I had a teacup.

A few years ago I bought the same style of cup, but in different colours, for a close group of friends. We had been through some ups and downs together – nutty parents, relationship breakdowns, work stresses. But I thought that we would always have tea (or whatever beverage happened to find its way into the cups – gin… vodka… champagne…) and be together, regardless of where we physically were. And then mine made a noise that is quite distinctive, fine bone china hitting a hard floor, a kind of pop and then scatter as the parts of it all went over the sewing space floor. I had moved some border fabric and knocked it off the cutting table. Fortunately at that moment it was empty so there wasn’t also the mess of liquid to deal with.

In the aftermath of this I have been on the search for a new cup. I thought I found the perfect one on the weekend in Sydney, but that cup turned out to be the perfect cup for someone else, not for me. It was a William Morris Strawberry Thief print in red, the perfect cup for my favourite Bear. So I will keep looking for a cup of my own.

What I suppose this lengthy narrative about the cup and the search for its replacement is all about is how we sometimes need to be patient for the right thing to come along for us. I am not getting all mumbo jumbo about ‘putting the request out to the universe and waiting for the response’ (not that kind of girl), but rather not just grabbing the first thing that comes along to replace what it was that I have lost. I do have a gap in my life for an appropriate teacup (very meta),  but it is one which will need to take me though hours of reading and writing, planning and drawing, designing and building.

Or it could just be a broken teacup that I need to replace.

Putting this into the context of my theme of the year (nurture), I am finding that I am being a bit more deliberate with what I am doing. I am heading back to planning my week, identifying what needs to be done now and what I have coming up. I am planning my holidays, I am planning to take about six weeks off from the paid job, but then spend some time doing things for the paid job. Such is the life of an academic. Fortunately I am coming to really enjoy the research component of my job, I always seem to be learning something new.

Quilting is also something of a priority. The shop is almost ready to launch (yay!) and I am feeling more confident that I am going to be able to fit all the different elements of my world together in such a way that it isn’t going to kill me/burn me out. I almost need the different elements of my world (quilting, research, writing, planning and creating) as they have something of a symbiotic relationship with each other.

Until next time.

Broken Dishes

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