrics they see in my shop pictures, or some combination thereof. So I thought I'd make some ready-to-ship ones using different fabrics, just to give people some idea that Tabby really does like colour :)

sea
This Tabby features a grey seaweed print, with a happy pop of bright pink and tangerine for the lining and strap.

sea
An additional cute thing is the inner pocket, which is made of linen printed with Parisian landmarks -- I like the unexpected bits of blue and turquoise.

paris
This Tabby is made of an adorable Parisian park-printed linen.

paris
There is an entire market scene on the other side, complete with poodle, Dior-style outfit and flower stand.

Seaweed and Parisian Tabbies are available here and here :)

Monday, January 28, 2013

Saturday, January 26, 2013

Sylvanian Chronicles

Becky's been writing a sort of serialised story about her Sylvanians, and yesterday she posted her latest installment on her blog. I couldn't help giggling a little when I read it, so I thought I'd share it with you (as you know I'd once said I'd occasionally do :)

It's a great way to get kids interested in reading and writing I think, but as I don't let mine have more than 20 minutes a day on the computer (if at all), B has to do most of her writing the old-fashioned way -- with pencil and paper!

* * * * * * *

There was a lot of excitement because at last the Sylvanians had caught the intruder! It was a big orange cat from the Outside World! Everyone noticed that the orange cat was shivering. It did not look well or happy. Mr Owl went to get Matron from the sick bay just in case it fainted or something.

cat1a

Everyone let Mr Walnut Cat speak to it, because after all, he is also a cat. "We have caught you at last," he said sternly. It was the voice he always used when he was scolding the kids, which they hated. "You have been stealing our food and doing goodness knows what else. That is very naughty indeed. But now that we've caught you, you had better tell us who you are".

cat2a

And this was what the orange cat did when it heard Mr Walnut Cat's scoldy voice. Immediately, everyone went "Awww". Matron said, "Poor thing, you're shivering with cold and you look very hungry. I think you have a bit of a temperature too. Come to the sick bay and rest. You can have some cookies and hot chocolate and in the morning when you feel better you can tell us all about yourself".

cat3a

So everyone led the orange cat up to the sick bay. Only Hester Honeyfox was there and she was already asleep. She had been having her usual sniffly nose from smelling too many flowers. Mr Owl said he would stay up with Matron to watch the orange cat since he usually didn't sleep at night anyway. Matron was glad to have him around to chat to. Staying up alone all night could be pretty boring.

They gave the orange cat some hot chocolate and put it to bed. It seemed to be really exhausted by everything that had happened, and did not even want any cookies. It lay down in bed with a grateful sigh and was soon purring in its sleep. "The poor thing is worn out," whispered Matron to Mr Owl. "What an interesting life it must lead". Mr Owl nodded and stared at the cat in that way owls do. "I wonder what we'll find out tomorrow!" he said.

What do you think is in store for the Sylvanians and their strange intruder? Stay tuned to find out!

P.S. I've put all the chapters of this story together here in case you missed any part! Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4. See you again soon!

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

go ahead and say it



"Toe-tappin' goodness, wonderful sentiment, and what a cutie!"

Thursday, January 17, 2013

on being thankful to have children at all

sisters
Love 'em.

If there's one thing about being pregnant, in my corner of the world at least, it's being subject to this preoccupation with, or emphasis on, the importance of having sons. Every single person who's spoken to me -- outside of my immediate family -- has said something along the lines of, "Hope this time it's a boy!" Yesterday evening I had to bring Ro to the GP, and the nurse there went, "If it's a boy, it'll be perfect!" Which of course it would be, but not any more than if it were a girl. Yet the distinct implication was that it would be rather a blow if we did have another daughter.

I'll never forget how, when I was pregnant with Ro, this lady came up and asked if the baby were a boy or a girl. When I said (with a smile, mind) that it was a girl, she actually stroked my back comfortingly, saying, "Never mind, you can still try for a boy next time". I was so incredulous that I could only stammer out, "But we're perfectly fine that it's a girl!" It probably sounded like a pathetic attempt to make the best of an unfortunate situation. And then, on learning I have two daughters, people would feel free, perhaps even justified, to tell me, nay, admonish me, to "try for a boy".

Well obviously, I would never dream of ever being disappointed in my girls, and, as it turns out, Rebecca loves having a sister; the girls share and do things together that I don't think could happen in quite the same way between a boy and girl. I have friends and relatives whose children are one of each, and they don't seem to have quite the same dynamism in their relationships. I guess in some ways there is truth to that "Men are from Mars, women are from Venus" idea -- boy and girls are perhaps fundamentally different; they're interested in different things; they communicate differently and approach the world in different ways. And then of course, if you were one of those girls who had sexist parents who always preferred your brother...

Clearly, we are fine with either a boy or a girl -- they are both blessings from God, good and perfect gifts from above -- but I must admit to being a little tired of people everywhere making these senseless sexist remarks. Even people in their 20s and 30s -- whom I consider young and therefore somehow above these archaic, prejudiced notions -- tell me that "hopefully, it's a boy this time!"; they even tell me that I must be hoping it's a boy. Like, ??!

My husband tried to explain that it has something to do with the Chinese character for "good", which looks like it is made up of the characters for "girl" and "boy", or "female" and "male". So it's something about how, together, they bring happiness and good fortune, but then you know how I feel about superstition!

Of course, I know it also has to do with the fact that boys are historically seen to be of more use on the family farm, or in the family business -- an idea I can appreciate if we were still labouring on our plantation, but which I'm not so sure about now in a developed society where women outpace men in college degrees and perform equally well in management.

Then, there's the perpetuation of the family name, that prevention of the extinction of the family line. To me this just seems to be another weird sexist attitude which has somehow prevailed -- the idea that a man's family and name simply must be preserved -- and that through another man -- as though they were somehow inherently superior. Many women have as much reason to be proud of their historical and cultural backgrounds, which I suppose is one reason there is increasing social acceptance of women keeping their maiden names and even passing them on to their children. We don't seem to have quite shed the doctrine of coverture, in force in the 19th century and much of the 20th, under which a married woman did not have a separate legal existence from her husband.

Funnily enough, it seems that perhaps this predilection for boys may not necessarily be a Chinese or even an Asian thing (sex-selective abortion in India, for instance) -- I remember reading an article last year about a Gallup poll finding that more Americans would prefer a boy rather than a girl if they were only allowed to have one child (it goes without saying what most Chinese would say!). What was especially interesting to me was that the results of that survey were very similar to those found when the same question was asked of Americans in 1941, and that those results stayed pretty much the same over the intervening years (the same poll was taken 10 times since 1941).

I'm no expert, but I can't help wondering about the discrimination and sexism that this sort of thinking reflects, even in our so-called modern, forward-thinking society. The fact is, gender preference does reflect an active depreciation of women, does it not? I recently got through all the episodes of The Tudors, and couldn't help marvelling at how we haven't come very far from Natalie Dormer's Anne Boleyn sobbing when she learnt that she'd delivered a girl, or Jonathan Rhys Meyers' Henry's ecstatic exclamation of, "I have a son!"

Well, the Chinese New Year is fast approaching, and the traditional get-togethers are prime occasions for more of these pointless remarks -- I'll either launch into a diatribe on sexism and the oppression of women, or just smile and shrug. Hm...

Thursday, January 10, 2013



I've mentioned this site before, but it's so much more fun when shared with Graham Norton and Ewan McGregor :)

Sunday, January 6, 2013

thoughts while bedbound

master
Sick as a dog, or, Master Bedroom, by Andrew Wyeth

Whenever I am bedbound like this -- and let me say that whenever I have been bedbound like this it's been for the same reason!! -- I think of Amanda in Enid Blyton's Last Term at Malory Towers. Amanda was a big, strong girl who had come to Malory Towers because her old school had been destroyed in a fire. Trenigan Towers had been famous for sports, and Amanda was so good at them that she realistically expected to go in for the Olympic Games.

Well, in her pride and self-confidence, she decides to go for a swim in the sea one day, which the girls are actually forbidden to because of the strong currents. Eventually, her strength is no match for the pounding waves, and she is flung onto the rocks, which badly injure her. She is rescued of course -- we can't have anything too tragic in an Enid Blyton school story! -- but it is the end of her Olympic dreams.

"[Matron] left Amanda for an afternoon sleep. But Amanda didn't sleep. She lay thinking. What long long thoughts come to those in bed, ill and in pain! Amanda sorted a lot of things out during the time she was ill".

Well, I've been having lots of "long long thoughts" these few weeks. How true it is that time flies when you're having fun, and how true it is in reverse! The minutes and hours and days pass so slowly, I am literally counting them. Nausea clearly numbers among the worst of physical sensations -- draining, debilitating and depressing; irrationally, I find myself resenting that "command post" for nausea and vomiting which is apparently located in the brain stem.

Morning sickness is described in my pregnancy bible as "pure misery", and I keep looking at those words -- the same way I did twice before! -- and thinking, Amen!!! You can say that again! And again. And again. And again. What is the point of feeling like this, I wonder, when pregnancy should be as natural as breathing? Who even came up with that stupid name "morning sickness"?? It should be called all day sickness, or just plain sickness.

The weather has been an oppressive 30, 31 degrees daily. It is a drag seeing the kids go out during their school holidays with everyone except me. It is a drag not being able to participate in setting up the Christmas tree or do any Christmas shopping at all. Instead, I spend my time looking out the window, or at my toes, mentally dissecting the word nausea and noticing how closely it's tied to the word disgust. I start thinking I find both words equally revolting, as well as other words like vomit, acid, and oily.

I don't understand why women have to go through this -- being nauseated to the point where you don't feel like eating anything, or puking to the point where you keep nothing down, when surely now is one of those times when proper nutrients are even more vital than usual.

Here is a list of things I have been able to keep down in small (read tiny) quantities:
- Jammy toast (every. single. day).
- Strawberry milk
- Yogurt
- Instant noodles
- Fruit cocktail (does this count as fruit?)
- Tums (I'm pretty certain this does not count as food)
- Skittles (nor this)

Here is a list of things which sounded so good in theory, but which refused to stay down:
- Apples
- Melon
- Saltines
- Fish porridge
- Orange juice

Looking over these lists, I don't know how I can agree with the scientists who propound the "evolutionary" theory of pregnancy sickness, which explains the nausea and vomiting as being necessary for the mother to avoid such foods as meat and strong-tasting vegetables, which historically may contain harmful toxins and microorganisms.

And then, to top it all off, my cousin comes to see me a couple of times, and takes the opportunity on each occasion to make such useful remarks as, "Ask God why women have to go through this". As if I needed that added to my feelings! Clearly, God isn't going to give me the answer to such a question, the sort that has plagued philosophers and scholars since the beginning of time.

I don't know why ok?! I can only press on in faith, trusting to God's inherent goodness, and the fact that His plans are for my welfare and not my harm, however I may feel at this particular space in time. Ultimately, I know of course that this too shall pass. I think anyone who's going through anything can rest assured of that.

Well, If there's one thing that I've developed since actively striving to walk closer with God, it's a watch over my mouth. Unlike the miserable, complaining mess I was when I was puking for seven weeks straight with Rebecca, I now refuse to let anything negative come out of my mouth.

With Becky, I remember ranting and raving at my mother on the phone after having had an especially disgusting time at the toilet bowl; gratitude for all my blessings -- including a husband and daughters who help in every way they can -- has since made a slightly wiser woman of me. However crappy I feel now, I refuse to say, or even think, anything pessimistic or self-pitying. I've learnt over the years that it simply does no good, and now is one of those times where I pray hard throughout the day to keep that in mind. "Tomorrow will be better" I say to Becky at the end of each day (which is now at a very praiseworthy 9pm!).

"Death and life are in the power of the tongue: and they that love it shall eat the fruit thereof". And, "In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you". I don't know why God lets women -- and apparently no other mammals! -- go through this, but speaking for myself, I believe God is using it to teach me patience, humility, fortitude, an even temper, and yes -- a sense of humour.

* I wrote this intermittently in bed between weeks 7 to 11 (with a pencil and paper no less!); I'm now happily back to eating my beloved apples and broccoli, praise the Lord. I am at present under the verge of puking -- as opposed to being on the verge (or just plain puking) -- which I consider a wonderful improvement. Tomorrow will be better, and the day after even more so...

Friday, December 21, 2012

Hello dear friends, how have you been? Thank you all so very much for your kind words; they really meant a lot to me. I'm still not quite 100%, but am very, very much better, thank the Lord. I expect to be fully back in the saddle very soon; in the meantime, here is a little Christmas song for you in celebration of this beautiful season, extracted from B's Christmas musical this year (she was the angel who got to announce Jesus' birth hee hee). I love that it captures the real meaning of Christmas. I pray that the Lord bless each and every one of you, and that you have a lovely close to this year, filled with joyful expectancy of a blessed, peaceful one ahead.

Friday, November 16, 2012

blog

*** Hello dear friends -- thank you so much again for your good wishes. I am still under the weather, and shall also be away till mid-December, with little or no access to a computer, so the shop (and blog) will be taking a little break till then. I trust to catch up with all of you in time for Christmas, and wish you a peaceful, blessed season in the meantime :) ***

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

eh sexy lady

Well, up until like, yesterday, I must have been one of the few people on the planet who didn't know what the heck this thing was all about. But when everyone's doing it at the husband's company dinner, and the kids go around humming the refrain, and one's own mother line dances to it, you think, hm, maybe I should find out once and for all.

So now I have, and am sharing it with all of you who were either as clueless as I was, or who just need a little giggle today. Beautiful, lovable, yes you, hey, yes you!


According to Wiki, "the phrase 'Gangnam Style' is a Korean neologism that refers to a lifestyle associated with the Gangnam District of Seoul". The singer, PSY, has said, "People who are actually from Gangnam never proclaim that they are -- it's only the posers and wannabes that put on these airs and say that they are 'Gangnam Style' -- so this song is actually poking fun at those kinds of people who are trying so hard to be something that they're not.

"The song talks about 'the perfect girlfriend who knows when to be refined and when to get wild'. The song's refrain, 'Oppan Gangnam style', has been translated as 'Big brother is Gangnam style', with PSY referring to himself; 'Oppa' is a Korean expression used by females to refer to an older male friend or older brother. He studied hard to find something new and stayed up late for about 30 nights to come up with the 'Gangnam Style' dance. Along the way, he had tested various 'cheesy' animal-inspired dance moves with his choreographer, including panda and kangaroo moves, before settling for the horse trot, which involves pretending to ride a horse, alternately holding the reins and spinning a lasso, and moving into a legs-shuffling side gallop" (sourced from Wiki).

Sunday, November 11, 2012

Thursday, November 8, 2012

eye candy

Because I still feel crappy, and not up to much of anything else.

ec2
Clockwise from top left:
Jim Sturgess, Jude Law, Daniel Day-Lewis, Jonathan Rhys Meyers, Ben Barnes, 
and Jeremy Renner

Have a super lovely rest of the week.

Saturday, November 3, 2012

on eating happy

Salma
O, Puss.

Thank you so much to all of you who left me such kind, sweet messages, or emailed me with your good wishes -- it meant a lot to me! I'm not feeling 100% yet, but I know by God's grace, I soon will!

In the meantime, I wanted to share with you something I read while lolling about in bed. It's a Daily Telegraph article on Oscar-nominated actress Salma Hayek. Now I'm not a particularly huge fan of hers or anything (and I'm not mad about her when she's literally busting out of some barely-there outfit), but I've always found her very attractive, and I've quite enjoyed the odd films I've seen her in, like Frida, Fools Rush In, and yes, Puss in Boots (ok, well, she wasn't literally in that).

Well, if there's one thing Salma Hayek's known for, it's being curvaceous, and the article, Go forth and munch, is about just that. Dietary debates aside, I love the spunk and self-confidence, the wonderful joie de vivre she expresses here with such warmth:

"For most Hollywood actresses, strict diets and punishing exercise regimes are the order of the day. But Salma Hayek has proved the exception by proudly extolling the merits of being "chubby", saying that eating fattening food is the best way to keep looking young".

"I am on the limit of chubbiness because I love my food and my wine. It's not the best for fashion, but it's good for my mood," said the Mexican-born actress.

"I am happy because I eat. I am 46 -- I will not have Botox. You know why? Because I eat! I eat the fat, I eat the vegetables, I eat everything.

"If you exercise too much and you don't eat enough, it takes its toll on the skin. Everything starts ageing. And you know what? You look miserable."... "The truth is, I just don't have the drive to be the prettiest and the thinnest. I can be happy for other people for their beauty. Learn to be happy for others and you can never run out of happiness"...

"[She] is a critic of the fashion industry's use of stick-thin models. She said: "In recent years, we have had to fight against our genetic nature to look like something we are not, to look like little boys."

"Of her career, she said: "It's a miracle that I'm still working... the worst thing you can be in Hollywood is a woman and over 40.

"On top of that, I have an accent, am dyslexic, short and chubby. You name it, I have it, but here I am".

Have a spunky, inspired weekend everyone!

Wednesday, October 31, 2012

blog

*** The shop (and blog) is on a little hiatus while I endure enjoy the mother of all colds. Purchases and custom orders may still be placed as usual (I have already shipped all orders prior to today): Ready-to-ship goodies are, well, ready to ship; please allow an extra week for the making of made-to-order goodies. Thank you so much, and have a super lovely rest of the week! ***

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

Sunday, October 28, 2012

not quite screamfest

I thought I'd share a couple of movie recommendations -- just in time for Halloween! Be warned though, they're not run-of-the-mill Scream/Poltergeist fare; you sort of have to watch closely and pay attention haha..

So, first up -- From Time to Time. This haunting British film is set in the 1940s, and is about a 13-year-old boy who uncovers long-buried family secrets when he goes to stay with his grandmother. The cinematography is beautiful, and the story both charming and poignant -- something the whole family (well, 8 and above maybe) can watch together by firelight.



(In a moment of sorrowful candour, Maggie Smith's character Mrs Oldknow tells her grandson, "If you have children, don't ever quarrel with them. No matter the reason, no matter how angry you get -- don't quarrel. I promise you -- it's never worth it". Like I said, poignant).

Next -- another British film, this time called Haunted. Set in the late 1920s, the story is about an American professor who gets invited to Edbrook House to investigate the alleged hauntings there. While the storyline is mildly cliched, the cinematography is gorgeous, as are Aidan Quinn's brilliant blue eyes. Be advised though, there are some adult themes and a bit of nudity too, so keep it 18-and-up please!


For goodness' sakes, don't watch this bit in its entirety. I couldn't embed part 1, so just copy and paste this video's title in the YouTube search box, and change the number to 1/11.

What ghostly films do you recommend this All Hallows' Eve? :)

Friday, October 26, 2012

on nurturing nature

klimt1
Mother and Child, by Gustav Klimt

So, my dear cousin has been listening to these psychology lectures in his car; the other day, he comes in and tells me, "Parents actually have very little influence on how their children turn out -- it's just in the genes". He tells me this with great confidence, presumably because Dr So-and-so said it, which somehow gives it "scientific" credence.

Now, we've had these discussions on psychology before; I'd done it in university, and had previously told him quite frankly that it was fine for some generalisations, but really that's all it is -- generalisations. I don't feel that there's that same objectivity and universality with psychology as there is with say, chemistry or physics. Trying to create principles that apply to all individuals and groups is, to me, impossible; humans are just too complex and diverse, as are their personal lives, experiences, beliefs, circumstances. And really, how many people could one possibly study, and for how long?

This idea that genes may be what influence personality and that parents don't really matter, came into prominence when a certain Judith Rich Harris published her book, The Nurture Assumption, some 14 years ago, in which, summarily speaking, she claims that parental influence is minor; whatever our peers do to us outweigh, in the long run, whatever our parents do (Ms Harris, by the way, was a textbook writer, with no doctorate or academic affiliation).

"[Harris] looks at studies which claim to show the influence of the parental environment and claims that most fail to control for genetic influences. For example, if aggressive parents are more likely to have aggressive children, this is not necessarily evidence of parental example".

Further, "Harris' most innovative idea was to look outside the family and to point at the peer group as an important shaper of the child's psyche" (I do not find this an especially profound or groundbreaking idea). However, "contrary to some reports, Harris did not claim that 'parents don't matter'. The book did not cover cases of abuse and neglect. Harris pointed out that parents have a role in selecting their children's peer group, especially in the early years. Parents also affect the child's behavior within the home environment and the interpersonal relationship between child and parent" (extracted from Wiki).

Dr Frank Farley of Temple University eloquently put into words what my immediate thoughts on all this was, namely that "she's taking an extreme position based on a limited set of data. Her thesis is absurd on its face, but consider what might happen if parents believe this stuff!"

Dr Wendy Williams, a professor at Cornell, said, "There are many, many good studies that show parents affect how children turn out in both cognitive abilities and behaviour" (extracted from Wiki, italics mine).

Naturally, however, there are supporters of Ms Harris' great insights, as there are critics. What I wonder is, with all the glaring, physical evidence of the effects of child neglect and abuse, why does anyone even want to propound something that goes against all the noblest principles of parenting at its best, and that has the potential to further encourage parenting at its worst?

While I do not discount the effects of a child's innate qualities on his or her personality, I do not accept that it's these inborn, genetic factors that determine how that child will turn out, or that they outweigh the importance of loving, nurturing, responsible parenting. Child neglect and abuse are on the rise, and without fail, parental personality and behaviour are cited as one of the major risk factors. To suggest that those neglected or abused children would turn out crappily even if their parents were nurturing and responsible, simply because they're inherently crappy people, is profoundly annoying to me.

However, it seems that Ms Harris "rejected the idea that her book would encourage parents to neglect or mistreat their children. She maintains that parents will continue to treat their children well 'for the same reason you are nice to your friends and your partner, even though you have no hopes of molding their character' (extracted from Wiki).

Well, I don't know about you, but I do not "treat my children well" for the same reason I'm nice to my friends. I do not feel responsible for my friends' behaviour and morals, for their sense of self-worth, and for the values, habits and attitudes with which they will live their lives and which they will pass on to their children.

Of course, I can't help vaguely wondering about Ms Harris' own kids, or the kids of those who support her views. Ms Harris, at any rate, has two children, one of whom was adopted. The biological child, Nomi, was, according to Ms Harris, quiet and well-behaved; she was, apparently, just like her biological parents, and "gave us no trouble while she was growing up".

The adopted child Elaine, on the other hand, was different. "She always wanted to be with people. We started getting bad reports from the school right away -- that she wouldn't sit in her chair, and she was bothering other kids... As the girls got older, Nomi became a brain and Elaine became a dropout. Nomi was a member of a very small clique of intellectual kids, and Elaine was a member of the delinquent subgroup".

When you have a parent who describes you like that, you have to wonder if it truly was because you were a genetically hopeless case, or because, having intrinsically different -- but not necessarily bad -- traits, your parent just didn't spend the time and effort needed to develop your talents and abilities to the full.

There was a study known as the Colorado Adoption Project, in which, for a mere seven years, researchers "followed" the lives of 245 adopted children, giving them and their adoptive parents personality and intelligence tests at regular intervals. The conclusion they reached from this supposedly vast, all-encompassing study was that "the only reason we are like our parents is that we share their genes".

Besides the fact that I believe all psychological studies are limited and subjective, I don't believe good parenting is about making our children similar to ourselves -- indeed, it is often hoped that they don't become like us -- it is about harnessing their innate qualities and turning them to positive, productive account. That is why I think good, present parenting does matter.

While one child may be innately shy and the other gregarious, as a parent I am responsible for instilling the right values and attitudes in both of them, sound principles and beliefs that will then dictate their behaviour, and which are not so weak as to be squashed by any peer pressure they may encounter.

Obviously, peers do have an impact on one's life, but I believe the degree of that impact is dependent on the amount of time they spend with those peers, and the fundamental value system they've acquired at home. In fact, I believe it is those values they learn at home that are what will influence the peers they choose to interact with.

For me personally, I can honestly say that the kind of person I was as a child and am now, is almost entirely due to how I was treated at home, the behaviours I saw, and the words I heard. My peers growing up had, in fact, very little influence over me then, and certainly none at all now. I have known and witnessed enough of the effects of parental nurturing and attention, as well as cruelty and neglect, in both my own life and the lives of my relatives and friends, to know how valuable responsible, accessible parenting is -- it is what greatly influenced my decision to give up my corporate career in favour of full-time motherhood.

"Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it" (Prov 22:6).

If you've ever done psychology in school, or ever read a paper on some theory, how often did you think, "Well, that sure didn't apply to me" or "That wasn't what happened in my niece's case, or my son's case, or my neighbour's kid's case"? There simply are no universal behavioural laws, and I find it irresponsible to propound theories that ultimately have no positive purpose.

Instead, they serve to bolster the views of people like my cousin and his friends who happily leave their kids in the care of maids and strangers all day, every day (interestingly, I recall a study done in 2011 by scientists from the US and Netherlands which found that "genes may contribute to a child's bad behaviour, but only when parents are distant; parental monitoring -- how well a parent knows what’s going on in their child’s life -- was key").

I found this person's response to an article on Ms Harris that appeared in Scientific American particularly eloquent: "There is no substitute for good parenting. I am a teacher and see this every day. If you see a problem student, 99% of the time, you have to look no farther than the parent... who does not value education, who is working too many hours to know or care what there kids are doing, who is mentally or physically abusive, who is dependent on alcohol or drugs, or who suffers from some type of mental illness.

"I am amazed at what our kids have to overcome everyday. I am also a parent of two honor students. My college student has won multiple scholarships. Who do you credit for that? Her teachers? They deserve some credit for their knowledge of subject matter....BUT it is the YEARS that I have spent raising them to value education, spending precious time with them, and pushing them to always do their best.

"The most promising students are those who benefit from the combination of GOOD parenting and GOOD teaching. They will choose their peers based upon shared values, and they will have the strength of character to speak their own mind. The old saying "birds of a feather, flock together" is very true.

"Kids who are raised in similar homes, suffer similar problems, and will group together to find some sort of "home away from home" feeling of comfort and safety. Its hard to be a member of an intelligent and successful peer group, when you cannot relate to any of the experiences that they have had. This article and the author of this book is a joke. Sadly it will be used by irresponsible parents to bolster their own irresponsible attitudes of denying any responsibility for the fate of their own offspring".

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

Tweedy



A new movie, with a very dear friend of Inky the Octopus!

tweedy shop4a
This is Tweedy, our eight-legged star! Tweedy is a charming little fellow made entirely of heathered black wool yarn. He loves reading, and looking at the stars, and well, obviously he loves lounging about on things as well. Tweedy would make a dear companion, as well as an adorable addition to a nursery or bookshelf. He's perfect for Halloween too!

tweedy shop6a
Tweedy is in the shop now, looking for a loving home with lots of toast and tinned pineapple. Who knows, he might make another film in the meantime haha!

Saturday, October 20, 2012




I was greatly saddened this morning to hear the sound of chainsaws outside my home. At first I'd thought it was just some pruning of the trees by the road, but looking out my windows, I saw that it was in fact the beginnings of the complete destruction of the last parcels of forest that once carpeted this entire estate.

These trees have been here since I was a child; they used to grow so thickly together that you could barely make out what was beyond the first few rows. The whole place would be alive with the sounds of birds and frogs and crickets and numerous other animals scurrying secretly within the foliage. Everywhere it was a deep, deep green, and the air would be so cool and smell so clean.

And now, the incalculable greed of developers and investors has bulldozed its cruel way in. I had in fact written to a certain minister with regard to this, not once, but thrice; almost needless to say, I did not even receive a token letter of acknowledgment.

For those of you who are so blessed to live surrounded by nature in all its life and splendour and beauty -- relish and delight yourselves in it, be daily thankful for it, do all you can to preserve it.

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I'd taken these photos when it first became obvious that even this last patch of forest had been condemned. I felt we simply had to have some record of what it looked like. I didn't want my kids to forget.

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This picture kinda captures what it's all about.

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When I was a child, there used to be a tiny village in the midst of all this jungle; the people had little thatch-roofed homes, and raised their own chickens. I used, in fact, to play with a boy who lived there, a little ragamuffin who never spoke. They all disappeared when the land was taken for the construction of block after block of apartments.

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Ro is still too young to fully grasp that what we'd just walked through would all be gone. As it turned out, it was in fact our last walk through there; the very next day, they started boarding it up.

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Goodbye.

Thursday, October 18, 2012

grown-up Tabby

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The Tabby satchel in a grown-up size! This particular satchel was made for a sweet young lady in Illinois.

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It's sized a good 11x10", and holds a great many things, including a fat copy of Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell. There's an inner pocket as well for easy access to keys and pens and cellphone and such. This particular satchel had an adorable teapot pocket. You can get your own customisable satchel here :)

Thursday, October 11, 2012

Excursion




And -- more stop motion experimentation! This was 255 frames for about four minutes of film -- very effortful lol. I've certainly learned a few things from this experience. For one thing, a tripod is definitely handy; I used one for the first time ever to do this (yeah, I did Inky with one hand haha).

I also realised quickly enough that a tiny digital camera which cleverly switches itself off every few seconds is not helpful. Plus if, like me, you're using a computer that's at least 10 years old -- save, save, save; at every turn, and at every moment. Trust me, you do not want to have worked on a hundred frames and then have to start all over again. I guess people who do this seriously for a living have to have fairly sophisticated equipment -- plus a team of assistants.

In any case, B wanted me to do a movie with her Sylvanians, and I decided to make it educational for her; and, well, it's about time those Sylvanians do some work around here!

Blessed weekend everyone :)

Monday, October 8, 2012

Inky



More movie experimentation! This was 38 frames for just 24 seconds of film -- effortful! I've read that it takes an average 1,440 frames to make one minute of film -- you just have to marvel at the people who do entire movies.


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But here is Inky, the star of the show! Inky is a sweet little fellow made entirely of black yarn. He loves reading, and listening to dinner conversations, and well, obviously he loves lounging about on things as well. Inky would make a charming companion, as well as an adorable addition to a nursery or bookshelf. He's perfect for Halloween too!


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Inky is in the shop now, though I must admit to feeling greatly tempted to keep him. Perhaps for more exciting films haha!
See you soon!

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