I just ran a search through my email. Searched for messages I HAD have for one reason or another, messages from my dad or sisters with info I need (such as new phone numbers) and sorted them into subfolders.
Then I hit Select All on everything left in the InBox, and hit Delete. Over 4,000 messages, gone. Poof. I've been promising myself I'd get them read, and it just isn't going to happen. I refuse to stress over email anymore, that's just dumb.
- Current Mood:
relieved
In order to get a new bin for free, I would have to go to the regional police, and file a report that it was stolen, then take that report to the township office. Isn't just a total waste of time? Are the North York Regional Police going to arrest the wind?
Alternately, I can go to the township office and pay $5 for a new bin. Guess which option I'm going to take.
- Current Mood:bemused
Also note, a Wii Fit is an instrument of torture. :-)
on my new and quite possibly all-consuming new quest.
I was Googling Sir John Brockett, in the hopes of finding a copy of his portrait, and found an entire BOOK about the Brocketts of Brockett Hall, available as a PDF on Google Books!
AND it specifically mentions the ancestor Donna had found, Thomas Reade. When I first found Brockett Hall, where Thomas Reade had died, we assumed he must have been a servant there. Turns out he OWNED the place, through marriage to Sir John Brockett's daughter. And Thomas Reade was a knight as well!
The book includes a picture of the portrait I seek, but sadly not of his wife. I shall have to continue my research. Woe is me, however shall I bear up under this burden?
- Current Mood:
enthralled
The other day, though, between the two of us we uncovered a connection to the Brockett family of Hertfordshire, and we appear to be direct descendants of Sir John Brockett and his wife, whose portraits hang in the staircase of Brockett Hall.
Hence the new project--these portraits were painted by Antonio Moro, and depict the couple in clothing "of the Flemish style". My mission is to find images of these portraits, and recreate those costumes for myself and my husband. I like Flemish garb anyway, and how cool would it be to know that your garb is an accurate copy of something worn in a portrait by your own ancestor?
Now the problem--these portraits are apparently not considered among Moro's most important works. Apparently portraits of people like Queen Mary are just a tad more interesting to other people. So I'm on a hunt to find pics somewhere, anywhere, of the portraits. I've written to Brockett Hall asking for information, but since it's now a hotel and golf resort, I'm not holding out a whole lot of hope from them.
- Current Mood:
excited
But it's after eleven, and I want to mop the kitchen floor before I go to bed. And he's popped out of bed and come running through the kitchen, into the sewing room, at least six times the last 90 minutes. He's a jack in the box.
If I could bottle that energy, I'd be richer than Bill Gates. (And my kitchen floor would be clean.)
- Current Mood:
sleepy
FabricDragon is an evil, evil woman. (But in a good way.)
I saw her at a local SCA event last weekend and somehow came away with 12 yards of the most delicious tropical weight medium brown wool. It's already been washed and dried and is sitting in the sewing room percolating. I know half of it wants to be another Italian working class dress, but I'm not sure of the other half.
Although it would make a gorgeous 15th century kirtle, and I have been wanting one of those. Hmmmm. With a red open hood. Yesh. Yesh, I think we might have to period hop a little bit. It's only one century, after all.
hatethemhatethemhatethem
I spent part of today making a linen smock. Using the Tudor Tailor design, with gored sides, gussets in the sleeves, faced neckline, the whole nine yards. (Well, okay, about 3 yards...)
Everything was going swimmingly, zipping right along, till I came to the sleeves. Now, granted, I haven't sewn a stitch for quite a while, but I know how to set in a sleeve, right?
Wrong. I sewed the blasted thing in inside out. Thank goodness I hadn't finished the seam by the time I noticed it.
Grr. grumble, grouch, swear. Rip it out. Pin it back in the RIGHT way. Start the seam. The bobbin runs out. Change bobbin. Put seam back under presser foot. Jam a pin into base of index finger just deep enough to draw blood. Oh, well, it isn't finished till it's been bled on, right?
I'm done for the night. I have learned when to make a judicious retreat. If I attempt any more tonight, I'll really screw something up.
- Current Mood:
annoyed
Me "HOW many times have I told you NOT to eat in the living room??"
Jimmy "699,723."
- Current Mood: amused
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That's my Harry. Or Harry Birrrrd, as he calls himself. He is a cutie, isn't he?