at what cost?

I have never been known to be fashionable, or have the latest, the greatest, in anything.  I don't want to follow the trend, I like what I like, I know what I like and I wear what I like - it really is that simple for me.  I know, I am special, what can I say.  

First and foremost I love op-shopping, no matter what town we are in, op-shops rule.  I love old stuff, I love stuff that has been loved and looked after so well that it still looks new.  I love that it's not in landfill, I love the price tag and I love that through most of my op-shopping, my purchase is going towards helping a particular charity.

I am trying to be more aware of what I purchase, and where it comes from.  This is fairly easy when it comes to food, thanks to people power, we are now getting items labelled correctly and honestly (some of the time), and for me, I have the power to make  informed choices, because there are people out there that are willing to search the truth, willing to put themselves forward and share their knowledge to inform me, the shopper, on what I am buying and where my money is going when I purchase certain items.  I like that.

So what about my clothes then?  Where are they coming from, who is making them and how do I know my money isn't being used for evil?  

I don't know.  

I really would like to know.

I have seen the odd documentary on sweat-shops over the years and each time I am horrified at the abuse that is wrought on those that slave 'work' there.  Oh and I am guilty, most certainly 100% guilty, because I am a purchaser of clothing.  

I recently read one of my absolute favourite blogs, notions.  Here's the nail, and here's the head, thanks Rosie for putting it out there. 

Then, I was out shopping on the weekend, stores screaming 'sale' from every window, with cheap posters and flashy signs - such a waste of beautiful trees - each store with prices lower than the one next to them.  I did stop, I did look through the racks, I was taken in by the hugely discounted price tags, sheesh, I am a girl after all.  But then I stopped. . . . . . I put the items back on the racks and I walked away.  I don't need these items, not at all, I don't need any of them.

So how does it work?  Is there a little family starving tonight because I didn't purchase those items on the weekend?  Is there a Mum selling her body on the street just so that she can put a mouthful of dry rice into the mouth of her child because she has lost her job at the clothing factory?  Will I ever, in my lifetime, know where my clothing comes from or the fabric that I sew with?  Don't I have a right to know these things, to be in control of where I choose my money to go?  Would I allow my children to become slaves all day and all night?  So why do I so easily accept the fact that another Mothers children are?  Just because I cannot see something happening, does not mean it isn't.

I do say a huge thank you to those that are fashionistas and turn their entire wardrobe over with every season.  Without these people, I would not have the pleasure of op-shopping.  The op-shops would not have the pleasure of making a bit of money to give grocery vouchers to those that need it.  But does that give me the right to feel at ease with myself because I op-shop?  The clothing was still made by the same hands no matter how many times the item has been donated.  I am just keeping it out of landfill, and giving money to a charity.


So where does that leave me now?  Is there a nudie run in this at all?  Then of course if we all go back to birthday suits, what happens to all those mammoth shopping plazas, and job losses.  Don't even go near the gazillion lightbulbs being used, or the electricity that is used to even open the store doors. . . . . . . . . I know, how far does one take it?  I am not even touching the subject of the toy sales.  I am just hoping right now in every major chain store that none of them have a fire over the next 3 weeks.  We will all choke on the fumes of melted plastic. 

Moderation and awareness could well be the key to sorting out this mess.  I am going to start with me.  I am going to start asking more questions, finding out more information.    I do hope to get a hold of this book.  You can read a review about it here.  (Thanks Rosie)


I typed this post out last week, however, I have not felt comfortable in hitting the 'publish' button.  I am not sure why, possibly because I don't know enough on the subject, possibly because I cannot express myself quite so 'artfully' as others.

I had come to the conclusion that I would link the article but not comment on it, until, after a conversation (totally unrelated to this subject, but equally real) with my lovely and very intelligent neighbour, she made a comment to me that although each of us are 'one person', we should not fear wanting more information, we should not fear being able to express our concerns, and we really can make a difference if there is enough of us willing to do so.  Now you have it, I have hit the publish button.  It's out there, my mish-mash, shared with you.

Please read the article, and if you feel as strongly as I do and would like to, please pass it on to others.  Please leave a comment of your own thoughts on this topic whether it be on your blog or in my comments.  If you post and comment on your blog, please let me know, I would love to read your post.  I would so love to hear from you, I would love to learn more if you have more to share.  

Thanks so much for stopping by my place today.  

Bingo - make your own

As part of my studies, I am to put together a portfolio of activities suitable for the classroom.  I can do that!  Here is one that instead of just writing up the instructions, I escaped the computer desk and got hands on making.  Much more fun than typing a whole bunch of words *yawn*.  

Did you know that Bingo used to be called Beano?  There you go, so now you know, oh and also did you know it is believed to have originated from Italy in the 14th Century, and they still play the same 'Lo Guiocu del Lotto D'Italia' every week?  Now you know that too, just like me.

Then some dude by the name of Edwin Lowe saw Beano being played at a local county carnival in Georgia around 1930, he was astounded by the excitement of the players and so went home, made a few changes invited some friends over and watched the excitement of his guests as they got hooked on Beano.  

Around this time some chic was playing Beano, so the story goes, and in her excitement of completing her full line on the card in front of her, she called 'Bingo'.  Edwin must have really liked her, cause he then called the game Bingo.  The game become so popular that Edwin needed help and so called a mate, Carl Leffler, a University Math Professor and so pretty ok with numbers and stuff, and offered to pay him a lot of money to make up original Bingo card combos.  Poor Carl did it, but sheesh, he must have had a rotten headache by the time he finished around 6,000 original bingo cards.  

So there you go, now you can impress your friends with some bingo history.

So, ok, here is how I made mine.

Cereal boxes.

Print out your number cards.  If you don't want to print your own, in the comment box below this post, let me know with your email address and I can send you my 8 cards, however, you will have to print them out yourself, then adhere them to your own cereal boxes and you will have to trim them yourself, then laminate or contact cover yourself, but it's ok, cause that is the easy part.  You can also print them on coloured cardstock of which I am going to do another set.  

Then because I felt like it, I drew up 50 x 3cm squares and in black marker wrote the numbers from 1 to 50 on each of them with a black dot in the top left corner (to show orientation).  You can type your numbers out or if you ask nicely, I can type them out and send them with the bingo sheets for you to print, cut and paste.

Once you have printed, pasted, and snipped, you will have 8 x bingo cards.  Again if you ask nicely and need more, I am more than happy to supply a few more for you, or you could even make more of your own using mine as a template.  I am nice like that you know.  I like to share, cause I know so many others share with me.  

Go find yourself some lego blocks, buttons, dried macaroni, bottle tops, counters, lollies, whiteboard markers (if laminated or contact covered) or whatever is on hand to start your game, invite your friends over, get cosy and bingo away.

Some little notes:

The game I have set up does not have 'BINGO' at the top of the card.  I have made it for little ones, it needs to be easy, it needs to be fun, it needs to be quick-ish, it needs to not feel like learning stuff.

It's a 5 x 5 grid, made up of 

1 − 10 in row 1, 

11 − 20 in row 2, 

21 − 30 in row 3, 

31 − 40 in row 4, and 

41 − 50 in row 5.  

Nice and simple, all the numbers in order along each row.  

We start the game by putting a block on the 'free' square.  You can have a single person be the 'caller' or you can each take turns dipping into the container to pull a number and calling it.  

You can call the rules of the game at the beginning of each game, for example the winner is the person that can cover all their corners, 5 in a row, or 'x' marks the spot across the middle.  It's your game, it's your way.  

You can pull out the monopoly money, collect your 5cent coins, or use fantales to purchase your bingo cards.  You can wrap up little prizes for the winners, you can do a nudie bolt down the street if you so wish.  Just let me know if you are coming down my street so I can give you a cheer and spotlight you as you go past with my torch.  No point doing a nudie run if no one is there to see it now - you gotta share the love you know!

*ahem*

In a classroom situation, (nudie runs are not allowed) in a similar age/ability class group the teacher can be the 'caller' and when a number is pulled instead of saying '9', they can say '5 plus 4 equals. . . .' then let the students find their answer and cover it if they have it.  It can be just the number, it can be subtraction, addition, multiplication it can be a combination of any or all.

The number can be written on the board for students that need to 'see' the number to match it.

Thanks so much for stopping by my place today.  

Have a wonderful weekend at your place, and Happy Birthday to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth.  We have a long weekend here in Australia.  Shame about that really.  

Take care of you.

B is for Bingo!

Little Miss Muffet

'Little Miss Muffet

Sat on her tuffet,

Eating her curds and whey;

Along come a spider,

Who sat down beside her,

And frightened Miss Muffet away.'

There was some speculation this morning at preschool as to the word 'tuffet'. Some of the staff thought it was ones 'bottom'. Myself and some others thought it was a small seat/stool, you know, similar to a little wooden milking stool with the round seat and three little legs.

We were rather interested to see, so one of the staff took to the office and googled. . . . . . .

meanwhile, . . . . . .

what. . . . .

do. . . . . . .

you. . . . . .

think. . . . . .

a . . . . . . . .

'tuffet'. . . . . .

might be . . . . . . . ?. . . . . . .?

To check out your answer click Tuffet and you will see if you are correct. I was sort of close. Rather interesting, and very, very cute. It's amazing what you learn at preschool you know.

Oh and here is some information you might like to read in regards to the nursery rhyme itself.

This cute little ditti above was used by the WPA (Work Projects Administration USA) in 1940 to promote reading in young children. It was on the wikipedia site, and I just had to add it here, because I so love the little poster. I think I would like a dress just like that.

As for a tuffet, well I have found some very cute versions to share with you below.

Found here

Found here AND you have to check out all of her blog, it's awesome, I forgot about my post and have been sitting here reading. *sigh* go, go now, say hello and have a look at all the wonderful goodness.

So ok, now you know what a tuffet is, and now you know what they look like, you also know that I want a dress just like the poster oh but not the socks, and now you also have a new blog to have a look at too.

You probably know now, that I am just a tad 'strange' and not your average chic, but I can't be any other way, so I hope that you are ok with that.

Have a wonderful Friday evening, have a wonderful weekend, and may the spiders at your place not cause too much frightening acts of scaring anyone.

Eyebrows, just who is responsible and why?

Whose big idea was the eyebrow anyhow?? I know, I know, to stop the driplets of sweat getting in ones eyes. . . . yes. . . . true. . . . apparently. Also, the eyebrow helps detect any small specs of debris which may enter the eye.

So ok, that's great, really, the eyebrow is a very busy part of our body, every single day, all day, working hard to keep out the specs, making sure the sweat diverts away from the eye, and showing surprise when surprise due.

*Phew* and all this, without us even thinking about this little hairy, busy wonder that sits so quietly and functioning away all on its lonesome above our peek-a-boos.

So now tell me, why the heck do women feel the desire to pluck the crap out of that little curved line of hair that looks after our eyes so well all day, every day, without us even knowing they are there, looking surprised when surprised is required, keeping away the debris and sweat and protecting our eyes? Hmmmm, I am one of those women, and with dark hair and lots of eyebrow, I seem to be tidying and plucking and *ouching* and yet I still seem to end up with alot of eyebrow. Since having no fringe of hair to hide behind, it's even more time consuming sorting them out. Don't even go there with keeping them even, that is a whole other post.

My Mum has the BEST eyebrows, they are just so lovely, so perfect, and she doesn't touch them. Not fair, not fair at all. Actually my Mum has such a beautiful face all over now that I think of it. She has the loveliest eyes, sort of a pretty almond shape, they turn a little 'up' at the corner, just a perfect natural shape. Her eyebrows sit perfectly evenly above her eyes, she also has dark hair, but for some reason her eyebrows are so lovely and neat and don't look too dark at all.

*Sigh* which doesn't at all help me with my little, looking-surprised-when-surprised-is-required,-keeping-out-debris-and-sweat-from-my-eyes,-eyebrows. I really don't like them very much at all, but I don't want to go saying anything too loud, otherwise they just may stop doing their job and well, you know, let in the debris and sweat, and not look surprised at that momentous surprise looking required time.

So back to the tweezers it is for me, there isn't quite enough there to take myself to the beauty parlour to get sorted, however, there is just enough that I really need to do a little 'housekeeping' if you know what I mean.

After a little research, I have not necessarily found out who is responsible, but I do now know why they are there. If you would like to delve deeper into the understandings of the quiet life of the very busy and humble eyebrow click here for the goss. For some pictures of eyebrows over the years, you can click on here, and if you are curious about a little history then here is where you need to go.

How do YOU eyebrow?