Crafty Time: Pirate Owl Scrapbook Page



I wanted this page to have a pirate theme. The title and the pictures are fine. I’m not so sure about my pirate owl’s. Do they look like owls? Do they look like pirate’s?  I think there is an owl punch that I could buy either online or at a craft store. I thought I could make my own owls. It doesn’t seem to be as effective as the owl punch though.

This page has potential. It might be going back to the drawing board.


The inspiration for the pirate owl’s was found on this page:

“Just a small town girl – living in a lonely world.” Concert tickets are practically essential. Musicals are the key to life. I like movies, music,books, and corny jokes.

1 Comment

  1. QP and Eye (Linda) – I was born in Kenya and sent to boarding school at the age of 5. 100 miles from home to which I returned at holiday times if my mother was well enough, if not I remained at school. The misery of those times still haunts the recesses of childhood. Happy memories of early childhood centre around an African maid, Maria, who fulfilled the role of my mother. I missed her the most when I was at school. When I was 10 the family moved to South Africa where again I was despatched to boarding school. At least I got to go home every second weekend. By that stage my parents were still bemused by their role as mother and father which caused confusion when I headed off on my own from an early age by taking control of my life. When my decisions grated against my father’s precarious set of values I felt his non-verbal disapproval. I grew up angry and rebellious which even the Catholic boarding school couldn’t ‘knock out of me’. The rosary routines, Hail Mary’s and Glory Be’s only gave me something else against which to rail. My mother totally abdicated her role as mother when I was 14, she chose to die instead of continue to fight. Was it too much to ask that she be functional and participate in the intimate relationship that family calls for. Maybe she was capable of that once but lost hope with my father’s austere ‘stiff upper lip’ approach to life. Decades later and I’m still processing the emotions that time of my life evoke. The most courageous thing I ever did was leave home at 17 and move as far away from home as I could. We’d been to Cape Town on a number of holidays and it was where I was drawn to when I booked that one way train ticket. It was one of the many turning points in my life. Things moved quickly as I found employment with a newspaper, became absorbed into a group of young people and embraced the social life to which I’d not been exposed to in my home. It was a wonderful time. The experiences of travel forever changed my perspective of South Africa and the white supremesist regime. Returning after two years absence the oppression was tangible as I entered passport and customs control. I moved into a house of young people who had strong opinions that fitted well with my new found politics. A number of nights we’d returned home to find the house had been ransacked, completely. The police had come in and searched every room in the house, the housemaid told us. She was petrified. After a second such instance I decided it was time for me to leave South Africa or become a part of the oppression, just by remaining. My silent protest, against a system I could no longer tolerate, made me look to other shores to call home. The police invasion incident left me feeling displaced and unsettled. I settled in New Zealand where I married, raised two children and worked part time in the community sector. And now I live in Australia with my husband of so many years. I fulfilled a lifelong dream of studying at university and completed a Bachelor of Social Science (Social Welfare) in 2011. One of the best experiences of my life. I now work as a drug and alcohol counsellor. I’ve had my blog for a few years now visiting it on and off to dabble with words. However, I’ve accepted the November (2013) challenge to write each day. My first job though has been to update this bio so the person you read is who I am today. In light of that I consider myself a ‘baby blogger’ but I’m committed to moving forward one dolly step at a time.
    QueasyPeasy says:

    Works for me 🙂

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