Birthday card

I just had my birthday week. My birthday is always a long, drawn-out affair, unlike other people who just get the one day. When I was younger, it always fell in the long summer school holidays, and while my family weren't big on birthday parties, as I got older my friends would celebrate once school was in again. Now, I celebrate on my birthday but usually I also celebrate on the closest weekend, with my grandson, who shares my birthday, my son, who is two days later, and my daughter-in-law, who is just over a week later. (This family alone keeps the newsagents in business in January, buying birthday cards for each other!) This year, my daughter-in-law decorated a joint cake for us all - one side in pink with toy cooking utensils for us girls, the other in blue-green with a toy digger for the boys! (Wish I'd taken a photo!)

And then I received this beautiful card from my friend Kaite.
Isn't it lovely? The image is a tiny folded kimono. I am always amazed by people's skill with paper. I find paper to be a very difficult medium, steadfastly opposed to what I want to do with it. It wants to crease where I do not want creases, and fights any attempt to crease it where I do. Its friend glue is just as recalcitrant, going where I don't want it to be rather than where I do. We are just not friends. So I am always amazed and impressed when my friends produce incredible things like this, apparent with effortless ease!

Sorry, Kaite, I has too busy partying to put anything special up on the blog on my birthday. Hope I've made up for that today?

Mags, I'm intrigued about weaving on the knitting machine! Or do you mean it's the closest you ever got to weaving? I have an elderly knitting machine under the spare bed. It's lived under one or other of the beds since about 1978, when I was given it by my mother. She'd been given it by someone who knew she liked to knit, but Mum discovered she preferred knitting with needles in the time-honoured way and gave it to me. Like mother, like daughter! But somehow I just hate to get rid of it in case someone wants it sometime! Perhaps I should hand it on to my daughter in the time-honoured fashion, and she can keep it under her spare bed for thirty years. Only, she doesn't have a spare bed yet. I reckon she needs a bigger place, don't you?