Scrap Dancing

While I've been telling you I haven't found any discarded goodness recently, I've realised I have unwittingly lied. I have found discarded goodness of another kind.

Recently, while visiting a fabric shop, I discovered a garbage bin full of scrap fabric. Just strips. Tossed away without a second thought.

By now you should absolutely know that I know no shame. Waste not want not, right?! So I dutifully retrieved all the decent sized strips and even some smaller ones. And I've been adding them to the Doctor's cushion which is slowly, slowly, ever so slowly coming together. See here?

The smaller scraps are for the Doctor's crafting. To stick on cards. Or wherever he wants.

Now I can stop whining about not finding any garbage. Here ends my blog for today.

I Don't Get Out Much Pt 2

It's been months since I last scavenged some rubbish from the side of the road. Some readers may think I've gone into rehab, but I'm just starting to get the cold sweats. Hallucinations (is that a Parker sideboard in the park?!). I'm wearing tracksuits twenty-four-seven. I haven't washed my hair in weeks. Make-up..? What's that?

The cold hard facts are people, that even the rubbish has been hit by the recession.

No one is throwing anything out these days. Not even the rich people. Not even the people who inherit stuff. They're just shoving all the excess up their un-used chimney flues. They're sewing their old teddy bears into clothing. Pretty soon previously fashion-savvy business men are going to start wearing teddy bear couture as opposed to Zegna. And what about the crockery? I used to find mountain loads tossed out. Now what are they doing with it? I hate to think they're... using it. I'm blocking my ears at the very thought.

Times are tough, and you know who's feeling it the most. Me.

People. I need your rubbish. It gives me unexpected excitement. Cast your mind back to the days when I'd wait for rubbish night to go rummaging through the bin. Baying at the moon. Those were the days my friends, I thought they'd never end.

I'm like a wild hyena sniffing around in the bushes with no fresh furniture carcasses to haul back home. What's going down? What's a gal to do for fun?

I've been continuing my decluttering phase and taking some of the bin paraphernalia to the op shop. Maybe this will set things right again in the world and I will stumble across the next big haul.

PS - Image totally unrelated. Since so many of you* have been asking about the Doctor's scarf I started six years ago, here it is. Getting more scarf like by the minute. Oh and a small vintage belt buckle that I found (in a shop - doesn't count) a few weeks ago. You can't see here but a tiny, tiny, dainty diamante is in the middle. Love that inky blue.

* Read... no one. Ok ok, no one has asked about the scarf. I shake my fist!

There's Always Time For Thrifting

Even though the house was a mess, even though I was still to do a little baking, even though I still had a tiger tail to stitch, I still had to go and do a quick spot of thrifting. Duty calls!

Duty calls and booty spoils!

There was a lot of elbows in my way this weekend when searching through the goodies. People -there's plenty to go 'round. Did you leave your manners at home??

Beautiful old crockery. Check.

A matching tiny teacup and saucer with beautiful crazing. Check.

Beautiful hand covered coathangers. Check.

A knitting thingie where all my knitting as gone to...die. Check.

Some small sewing baskets. Check.

Some other old stuff. Check.

Change from a 20 dollar note. Check.

And then home in time to get it started. A party awaited.

Do You Ever Take Pets Shopping?

Tiny and I went grocery shopping today. I had been putting it off for almost a fortnight. We'd been living on rice and red beans. Not really, but it was beginning to feel that way. I managed to pry myself off the couch and go where no trolley had been before. Ok they've been there plenty of times. Let's face it. Those trolleys are dirty, heinous little creatures that stay out late and get... trollied.

Tiny and I conquering the aisles. Look at us shop. Woohooo! We're like Thelma and Louise of the supermarket. Watch us ride over the edge of the frozen section.

It was only when we got to the checkout that I realised I had inadvertently brought one of our pets with us. I saw a silverfish scuttle from one of our green bags under the scales. Yuck. I pretended I didn't see him, though he was a rather over-sized little blighter. Double yuck. Anyone got any cures for silverfish? I keep bringing them up here because they keep appearing - right here. Right in my little home. I don't dig 'em.

On a brighter note, the Doctor stayed home and hung out with my parents in law. He came back into our house hauling some mean loot. One of which was this delectable box - how gorg is that? Now I'm just figuring out how many Thomas trains it will take to switch it out and make it mine. Mwhahahaha.

Waving A Very Magical Wand: Day 18

She was right. I did succumb. I did go back and make the purchase. It wasn't until 4pm, but I gave in to the lacy daydreams, and the stitches of time long ago. Crankypants was still manning the shop but I went in. I bought that booty load of doilies and beautiful embroidery, and boy oh boy, I am so pleased I did. I've been going through the box over and over - it's all so beautiful. One woman's handiwork is this woman's treasure. How could anyone just give this up to the op-shops? I will never know, but I am so glad they did.

Today I'm doing some work 'things' so I am out all day and the smalls are staying with my kind sister who has volunteered to babysit for me. I'm particularly excited because I have two hours break - so my lover (read: my husband) and I are going on a lunch date. We've not been on a date in yonks, so I can't wait to dazzle him with my charm and wit (or really just eat a sandwich together and loll about in the sunshine).

Back to something interesting. Here are just part of the loot I scored.

And in case you ever wonder, I do give back to the looting fairies. I just put a whole bunch of stuff out on the street for council collection tomorrow. I hope someone gets into it and finds some treasure.

PottyMouthMama: Bin-Raider

Last night I set off at 8:30pm. I left it late so that all the neighbours would be tucked up in their little houses doing what all neighbours do. Eating dinner, watching re-runs of Wheel of Fortune and listening to their children crying on and off until they finally succumb to sleep. Oh that's just me that does that, well hmph!

I drove up again, just in case it was another large stash and I needed the boot space (amidst some prams, green bags and a smattering of sand toys) to hide the haul. I got out of my car. Firstly, here's my mistake. I didn't check to see who was around. When I hopped out, I was holding a torch. I was wearing a hoodie. There was a man, 60 or so putting his bins out, who stopped to watch me. Checking out what this hoodlum was doing. I was like some crazed deer stuck in the headlights. What could I do to meld with the 'hood? I looked at my mobile. Hindsight tells me this probably looked even dodgier. I then popped the boot - I was freaking out because he was standing there watching me (I hadn't even gotten close to my bin yet), touched a few things in the boot and popped my torch in there. I don't need to explain that right then, my brain stopped working. I then walked down the road, away from the bin, away from my car, and away from the staring man. What was I going to do? Who knows. I waited 'til he walked up his driveway then I returned to the car and drove off home. My heart was pounding a little too hard.

Matt was surprised I came home so quickly. So empty-handed. I recounted the story. I watched the end of my movie (watch it, but the book is brilliant, and you'll read it in half a day and never, ever forget it, I've read it a number of times, and it's amazing each read) and then went back out at 10:10pm.

I figured by this time the driveaway dude would be tucked up in bed watching his stocks plummet while his wife ironed his socks.

I decided to make a quick kill. Bin number 1 - paper recycling - full, but my friends, I just couldn't be bothered. If the treasures hadn't floated to the top, I just wasn't going to get into it. Call it tiredness, call it laziness, or call it lack of mojo, whatever - I seem to be losing my will to dive. Bin number 2 - glass/metal/plastic recycling - some cut glass...in amidst poison bottles. There was no way my un-gloved hands were going that-a-way.

And then there was the cherry. Another gleaming white skip in the driveaway. A big 'un. I stood in the street wondering if I should chance it. It's now that I realise I have forgotten to tell you one important point. There was a light on in the kitchen. A booby trap? Were they peering out from their windows just waiting for me? I figure that because it's just the kitchen light, that perhaps it was accidentally left on. I sidle down the driveaway a wee bit, comfortable that my mother-in-law (who recently received honours in law) has told me it's not trespassing until you get to the front door (I may have that wrong - so don't blame me if you get busted). Peer into the bin. It was dark outside. Oh so dark. But with a full moon rising, I could see the skip was completely empty.

I might tell you now that this was a relief. I know. You're probably shaking your head at me. Relief that there was nothing? Yes, it's true. How much excitement can one take? Not much more! The adventures of me and my bin are adrenaline pumping, but is my wee heart going to give out one day because I find... vintage tea towels, pillowcases, costume jewellery, oversized Jackie O style sunglasses still in their box and a yellow bedside table (these are on my wish list to find, ok??), who knows. I'm not sure how much longer I can keep this up.

To be honest, I am more than a little peeved with these people. How many people have had enjoyment from reading about my escapades, me with my torch riding into the sunset? Lotsa lotsa. My family ring me the next day to find out what I found. It's a given. But these people, emptying this house, a room at a time - well they could have given all this stuff to charity stores and as well as making some collectors very happy, they could have helped a charity along the way. But instead - they've tossed everything in a massive skip and sent it to landfill.

Don't get me wrong. I am very grateful. But all that crockery that they've tossed, someone would have loved it. Me, probably.

Hearing me?

Anyway, in the event that I didn't find anything, I went op shopping* beforehand. I will have to photograph a few more things, but here are two (albeit crummy photos) for tonight.

This crazy looking sugar bowl that Matt finds mildly disturbing.

And this pink creamer. That funny little vase in the background was another thing that the bin provided me in an earlier loot.

* Op shops = opportunity shops - charity shops - money you spend goes to the charity.

You Know What Night It Is

And I still haven't gotten 'round to showing you all of my loot. Here's the rest of it. The round up.

Lucky for Matt our wedding anniversary wasn't tonight, otherwise instead of wining and dining with him, I would have been diving into a bin. Romantic? Not so much.

So tonight. Bin night. I have a hunch there's not going to be much. Maybe some empty chip packets. Maybe an old takeaway container. But gosh. I really hope I'm wrong.

But just in case I am wrong, I went to the op shop and picked up a couple of beauties. I'll show and tell tomorrow.

Show and Tell: Here's the Loot

this cute little 'wallet' that contains a notepad, pencil and pack of unopened playing cards, from tasmania!

Finally I am here with photos to show. Finally I hear you breathlessly sigh. You've been waiting, haven't you? Sorry. We had a sunshine filled weekend and I didn't want to touch the loot because, well truth be, I felt a little guilty.

Thursday night I drove up to the house to discover that there was one lone bin out on the street - the green bin. Full of sticks. Pattern?

I felt a bit miffed. I know that house is full of the goods. I know it because when I went and knocked on the door that day, I saw through the window. It's full to the gills. I know I sound like a wee bit of a stalker, but how can you be a stalker with two small fry in tow? You can't. They need sleeps, you need mental health time, you need to mop the floor, you need to cook dinner, I'm no stalker, unless you count stalking old stuff as stalker. Then well yeah, I could have been SWF but really I'd be MWFWTK (that's Married White Female With Two Kids).

I was turning the car around, despondent, when I spied the bin to triumph all bins. The gigantic white skip. Gigantic. Not your normal size skip. It was plus size with a capital P. Not satisfied with a bin full of sticks, I got out of my car. Wary. Was this a trap? You see, it wasn't on the street, I would have spotted that a mile away. It was in their driveway, I could see it was FULL! This was like the motherload to the power of the motherload. And then some.

I snuck in with torch in hand. Gloves in pocket. Mobile in other pocket (in case I got into some trouble in the clink and they'd only give me one phone call - well I could arrange other phone calls on my mobile). All the while I kept in the back of my mind that my mother-in-law has just graduated with honours from a law degree. Handy when you're crawling around someone else's backyard in pitch black rifling through their garbage, yes?

So there I was. Every time a car drove past, I ducked. As though they had some security company/police on speed dial. I am pretty sure there's no one there. The house is always dark. But still, paranoia persists, so I duck. Ready to roll, and rehearsing scenarios in my head. Sheesh, this was stressful. Each time I go back I am sure someone is going to pounce on me, I heard rustling I was sure it was the neighbour peeking at me. In actual fact, it was probably just a possum or a local cat. I'd turn my torch on, find something, pull it out, then torch off. Over and over again. I found gorgeous old crockery -but because they had tossed it into the skip, it had great cracks through it. Sad. But at last I had gathered a small pile. I loaded it into the car. I drove home. Tingling.

After a little while, and some consultation with my sister and Cindy from bugandpop, I conned Matt into coming with me - on the proviso that he wasn't going to come to the bin, he was only the driver. Spicy huh? Like this time I had myself my very own getaway vehicle. Does this make him an accessory to the crime? Gosh I hope so. I don't want to sit in the cell alone.

I ran back in, with unbridled confidence - like I was born to do this. Scavenge through other people's trash. What a calling! I looted like there was no tomorrow. I got a few more things. Kept hiding in the darkness when cars went past. Piled my stash up and made my way back to the car, then - fell in a hole twisted my ankle, ouch! Matt was sitting in the car - half in shock, maybe half in awe - that I just picked myself up hobbled to the boot loaded the stuff in, and then went straight back to the skip. That's show business folks, on with the show.

But all the while, in the back of my head - I was thinking, my goodness, I am about to get arrested for being in this yard with a torch and rubber gloves. Imagine telling people that. The next day, sore ankle and very sore back - but loads of goodies to sort through.

This is it. This is my loot for the week.

I'll post my pics tomorrow.... Yes, there's more!

Uh Oh

If you've never been to pottymouthmama before - welcome. But might I suggest you do some back reading before you proceed. I suggest you start here.

Otherwise:

The Night Hunter Skips

Will you bail me out? Pitch black. Skip bin. Full. Delights. Tins. Crockery. Suitcases. Stuff. Things. Cushions. Placemats. In. Their Yard.

Trespassing?

Someone Was Already There - Chronicles of a Garbage Bin

stool stylist's own

So when I arrived to see my beloved bin last night, I had come ill-prepared. I had forgotten my torch. I had a quick look at the bin but couldn't see anything by the dim moonlight, so I drove home and decided to wait an hour or so to darken up the night sky and go a little more incognito, and also to be a little more prepared. I jumped back in the car and drove* home.

When I got home my husband was surprised to see me empty-handed. I quickly explained that I did have to go back out, the deed was not yet done. I think he was secretly relieved when I returned empty-handed, those thoughts were quickly turned on their head.

At around 8:08pm I set out. Please note it's here that I feel all CSI-like, you have no idea how much this thrills me. Being a little more prepared I had packed some gloves and my torch. I could have taken a brush to take some prints off that bin and look for any epithelials. Get the feeling now I watch Grissom a little too closely? Hmm, if you knew that I called Sunday evening CSI Sunday you may be a little concerned. But you don't know that, so you don't have to worry.

When I got back to the bin - someone else was already there. I had just flipped open the lid and removed one black plastic garbage bag full of loot. I was about to reach in and retrieve a most fantastic 'Air India' suitcase when I saw him. I was more than a little startled. It was pitch dark. I had nothing more than my torch, a pair of latex gloves and my mobile in a pocket. For a moment I contemplated calling my husband. He was only two minutes away. I was feeling really, really anxious. I actually think I can say, that is a complete understatement. It was dark, there was just me, the garbage bin and him.

The biggest, fattest, hairiest huntsman ever. And then some. Eight hairy legs. Two beady eyes. Oh it just sends chills down my spine. And he wouldn't move.

If you're a long time reader of pottymouthmama you might already know that I am a little more than afraid of these. This week, we've already had one in our bedroom that Matt failed to evict, only for me to find hiding in the curtains the next day. Deeee-lightful.

Anyway. Fat huntsman. Me. Garbage bin. Suitcase. Metal things. Darkness. Can't see properly. I try and flick the huntsman off. Nope. Not budging. He was fat, seriously fat (probably a female). I really should be presented with a very large, very shiny bravery award. There was just no way I was leaving that suitcase for a spider. No way. So I flicked it a bit more* and then it finally retreated. To the other side of the suitcase. I grabbed the handle and threw the suitcase onto the footpath. I was about to pick up the suitcase and pop it into the car - when who should I spy right next to it? Yes, you guessed it - the fat hunstman.

By this stage I already had the garbage bag in the boot. I had torn it open to ensure I wasn't taking home someone's dentures, enema kits etc, and to my great surprise I found this cute little eggcup. Not that I use eggcups, but he's definitely cute - and has a very old David Jones sticker on his derriere. And the little pup with chipped off ears - dogfight anyone?


Once in the safety and light of my own home, I tore into the bag. I found this old cat clock - his eyes move - so cute. This little shelf that I've cleaned up, along with some vials of sand, an old Indian, this creepy little dolly in the bag - Laura Palmer?!
This little tribal doll. With real fur. Hmm. Must be pretty old the fur is disintegrating. Tasty.
If you fancy that little doll in the zip bag (a keyring!) please let me know. It's yours.

Who knew a bin could make someone so happy? Will it continue to rain gifts on me? Will the relationship with the bin last? Or is it just a fling? And just why did the people tossing all this stuff out ignore pottymouthmama's note she left in the mailbox? Find out next week when you tune into pottymouthmama.


* No spiders were harmed during the looting of this bin.

One More Sleep

'Til I discover whether the bin is full of dust or diamonds..

Dust or diamonds people.. That's what it's down to.

I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight. I'm the one on the corner wearing some leaves in my hair and some camoflage, commando rolling around the neighbourhood.

PS - Hi Mum! Happy Birthday!

Those Who Thrift Together, Stay Together (How to Manage a Husband When Op Shopping)

So our first full day here. What did it hold in store for us? For me? Well, given I missed the bin, I decided to hit the oppies hard. I left the kidlins with their adoring Ollie (my Mum) which was rare. I love being able to go op shopping without the smalls, for the simple reason, it's easier to go fast without going crazy!

First stop and before midday, I sent the cash registers spinning with a grand total of $11 spent. Whoa Nelly. I am a crazy cat. Two awesome blouses for $2 each - and they both fit perfectly. Totally, absolutely, 100% perfectly. Can you feel the joy? Two small water karafes for a phenomenal $3. Some pillowcases. A chocolate brown clutch.. Oh gosh, it was like opening Pandora's Box if she'd been into vintage goodies instead of wreaking havoc on people.

After lunch I hit the shops again. This time I had my husband in tow. What kind of husband wants to come to the op-shops? Mine! I had to manage this, so I gave us a maximum of five minutes in each shop. I didn't feel the heat. No siree. I'm a seasoned op shopper and know which sections will hold the most fruit. So many vintage sheets, pillowcases, and aprons to pick up.

Matt came out empty handed, disbelieving that I had managed to pick up so much in such a short amount of time. He was also scoffing out how we were actually going to get all this stuff home, in light of the fact that our car was completely chockers driving up.

Am I the only one talented enough to completely fill the car with absolutely everything before heading off? I'm guessing it's a Mum thing. Gosh I am hoping it is, otherwise I have no explanation (other than it must be hereditary). Every trip away I can guarantee I get hassled by Matt for how much stuff we're taking. Hmph.

Third op shop and this one is usually the banana in Carmen Miranda's hat. While I did find a cool piece of fabric and a sweet little crochet piece, there wasn't that much fruit to be eaten here. Maybe it had been harvested already. Who knows, but it wasn't like I was disappointed. We still had one to go - so off we trot, Matt still hoping he was going to find something exciting.

We rolled up to the final oppy for the day. We got out. I still was optimistic. There's nothing like the quiet thrill of country op shops. No. Nothing. All that pre-loved goodness just waiting to go to a new home. Hmm. We walk up to the door - and boooooom! A big fat sign tells us they close at 2:50pm. A big fat reminder that we're not in the city anymore Toto. We had arrived at 3:05pm. Oh the pain. The heart ache. It was almost as bad as fretting for my bin.

Fear not. It's open at 8:30am tomorrow. And guess who's going to be staking it out.

Tomorrow more pics of the loot.

Day 13:: Meeting The Fatherload (or Lightning Does Strike Twice or Close Your Eyes If You Just Don't Want To Know What This Girl Found Next)

Day 13: We've been thrust back into wintery weather. It's cold. It's grey. It's raining. Not exactly enticing for an evening walk unless you're a slug or a snail. Given I am neither, I was thinking of skipping out on Day 13. You'd never know the difference.

But I knew there was a cat in Melbourne that I had told I was doing this 21 days thing. If I didn't go, he might go off his Snappy Tom, and that would never do. A promise is a promise, and so I walked. Just a short 20 minutes, I couldn't get too cold in that time. Off I trotted with my seeds hidden in my pocket.

I scouted for patches of dirt that would make a nice home for some new flowers. I picked up a stick to help me in my venture. But every spot I saw didn't seem to suit. I finally came down a hill, found a quiet little alley and roughed up the earth, sowed a few seeds, covered them back up and resumed my walk.

It's in this street that I discovered the motherload. I hadn't really thought much of that place. I was trying to go cold turkey. I didn't have that ache in my bones telling me to go back, and my husband is averse to me collecting any more 'things'. But something drew me back.

I still held my seed packet tightly in my hand, my stick in the other. I noticed that outside that house there was a wheelie bin. Just a small one, standing guard at the end of the driveway. Surely not. No, there'd be nothing in it but a few old wrappers, a few dustballs, maybe even a hairball if I was super unlucky.

Obviously, I was feeling lucky punk. I flicked open the lid with my seed planting stick. Lo and behold what met my eyes was like gold! If I had found the motherload last week, then surely this was the fatherload. Is there such a thing? Well there certainly is now.

Piles and piles of old crockery. Strangely, I have been wanting for a very long time, a mix 'n' matched, hotch potch of crockery for everyday use. And only this week I'd been thinking that our dinnerset was pretty well over red rover. It's all chipped. It's all marked. It's just ugly and it's not a joy - but Matt uses that stuff for mixing paints - so it's not like I was going to ever just boom toss it out.

So I picked out a pile of this crockery. Lovely old patterns. Not a chip. No siree not a chip. I hot footed it home with about six plates in my hot little hand, to be greeted by my husband with a quizzical look plastered on his face.

"Where did you get those?"

"Someone's garbage bin."

- He screws his face up. I go put them straight into the sink. Can you feel the love tonight?

I had dinner, got the kiddlies into the bath, and headed out (see a theme here?) - again with torch in hand. I went through as much as I could. I probably should have worn gloves - but in all my flustered excitement, I just didn't bother.

If there's anyone living there - they're now thinking - my goodness, this crazy hobo lady is back. With a washing basket. Emptying our bin into her car.

Sadly a fair bit below the plates was smashed. So I didn't go beyond that. I couldn't very well upend the bin on the road. I was tempted to bring the whole bin home with me, and return it when I had gone through everything under the pale light of our garage. Now wouldn't that be a sight?

So this is it. Close your eyes. Hold your breath. The fatherload.

Do the mother and the fatherload have children? We can only hope.

PS - I know it's illegal - but have you ever heard of anyone being arrested for stealing garbage? Not me. Can you imagine my mug shot? I'd be the most excited person in history having found this loot.

PPS - Curlypops, go hard this weekend. The garbage is your oyster - now found the pearls.