Sashiko

I think I'm pretty in love with sashiko. There is something really satisfying about the simplicity of the plain fabric coming to life with the easiest of stitches. The four pieces I made while in Japan in April got me pretty inspired to do more, but what to do with them was a real issue. I like to make practical things, not things that just look pretty. 

So I just added designs to my Pinterest board and wished inspiration would hit. At last it did. 

In my classroom is an enormous wall that has been painted with magic paint to make it a whiteboard. This is all pretty fabulous, except that unlike a normal white board, it's not magnetic. This means having an eraser that just sticks on and is always easy to find is not really an option. I also didn't have any shelving at the white board side of the room, so even storing one was tricky. The kids have spent most of the year (to my shame) using tissues to clean it off. 

Half way through, grid lines are in place,
only need to sew along the circles.

When I was thinking about things that Japanese people initially made with their sashiko stitching, I realised that a dish cloth, for washing up, probably has the same properties that the white board cleaner needs. It's double layered for strength and durability and all the stitches gives it a good texture for cleaning. 

I grabbed out some darker fabric from my stash (figuring that it would be less of an eyesore than if I used a white) and got to prepping. I think this is the last of a dark blue pillow case from Lorraine Lea - you can see it in the first photo here though I can't think where else I've used it! Anyway, I had enough to prep two roughly square pieces. 

All done and looking good!
The threads are slightly different shades of green for the grid vs the circles.
I kind wish they were more different, but whatever. 

The first I did a grid and circles design to help practice getting my stitches the right length and work on curves vs lines. These only took maybe an hour each to sew; I did this one while watching Hidden Figures with the girls and Steve one Saturday arvo.

The second I didn't take any glamor shots of (so much regret now!) before I hung it up and started using it, but it is so beautiful and the design was heavily inspired by this image I saw on Pinterest. Both of these are at school pegged up on my whiteboard wall (pegs are stuck on with blue tack) and the kids who have the job of rubbing off the board say they do a great job (though they are a little surprised I'm asking them to clean with something that looks so pretty). 

I think I'll make more. Maybe a class set of smaller ones for the students to use on their mini whiteboards. 

Do I need to get out more? Perhaps, but even if I did, I'd probably take my housewife and sashiko stitching with me anyway. 

Tedama: Japanese Juggling Balls

I realised after my post on Street Camp, that I have never blogged about what has now become one of my favourite hand sewing projects. Tedama, are Japanese juggling balls. The word literally means hand (te) ball (dama). I learnt how to make these way back when I first lived in Japan 20 years ago. I had joined Japanese Culture Club (after the every day two hour training nature of the Volleyball club left me with zero joy) and sewn my first yukata there (I mention it here if you are interested). After I finished the yukata, the teacher filled in some time by teaching us how to make tedama before the school year was up. 

All you need is four rectangles of fabric that are a 1:2 ratio. So if you did 1.5 inches, the other side would be 3 inches. (Sorry Aussies, quilting has ruined me and I now often measure in imperial when sewing; horror!) I made a bunch way back then, and I think some more when I started teaching Japanese in 2009, but it had been several years since I'd given it a go. I will admit to googling the instructions to refresh my memory!

Tedama usually look beautiful because they are traditionally made out of the scraps from old kimono. I had some of that exact kind of fabric that had been given to me by a friend a while ago, but I also picked up some when we were in Japan earlier in the year. I initially started making these to increase the amount I had on hand at school this year, but it's becoming quite addictive and I may not stop. I just do a cutting session so I have all the little rectangles ready to go. They fit easily in my housewife and are so quick to make while listening to the sermon at church or the minutes and reports at the P&C meeting. 

Anyway, I do have a goal for this year because I want to use them as an activity in my school Japanese festival in March, which means I need to have at least a class set ready to go for then. At a base level, that's 25 - one for each student. But if I want to let them have two to practice with, I'm going to need 50. And really, three each would be ideal... 

Heavy

It's hard to put into words what I want to say but I'm noticing the weight of life more as the years go on. This year the heaviness has come and gone several times. Being able to look back and recognise that while the feeling is uncomfortable, it doesn't stay forever has begun to give me some clarity over it. Almost like when it comes I can allow it the space to visit, knowing that eventually it will pack its bags and leave again. 

Strange to think that we become accustomed to the feeling of weight. Wearing the sorrow and carrying the grief around as part of us while our lives continue on. I'd like to think I've never been one to wear a disguise to hide what is under the surface, but maybe I'm getting better at sharing with other people in a way to make them less uncomfortable. I don't know for sure. 

Earlier this year I picked up an extra days work at a second school to take my three days part time up to four. Fully aware that I am in a very privileged minority who has the option to work part time and choose my three or four days, I wanted to be sure I was contributing what I could to our family's earnings, not just coasting by on Steve's hard work (my mind, not in any way a reflection on Steve's stance, which, was just the opposite). I was feeling like I had a bit of spare time and thought that one extra day at another school, much closer than my current one, would not add an excessive load and be worth the added income. 

Boy was I wrong. The expectation of work (teaching prep to grade 6 in four hours with no scheduled prep time) was immense. At the end of the day, I'm not sure the school would have minded if I just did colouring in with the kids each week and recycled the same lesson for all six periods (grades 5&6 were a composite class for those who noticed a discrepancy in the text there). But I'm a passionate and committed educator who not only wants to deliver meaningful and engaging lessons, but I would be so bored if I recycled anything more than once. 

Not only the work load in terms of lessons, but just the sheer amount of effort it takes to get to know 150 student names and personalities is incredibly taxing. Don't get me started on the school systems and all the wonderful paperwork and mandatory training (student protection, code of conduct, cyber safety to name a few) that comes with a new school. 

I was doubling up on things I planned at my original school to try to cut down on my planning time, but then I'd need resources that I'd forget at one school when I needed them at another, or at home, or have to make two sets of to be sure I had them on hand for the right class. Definitely not ideal.  

In the second last week of term three, I was really feeling that weight, and after an incident at the new school involving some pretty terrible student behaviour, I was done. It took me a week (maybe more) to even talk about the experience without tears. I'm not ashamed of crying, especially when it comes from such a raw experience, but it does make processing, sharing and moving on somewhat difficult. 

Yet, God is good. With some very sound advice from other teachers who I was trusting to see the situation clearly when I had lost all confidence in trusting myself, and finally listening to Steve (who had told me it wasn't worth it way back after the second week I was there), I wrote my resignation email. Though I was still somewhat broken, the weight lifted. The last week of school and first week of holidays did a lot to help put me back together, especially Street Camp. Oh, how perfectly timed what that little getaway. 

But life continues. I ended up in hospital in the second week of holidays, having some straightforward emergency surgery. Healing of all kinds is a process that takes time and my journey involved daily doctor's visits to change dressings and check the progress. I was surprisingly more ok about missing the first week of school than I would usually have been. Then again, term four is always a much calmer term for me, despite the report card deadlines that loom ever closer. 

Second week and I was finally back at work when we had news that again caused me grief; from a number of places. That's not my story to tell, but again the weight sits with me. It reminds me of our broken world, of the way we need to cling to Jesus for hope. When I was younger (oh, how old I sound now! Maybe I'm trying too hard for wisdom?), I feel that the sadness was something that just needed fixing. That all I wanted to do was patch it back up and move on. 

But we can't patch everything, and sometimes we can have forward motion even as we carry the cares that try to hold us down. So I'll let the heaviness sit with me. I'll be ok with the grief. There is a time for everything, and if this is one of those times, that's ok. This is surely teaching me something too. 

"Consider the birds," Jesus says, "They don't farm or store away for tomorrow, and yet God feeds them. Are you not worth so much more than they?" (Matthew 6:26 Paula paraphrase)

Do I believe this? I do. 

Even in the grief of sorrow for people close to me, for people everywhere struggling, I cling to the hope I have of a God who loves us and considers us precious. In our broken and sorrow filled world, I know there is light, and good. Even just writing about Street Camp last month reminded me of all these things. 

This may not be a post for everyone to enjoy, but in my desire to be authentic and contain more than just shallow experiences on my blog, which is such a huge a reflection of my life, here it is. Reminding future Paula (and anyone else who needs to hear it) that the grief is not forever and the weight won't last. Love always wins. 

Street Camp

One of the best things about this year has to be Street Camp. 

Our street is just so fabulous, I can't even begin to describe. Each year we have a Christmas party, we have a street chat group, if anyone needs a cup of sugar (or, to be honest, the whole cake), it's only a few houses away. In summer we are so lucky to have open invites to people's pools. The kids run around together, especially when it's raining and they can play in the puddles. If you have leftovers that need eating, just let the street know to come round and suddenly it's a party. 

I honestly can not describe how full it makes my heart to live in such a beautiful place with such caring and available people who continually open their lives to us. Yes, we are part of that, but it's honestly a community that has been such a blessing over the years. It's possible (actually very, very probably) that I will never be able to leave this street. 

We've tossed around the idea of going away together before. I know lots of school families who regularly do this, mostly by camping together somewhere. While I know we aren't the camping kind, we'd still be up for it in the name of Street Community. Others on our street were less keen however, so at the start of this year, one of our neighbours started to really look into what other options were out there. 

It needed to be not tents, affordable, have enough space for us all to get together, but also enough sleeping spaces for people to have their own area. There was a preference for not more than a two hour drive, nature and water, but not the end of the world if not. We ended up finding a campsite at Lake Perseverance which was set up for school groups. It had all the usual things you would expect at a school camp - bunk beds in dorms with shared bathrooms and also a smaller room and ensuite (designed for the teachers). As well as big kitchen and dining areas, lots of outside and a lake to kayak in. 

The price was reasonable so we all put it in our calendars and booked it. Or so we thought. Unfortunately, the Hungarian Club of Brisbane had enquired and booked at the same time as us, and when it came down to who won the double booking, it was the Members of the Hungarian Club of Brisbane who came away victorious. 

The Seven Street Camp Families panicked for a moment and then held an emergency meeting at the bowls club on Friday night to solve our problems. There was no way we could find and book a similar place with the short time turn around (originally we had booked in February for our September holiday camp, and now it was August), so we looked on AirBnB for something that could work. 

There were some beautiful big houses available, but the hardest thing was finding one with enough outdoor spaces for us to not be living right on top of one another. I mean, we love being on the street together, but that's possibly because we can all go back to our own houses at the end of the day. This was the first time that we were planning this and none of us wanted it to be the end of the amazing community we had. 

After we shortlisted a bunch of places, we ended up booking a place about four hours away on a property out west. Calamity struck again though when the owners contacted us and said they had mistakenly not blocked out that availability. What were we going to do? Back to the short list and the next winning place was slightly out of our price range, so Kim contacted them directly to explain our situation and ask for a discount. They said yes and Street Camp 2024 was officially saved. 

Our new camp was a huge house on top of a mountain about 20mins outside of Gympie. Not on acreage by any means, but the yard was certainly enough for a group of kids to run around and kick a ball, and big enough for the grown ups to have several late nights by the fire. We decided to have each family fend for themselves for breakfasts and lunches. We all bought more than enough snacks to share and we just divided up the dinners between the families. 

I was looking forward to Street Camp so much. With seven families, we had 28 people coming - an even split of 14 adults and 14 kids. The kids naturally sorted themselves into roughly two groups - a teens and then a younger bunch. The house was pretty stocked with a massive kitchen (two actually) as well as decks and living areas. It had 21 beds, so there were actually enough for all of us (that 21 includes at least 10 double/queen types). 

The way the beds were organised in the rooms though did make things a little tricky, since the kids all wanted to be together (in their various groups and configurations) and aside from one family, most of the grown ups were preferring to be adults only. In the end, one of the dads set up his swag outside, and Sophie and Hadley decided to tent (the first night) and then camp in the living room the second two. Everyone else was comfortable in a bed, even James (our youngest kid) who I'm fairly sure slept in a different room each night - including the last night where he climbed in with Rachel. 

From the moment we got there, the relaxing began. I don't think I've ever been so switched off for a few days away. There were almost no plans. The weather was perfect. Everyone just got along. 

Our first full day, some of the dads decided to take the kids to the "Historic" Saw Mill in Gympie, and the two families with teens went off looking for a country bakery and waterholes to swim in. I was blissfully left at the house with two other ladies and we all enjoyed our time by ourselves. I read a book (Goose Girl by Shannon Hale), lay around, unstacked the dishwasher and basked in the serenity. 

We had bought board games, which were played by various people at different times. The kids got into making dragon puppets together. There were soccer games outside and sing-a-longs inside. One of the dads had bought a projector thinking the kids might want to watch a movie, but they ended up setting it up for a sports ball game (AFL?) that was apparently important to watch. Steve took the job of going for the opposing team so that everyone could enjoy a good bit of heckling while the watched. We had a fire every night. 

Mornings were slow; people got up in dribs and drabs. Ben had packed his coffee machine and made sure everyone got their caffeine fix as they came out to the back deck to sit under blankets and watch the sun climb higher into the sky. I cut fabric squares for a quilt I'll make one day. I sewed tedama out of kimono scrap fabrics while people chatted. 

Sophie and Hadley made a lemon tart for everyone. The kids spent lots of time in and out of the hot tub (even though some of the settings changed/broke and it was progressively colder as the days went by). There were cows across the road and a mulberry tree in the yard. Everyone else stayed up late, I got up early and made the kids pancakes for breakfast. 

We did "Paint and Sip", which was more just "paint what you want" with the subtext of "finish in time for the next sports ball game". We were on dinner with our lovely vegan neighbours and made some of the best burrito bowls ever. Healthy perfection. We watched the sunset every day. Steve and Daryl tasted and ranked all of the fancy fancy beers they bought. I tried most of them too, though I didn't like nearly as many as they did. 

There were lots of conversations; about kids, life, birth stories (:P), faith, and what cheese to eat next. Silly times like when Tom read the French kids book we found on the shelf about the ant who wouldn't share. Music times playing the Street Camp Playlist off Spotify, or asking the kids to choose the next song. Steve teaching the younger boys to use the cajon while we were jamming before dinner. 

Then suddenly, it was Sunday and we were packing up to go home again. It had honestly been the most beautiful time away and I couldn't have been more thankful to know these people and live with them. Even packing and leaving was fun - lots of "See you in three hours!" comments as we all loaded in and drove away. There are currently no plans for a Street Camp next year - everyone is busy and we know there will be other priorities, but I can see it being a semi regular event. I hope it will be. 

Until then, we are looking forward to the Street Christmas Party. Yes, we've already locked in the date. 

Athena

Time for a random side quest into gardening. This is our Kalamata olive tree, planted in the front garden bed. We've wanted one for a long time. I love their silvery leaves. We happened to be at a garden centre one morning and the girls were campaigning hard. 

They named her Athena Sharp-Spear in the car on the way home. For her silvery, pointy leaves. 

One Short Day: The Emerald City Dress

Excited to be going to see Wicked called for a new green dress! I was talking with a friend who I was going with and when my brain thought back to my cupboard and only two green dresses sprang to mind. This one, which is so well worn that it's been relegated back to a "home only" dress, and my Frog Doona Dress, which is a little too much of a statement piece for Wicked. 

Then I didn't actually check my cupboard when I got home, but just dove into the fabric draws. In hindsight, I could have pretty easily worn the Peacock Dress, which is very green. Calling me, in the fabric draw, however, was the perfect fabric. This I had picked up in Japan from our April Travels and is honestly so perfect for Wicked that the timing was just meant to be. 

I dug out my new go-to dress pattern (self drafted from a Princess Highway dress I love and most recently used to make my Onigiri Dress), and decided I would just swap the skirt out for a quarter circle (similar to my Christmas Skirt) instead of a gathered one. I had exactly two meters of this green cotton with lovely golden flowers on it, and I knew I couldn't get any more since it came from Japan and I had two weeks till the show. I cut very carefully. Measure twice cut once - more like measure five times then cut once. 

The dress itself came together easily. Not having any matching fabric for lining I lined it with some leftover cotton from the fancy pyjamas I made in 2022.  Unorthodox, perhaps, but when you are sewing your own clothes you kinda get to make the rules. The biggest adjustment I made (aside from the skirt style) was to lower the back to get away with a shorter zip. 

It was all going very smoothly, until I pinned the skirt in place and found I'd allowed too much and it was too big. Having already sewn the sides with pockets, I was reticent to unpick all that hard work, so I turned to the sewing community of Brisbane to ask their advice. My thoughts were to either use darts/pleats to take in the extra at the waist, or just cut out two sections of the skirt front so it would look like panels. Most people were either in favour of the dart/pleat suggestion or of gathering the skirt to fit the bodice. 

I hadn't thought of gathering because I didn't want it to look bulky and out of place on the circle skirt, but everyone assured me it would be barely noticeable. I figured that was the easiest thing to try and unpick if it didn't work, so that is what I ended up doing. And I loved it. Thank you sewing community of Brisbane for saving the day!

When I tried it on though, the bodice was too gape-y at the top! I'm thinking it's because I lowered the back neckline and somehow failed to compensate, but the front was big too. Anyway, I solved the front with a gather and then umm-ed and ahh-ed about fixing the back. The simplest but certainly messiest (and ugliest) solution would be some darts. The other option was to unpick the zip, move the back seam and then sew it back in.

I left it sit on the dress form while I went to Street Camp, secretly hoping that some small animal friends or magic would do the work for me while I was away. When I returned however - no such luck. Time to try plan B. 

As always with unpicking, it didn't take as long as I feared and resewing the zip in took hardly any time at all. The dress was finished with some self-made bias tape for the hem and hand stitching the bodice down on the inside. It's beautiful, the gathering at the waist is barely noticeable, and the pockets are excellent. 

I had just enough fabric left to cut and make Steve a matching bow-tie, because bow-ties are cool. 

It was pretty lucky that I actually got to wear the dress though, because I was admitted into emergency for some surgery on the Wednesday night. Though all the pain while the surgeon was telling me what was going to happen, I was mostly crying because I thought it would mean I wouldn't get to Wicked the next day. Luckily, they did the straightforward (and pain relieving) operation at 7pm, and I was discharged at 10:30 on Thursday morning. I went home, took painkillers and got dressed to get to the matinee performance. Needed a big lie down afterwards, but it was worth it. 

Hakama Making

When we were in Japan in April, I picked up my first hakama. I gave you an introduction to it here, but it is honestly very quickly becoming a favourite addition to my kimono wardrobe. A hakama is a split side skirt (or pants) that you wear over your kimono. They honestly transform the kimono so much, from a rather slim-line dress to one that is flowy and free. 

The hakama I bought is 100% wool, so I'll be wearing it in the winter months, but I could see a light cotton one in my future to add to the spring/autumn kimono wearing. As it was, after wearing my purple hakama a few times, I was sure I could make my own. They are made from pleated rectangles of fabric with two waist ties, so very straight forward sewing. 

I did watch a handful of YouTube tutorials on hakama sewing to get a bit more of an idea about how to make them, though to be honest, what I was really after was a bit hard to find and a lot of the English tutorials were focused on cos-play versions, not authentic historical garment versions. Still good background knowledge to have. Everything else came from examining the hakama that I had on hand and trying to replicate it. 

I actually knew as soon as I decided I wanted to make one that I had the perfect fabric on hand already. From Ikea, of all places! I had bought two metres of this Japanese-looking maple print fabric a long time ago. It was so perfect for this project. I did some measuring though and found I would need at least another half a metre (for the ties), but I'd bought it so long ago it was no longer available! I did find it on the internet (Esty Canada) but paying what would work out to be $40 including shipping for a half a metre of material (that originally was $6/metre) just wasn't worth it. 

I ended up taking it to Spotlight and finding a matching plain fabric that worked for the ties. In the end, I actually think that was good anyway, since the hakama print combined with a yukata print can be a little overwhelming to look at; having the plain section in the middle to break it up is helpful. 

Deciding to just sew it on the machine, this was honestly the quickest article of Japanese clothing I've ever made. The pleats were the hardest thing, but otherwise, just so so straightforward, barely any seams (literally side seams, hem and then the ties - so minimal!) and all straight lines. If I ever need a quick palet cleanser again, this would be the garment to make!

I did about 80% of it (everything except the final sew of the ties) in a night and then left it with some heavy books on it to really help the pleats set in. It lay on the floor like that for a few days before I got around to finishing the ties. When it's all folded (in traditional origami-like Japanese style) it looks pretty dang cool. 

But even better wearing it to school. 

So hard to get a photo, so I waited until I came home and had these lovely girls help me. 

You can really see the split-side skirt nature of the hakama here. It was almost like having pockets to slide my hands into, and really, you could easily make some hidden ones to sit on the back of that front pannel with not a lot of hassle. 

I will say too, that a hakama is very "zero waste" sewing, since it was rectangles, the full width of the material, just cut to length and then sewn on to a waist band. Honestly, love this thing so much. The Ikea fabric was 100% cotton, but a heavier weight of fabric. Still, lighter than the wool one. I'd still like to make an even lighter cotton one, but for now, this is good. 

Happy days!