Mary Shelley Likes Pickled Garlic

I swear if these new anti-mental meds don't kick in soon, my brain will turn into cushion stuffing.
But I must say I do like what they're doing for my creativity.
Perched upon my head is my latest lovely, made from marvelous denim-like, faded blue roses.
I'm in two minds about putting her in the Sassy Vamps shop as the blooms are rare and I really like them.
I've christened her: Mary Shelley Likes Pickled Garlic.
Don't ask.  I simply do not know the answer.
The Stylist took these pics moments after Victor, our 35-year-old Volvo, was towed home.
He needs a new fuel pump.
So do I.
The stunning backdrop is the garage of the new house being built next door.
Oh joy, the sounds of grinding metal, tinny radios, nine-hour concrete mixer marathons, shouting and comedic burping and farting intervals.
Six days a week.

They've all gone home so now we play!
Except I'm too buggered.


The other side of the house is untainted by construction and gives me some moments of peace.
A place where I can frolic with Lily the cat, wearing a 1930s nightie-as-frock.



As I mentioned, I'm getting used to new medication and my doctor has already switched things around, after I quickly gained several kilos faster than you can say "Fill a Bag of 40s Frocks for a Fiver."
Although I'm feeling very ill and bloated here, I couldn't help admiring my new arse - hehe!! Changing meds means changing brains and much befuddlement ... the house is a disgrace and I can barely string a sentence together, much to the confusion of everyone I speak to.
So ... I buy old, pretty coat hangers.
And tea-towels.
And sweet old sheets, of which this one will become my next pair of flares if I remember to pick up my trusty Husqvarna tomorrow following it's once-a-decade service.
I'll be using this pattern sent to me by dear Tamera.
I've already used it to make this pair of sheet flares, which fit perfectly.  (Well they did when I made them in February!)

Stay loose.
Baci,
Desiree x