C'mon let me see you...

...shake you tail feather. Unfortunately I don't have an actual tail feather but I wish I did. It would be a glorious display of purple and turquoise plumage that shimmered in the lights on the dance floor... can you see it? It is beautiful.
They're not as cool as a tail feather, but these suede wedges do have a certain funk factor and the party I went to on Suturday night was all the better for my having treated myself to them. Finally shoe designers seem to be cottoning on to the benefits of some integrated squishiness. Unlike a few other unfortunate pairs of shoes, these babies didn't need to be hurled to the side of the dance floor. Thus keeping my tootsies looking hot and me at eye level with more people!
The party was to celebrate my brother's engagement and followed in a family tradition of collectively drinking several bevvies before turning the music up and singing offensively, tunelessly and loudly to some awesomely tasteless music. 
Imagine, if you will, a little You're the Voice by John Farnham complete with air bagpipes. Then some Tusk by Fleetwood Mac (my late Dad's favourite) with a sea of simultaneous drum solos. Sprinkled between was some Acca Dacca (time for me to head to the bar...I don't do AC/DC), a bit of Powderfinger and a brief snippet of Hendrix before someone rudely skipped to the next track. Grrrr.
Anyhow, the upshot of having partied hard enough to feel the room still spinning well into Sunday afternoon, is that I've been prompted to find a place for music in my life again. Properly.  It's been on my mind for a while and the time is ripe for change.
It feels as though, while I was having babies, changing their bums and sitting quietly praying they'd sleep long enough for me to sit and eat a meal in it's entirity, some cheeky sucker absconded with my CD collection. Gradually, as these precious offspring have grown, this imaginary thief has been slowly giving back some of my once beloved music. I have slowly been adding my old CD's to the playlist in my I-pod and rocking out in the kitchen while my daughter dances the dance of the demented duck and my son rythmically smashes hard objects on hard surfaces in an attempt at percussive brilliance. It's different to before but music seems to be coming back. Stage one, tick.
Having had a rather lenghthy (and slurred) conversation with an old friend I think it's now time to embark on stage two of finding a place for music in my life. This friend and I used to spend a lot of time discussing and listening to music. We shared similar tastes and had a mutual respect for rocking out. Since then he has stayed on the music bus, while I was unceremoniously pushed off into Mummyville. On Saturday night, he kindly asked the bus driver to pull over and let me get back on.
He reiterated a truth about the hard road I need to get on to feel exited about music again. A truth I've been struggling with for a while. A few times I've put Triple J on to hear some new tunes, only to feel them wash over me, leaving no trace. Once upon a time Triple J was a permanent aural fixture in my kitchen. I had it on while I cooked and took it with me when I retreated to my sewing/drawing room (now my daughters room). It was the only station on in the car. Ever. I even recall way back when, listening religiously to filler on the frequency that would become triple J, immediately before they hooked up the transmition to my town. It wasn't even real Triple J. It was just a loop of a few cool songs with a voice over saying "Triple J is coming, stay tuned". But it was my ticket out of commercial radio, and I was excited.
So it is, that this hard road will bring me full circle back to where I began and my friend assures me it will take a mere month of listening to the J's before the music stops washing over me and I start to get excited again. Who knows, I might even get me on to that i-tunes thingy on the intermajig and purchase some new sounds. Hey, if I can learn to write a blog, I can surely do that! I'm just not sure I'll ever feel the love for the hip hop and electro my old friend/music guardian thinks is so hip and cool and all that...

You may have already checked out my new pal Percy on the buntyandsars Facebook page, but here he is again. His wardrobe is growing and I should have it all washed, dried and ironed very soon. Well, drawn, printed and bound, to be truthful. He's a spunky little chap with a vivid imagination and with your colouring and cutting skills he'll be on the adventure of a lifetime. So, do look out for him.
After a couple of weeks, I'm still battling with some stuff called corflu (not sure of the spelling) and my designs for stands to hold my colouring range. I'm finding it difficult to work with the material and the joins are either very raw and exposed or swathed in layers of ugly tape. It's time for a rethink, if only I can move past the uninspired boredom I feel when working on this sort of thing!
I'm the kind of person to create diamonds under pressure, so the first Daylesford Makers Market looming in a couple of weeks should be enough motivation to get some awesome stands made. So please come along, it's at the Primary School for a change and will be filled with lots of excited makers after a bit of a break, so expect lots of new goodies.
Oh, and hit me with your new music suggestions, my i-pod is starting to give me dirty looks.