Celtic oppidum

I guess that pictures of beautiful landscape would not strike you. Even a former Celtic oppidum would not help, neither the rocking stone (roche tremblante) of a supposedly magic Celtic quality (I tell you what, it did not even rock...).

It is little waiting rooms at train stations that deserve your attention. I seriously think that someone should photograph them like a series. They are kind of dried up spaces, a mixture of what things used to be 20 years ago and an endeavour to modernize which usually goes completely wrong direction. My husband liked the wall hangings, so well and badly known to me from when I was a kid. He wants one like that in our kitchen. I like it here on the blog better. I have no idea what the first one represents.

By the way, the walk in the wood and around the oppidum (you could not see it) was great.

Photo /c/ husband

Hold your horses

Hot wheels in the picture is Domík's and mine common project. It is a magazine. a home made one. Domík came up with it. And mummy felt like 10 years old ardent boy working on the picture for his pencil case.

The first picture: Dinosaurs by daddy.

The last: Book by Andy Warhol's mother for her little Andy. I think it is called Holy cats. The picture comes from a bizarre book on Warhol's relation to his native country and his family. I recommend. But you have to wait for the English edition.

Other than that:
I recall last year and our Christmas preparations. The little guy was ill and we had a lot of time to plan. We made gigantic gingerbread house. This years is different. I have more of interesting work and sometimes I enjoy it. I do not know yet if we pass this Christmas at home or in my parents' house. I can still make some gingerbread cookies. But before I will make three Wiener Schnitzles and we head off away from the town tomorrow for the walk in the wood (and in the fog which is actually smog - but not in the wood, right?).

....

I have a cold. It is annoying. I also got a bouquet, how beautiful! And a T-shirt and a handmade dinky minimalist book from Domík. It contains a spider, his drawers, a suitcase and a guitar. I ll show you later. But the most beautiful present was Domík's congratulation whispered in my ear. Something in between of what they taught him at school to say for their friends' birthday and what he wanted to say from his heart. Yes, I dropped a tear.



First picture: I am finishing some leftovers.

Yey!

I thought that I had made well enough puppets to put together a photo shoot. In the end it is the little guy who turned out the best. He likes robots. I sew one for him, it is the guy with a square head. His favorite. Mine is the doll, one of the first achievements after I started goofing with a needle and fabric again after some 15 years of a break. Oh, and talking about sewing, check out the little guy's lovely baggy shorts with front pockets carefully worked out in checkered fabric. Japanese sewing book.
On completely different subject: I am going dancing tomorrow night. Yey.

Ill (meaning ill)

I got so ill this last weekend that I could not go back to Prague with my family. The guys went by themselves, they liked it more than they had expected, and I stayed at my parent's house. My dad was taking care of me. He cooked, made tea and kept telling that I should see the doctor. I had fever! On the last day of my quiet refuge I went with my dad to collect moss for the Christmas nativity scene. How romantic! It needs to be done by this time, before the snow starts falling. I felt somewhat rustic as I was divesting the soft moss carpet from the rocks, feeling little tiny roots tearing off the stone. I did not mind the natural dirt and mess of rotting tree needles, leaves, earth and dew, all crunching in my fingers. As a kid I used to be disgusted!

Head of a bear

Little guy said the other day: I need to close the door so that I don't hear the little puppets.
What little puppets? I said.
They run around in the hall way and they disturb me.
???
He noticed that I kind of liked what his imagination brought up.
They come out at night, he continued, and they look at our stuff.
They don't hurt, he assured me, they take care of our things, they watch them.
So why do they disturb you then?
I don't like hearing them, he shrug his shoulders.

(I am not surprised. I am glad I do not hear them)

He has also shown me repeatedly a head of a bear sticking from things piled up in our spare room. He was pointing in the clear air insisting that it was a bear's head. It was probably his mommy's anger which materialized and hid in a dark corner.

I am glad I am not a kid anymore. I need to take that bear's head and puppets' pitter-patter into my heart.

What next?

My husband asked me to knit him a sweater. He actually does not care about me knitting a sweater, he would like to have a colourful splashy sweater that would be hand made. Probably hand made for him by his wife. Maybe he does care about that. He has made few designs. He is good in that. This one, the lower one, has come out from some doodling with the little guy. I really like it, although it looks like a view of a crazy knitting project with yarn and knitted pieces than a real pattern. But it can work as a pattern too.

Talking about patterns, I recall those that I made some twenty years ago and kind of laughed at them at this blog some time ago. They are very 80s, abstract, colourful and angular. They start growing on me. Have a look.