Saturday 9

1. When was the last time you cried? Yesterday. I have big holes in my life right now.

2. If you could wake up tomorrow with a new talent, what would it be? Sewing, I think. All my life, my mother wanted me to take sewing lessons. As a child and a teen, I could think of nothing more boring, but I should have listened to her.

3. Who is someone you would like to go back into your past and talk to and why? My grandmother. I miss her, I need her support and love, and answers to questions.

4. What is your favorite meal eating out? Oh, I don't know. We're pretty casual right now. A good fish & chips, maybe. Or a big cheesy pizza with all the time in the world.

5. Do you feel energized or drained by being in a group situation?  Usually energized, assuming I know the people well. If they are new to me, or I to them, then I retreat a bit.

6. What word do you use far too frequently? I am ashamed to say, I still say, "Cool." It sounds really, really stupid coming from me at this point in my life . . . but I grew up saying it and it has been really hard to stop. Besides that, probably "absurd." I am finding a lot of absurdity in the world right now, aren't you?

7. What’s a word you’ve invented? Can't tell you until the patent comes through. ;)

9. What is your absolute favorite piece of furniture you have and why? I have an art deco dressing table. It is covered entirely in beveled mirrors, with bakelite handles, three-piece mirror, and mirror-covered bench. I love it, because I like to dream and muse about who got dressed at that table when it was new, what did the room look like, where she was going, what kind of make-up did it hold, what kind of jewelry? I could spend days musing about that. Unfortunately, a small corner got broken in our last move. Anyone know of a way to restore old piece like this? Do restorers replace old mirror with old mirror?  The few I've talked to don't have any ideas. 


Happy Saturday 9!

Knit Spring

I'm really in no better mood than I was yesterday, so I will take mercy upon you all and divert attention away from myself.

I have such a fun knitting project for you!

Look at this sweet thing:

And this:

These are knit!  Felted nests.  Does it get any better?

It is a free pattern available at the designer's blog (I love this name):  After I Finish This Row . . . .  She is a wonderfully creative woman who needs to be encouraged to keep her blog current.  (That means:  she doesn't post often enough for me!)

I have made several of these nests, and it is so much fun.  (I have no pictures because of other issues that I will spare you from for the moment.)  I bought one skein of feltable brown wool and then poured all my scraps into a bowl.  (I keep them in a coffee can all year and then put them out for the birds during nest-building season.)  Always knit with the brown, but grab spare scraps and remnants and knit them in here and there as you go along.  It is so addicting and fun!  (When I get my camera downloading abilities back, I will regale you with photos of all my creations so far.)  I've even made one for my little Lester.  She has no idea what to make of it because it looks nothing like a typical, pitiful mourning dove's nest -- but nothing but the best for my girl!

  You don't know about my Lester?  Click here.

I've been having so much fun, honing my dpn skills, and using up some of those newly-useful scraps.  So pop on over to After I Finish This Row if you're interested.  

You're welcome!

A Taste of Freedom, Humiliation, and More Snow

So I haven't been off my street in several days. Snow, snow, everywhere.

With a forecast of at least another 12 inches due last night, I had to get out. I had to get somewhere, anywhere.


The minute my husband got home last night, I jumped in the van and headed to the closest thing I could think of:  JoAnn's. I took mercy upon my son and took him with me.  He hadn't been anywhere in days, either.  It had just begun to snow, but the roads weren't bad yet.  "What's the worst that could happen?"

 

We got to the store just fine.  I found my bamboo size 8 24" circular knitting needles easily, too easily, actually; I needed an "outing."  I wouldn't be out again for several days.  So we had a stroll around the store some more.

Ever the bargain hunter, I didn't stop until I found the clearance aisle. They had a bunch of those big tin stars 70% off. Those stars have never been quite my style, but I don't hate them. Honestly, I think I was desperate for something else to think about, so I went over to look at them. There were about 10 on one rack and one by itself on the other. I cleverly reached for the one by itself so as not to tangle with the rack full. The next thing I knew . . . and I still have no idea how it happened . . . they were all falling. One. By. One. Crash!  Bang!!  It sounded as if someone was banging two aluminum trash can covers together, over and over.  And then these long boards painted with rosebuds and girly sayings also began careening off the bottom shelf. No idea how or why those would even move! The noise seemed to go on forever. It was as if it was happening in slow motion.

Being that we were way in back by the employee stock room, an employee came running out of the break room still chewing her food to see what had happened. She said she thought the roof had fallen in. Ooops I focused my efforts on apologizing profusely while I helped her pick it all up.  She then went back to her dinner.

Still not to deterred from our scamper of freedom, my son and I continued shopping.  My son could hardly walk for holding his stomach from laughing so hard. The child can be quite the teaser when given some material -- no idea where he got that trait.  He was having a field day. And I couldn't really blame him; all the times we've told him not to touch things in stores.

We found a few more things to buy, and reluctantly proceeded to the check out. The checkout clerk rang everything up and suddenly I realize I left my wallet at home.  It was sitting on the desk at home (from when I needed a business card from my wallet). In my defense, I am usually fanatical about putting my wallet right back in my purse, but this one time I wasn't -- probably because I didn't think I would be going anywhere for days and days.

Well, I did have my checkbook and asked if that would be alright. Fine, as long as I had a driver's license number, the clerk said. Nope. My driver's license is in my wallet (right where it should be) only my wallet is currently at home on my desk!  I pleaded my case. The clerk said she would have to check with the manager. So she makes an embarrassing, and slightly hostile, call over the loud speaker. Who comes . . . you can guess, can't you?  Of course, the still-chewing woman from the stock room.  She turns out to be the manager. Imagine how happy she was to see me waiting earnestly and perhaps pitifully, at the register.

I again explained the embarrassing situation -- people were now, of course, gathered behind me in line -- and she refused. I offered to call home and have my husband tell it to me. Nope. Then, as nicely as I could, I implored her, it was only $35, it was not as if I was buying a sewing machine. Somehow, that changed her mind. She finally relented, but insisted I call home and have my husband read me the driver's license number (something I had regrettably offered earlier).  So, as if I am not embarrassed enough, I now must also bring my husband into the situation.  How completely humiliating. But I was not going home to face the next several days snowed under without the specific knitting needle required to make a certain felted bag that had been nagging me for days now.  Nope, I neeeeeded this stuff; it was essential.  (By this time, my son was practically rolling on the floor with smug laughter, but trying his best to hold it together because I had, by now, explained -- twice -- how this was not at all funny. anymore.  And to think I almost didn't bring him. No good deed goes unpunished.)

I finally walked out of that store with my dignity and pride battered and bruised, but I had my stuff, my bag of treasures.  I felt a peculiar mix of victory and defeat.  All just to get out of the house, once, before the next storm submerged us all in snow. again.


Now we have at least another 12 inches of snow added to the 30 from the weekend.  Everything is closed.  Everyone is at home.  No idea when the snow will stop or how where we'll put it all this time.

Good thing I've got my new bamboo knitting needles.

Art

Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time.  ~ Thomas Merton

I received this painting from Sadee Schilling the other day ~ it pays to enter those giveaways!  Isn't it beautiful?

Sadee Schilling Studio

I love it's subtle, off-beat colors and the sweetness of the image as well as the way it sets me about thinking what kind of music those birds are hearing.

Despite what all the art critics might say, I believe art to be anything that can take you outside of yourself -- your worries, your joys, your realities, your fantasies -- and bring you a moment of suspension, of newness.  High art, "low" art, crafts . . . almost anything, by this definition, may be art; it depends on the viewer, and I like the empowerment of that philosophy.

With that philosophy comes the responsibility of the individual to see art, to find art, to experience a moment of newness.  Perhaps it is more than a responsibility, but an inspiration.

 

 

Art is not a thing; it is a way.  ~ Elbert Hubbard

My Grandmother the Artist

Today is my grandmother's birthday. 

She died several years ago, but I still remember her clearly.  And the older I get, the more extraordinary she becomes.  Do you have someone in your past like that? 

She raised three children practically alone despite being married.

She did without more times than I'm sure she would admit to.  

She wrote to my father every single day he was away at war; that was 735 letters.

When she was older, she took herself to Hawaii -- alone, because it had been her dream and she couldn't find anyone to go along with her, despite being married. 

And she was an artist.  An artist who persisted without much encouragement.  I think my father was the only one who valued her work, when I was a child, at least.  Here is an example of her work, I think she'd like it if I showed it to whomever might be interested:

Of course, it's much better in person, but you get the idea.

I took my grandmother for granted when I knew her.  I was a child and, while she was certainly pleasant to me, she was not really a "kid person." 

Being a grown woman now, I finally have a full appreciation for the woman she was - extraordinary.

Hugging My Tree

This past Wednesday was an extremely windy day.  So windy, it made the dog nervous.  So windy, it blew all of the papers off of my desk; my desk does not sit near a window.  So windy, it cracked a branch on my favorite tree in our backyard.

I love that tree.  It is awkward and misshapen because it was neglected when it was young; much the same way many of us are.  Someone planted it and never paid it any more attention.  It needed pruning and more sun, but it had to march on without.  (That all happened before we lived here.)  So it looks kind of weird now.  But it's awkwardness is what I love about it.  It drapes itself over our deck and cradles us in shade on the hottest summer days.  It holds the other end of my laundry line, making it possible for me to hang laundry out while standing inside my laundry room doorway.  (The day my husband installed the pulley, I insisted he tie it around the tree, no holes would be burrowed into my tree.  She has repaid me by holding whatever I hang on that line, even on the windiest days.)

The branch that cracked was a large branch and the lowest lying one . . . the one that fancies itself an awning for our deck.  It was large enough that, had it broken completely, it would have smashed the side of the chicken coop . . . the one that has taken our family (my husband, mostly) all summer to build.  So my sweet tree held onto that branch until we could have it removed.

The tree service came today and removed that branch and gave her a little shaping while they were at it.  She looks much different; I'll get used to it.

But I can't help feeling sorry for my poor little tree.  It seems she's been through a lot this year, this cracked branch being the most recent.  A severe gnawing by a dastardly squirrel being the worst.  That darned squirrel gnawed off a section of bark bigger than a dinner plate.  All the bark is gone, down to the bare wood.  I see that spot each time I look out my kitchen window.  It looks so much like a wound.

Then I saw these pictures and got an idea:

This was the work of Carol Hummel, genius artist.  Doesn't it just make you smile?  It's all crocheted.

Now, I am no genius artist, but I am a copy cat.  And I don't know how to crochet, but I can knit.  So (you see what's coming here, don't you?), I think I am going to knit up a little cozy for my tree.  I think she could use a good hug and a little scarf for the winter.  Yep, that's what I'm gonna do.

I'm off to research a little to I don't do her more harm than good.  Then I'm going to have at it.  I have some lovely pink Peace Fleece, that just sounds right, doesn't it?

We Did It!

Whew!  I'm exhausted.  Exhausted, but . . .

Ta-Da!!

I knew the fiber goddesses -- you included -- wouldn't let me down . . .

Okay, here it is . . .

(I haven't blocked it yet -- since I've spent the better part of the day fiddling with this thing, I thought I'd better take a picture and post it before it's time to go retrieve my offspring.)  

The colors are not this deep; they are about half the intensity, which I like much better and wish I had time to correct on this photo, but time is fleeting.

It is made of out a luscious (but sadly discontinued at my LYS) Noro silk, wool, and cashmere blend.  Yum.

It is my own design, but I borrowed heavily from the "Braided Neckpiece" in Loop-d-Loop.  When I began this piece with pre-bought yarn, I was sure to have enough.  I did.  I had too much.  Too much left to waste and too little left to make anything worthy of this delicious yarn. 

So, I decided to remake the scarf/collar the way I really wanted it which would also afford me the extra yarn to make matching mittens -- one of each color, with contrasting cuffs to make it clear the do go together.  ;-) 

Whew!  All done!

Now, onto the next project . . .

This is the part my family really hates.  When they hear I am looking for a new project they all say, "Oh, no!  Head for the hills!!"  Yeah, I'm known to get a bit obsessed into it until I find something I like AND am in the mood for AND have yarn for (since I am a chronic "buy yarn I like without knowing what I'll use it for -er").  It's an interesting process.

I'll keep you posted.

In a Ball of Trouble

Stress.

Big trouble.

Oh boy.

I'm stressed today.

Sick?  No, I'm feeling better everyday, thanks.

Kids sick?  No, they're unstoppable this week, thankfully.

Money troubles?  Blessedly, not really.

Marriage?  No.  Love you, Hon.

No.  I'm talking real stress.

KNITTERS OF THE WORLD -- UNITE!!

I need the pull of our sisterhood to help me through the finishing of this scarf!

I had a bit more to go when, gah!, there is the end of the skein!  No more to buy, it was a closeout.

So quick, I'm begging you . . . light a candle, say a prayer, send out a vibe, plea to the knitting goddess . . . I need us all to pull together.

You have NO idea the problems this project has given me and I'm not ready to talk about it until it's finished.

Okay, deep breaths . . .

Stand up, stretch, look outside . . .

I feel like a surgeon stepping out of the OR to stretch my back and have a look around a moment to clear my head.

Okay, I'm going back in . . .

Hopefully, I can pull this baby through . . .

If I can't well . . . let's not even think that way.

You wait here.  Get a cup of coffee.  Put something pleasant on the community tv.  Play cards, maybe.  I'll be back when I can . . .

Knitting, Napping, and Modeling

I'm feeling better today, but still have a ways to go.  With appointments and other commitments every day beginning tomorrow, I decided to really rest up today and spent the day pretty much doing nothing.

Well, the brood got fed and off to school and work.  The non-school goers also got fed and tended to.  Then it was pretty much saltines, pills, fluids, knitting, and America's Next Top Model.  I think I watched the entire 2005 season, in between naps. 

And I'm on the last bit of a fun little scarf I'm knitting which, for some reason, seems to be taking forever.  Once it's finished, I'll show you.

I also learned various modeling proverbs such as "one's neck can never look too long," "you smile with your eyes, not your mouth," and "there is such a thing as being too pretty."  Sadly, I've never come across these proverbs in my own life. 

Oh well.

Today I can breathe, and I'll bet tomorrow I will lose the sweats.  Life is good . . . even with a short neck that's never been accused of being too pretty.

Sew Sorry

 

There is a frustrated seamstress inside me. 

I don't know how to sew. 

Despite my mother's wish that I learn to sew (she never learned and wanted better for me), I never learned to sew.

Wish I had now, but when I was a child, I thought it would be a horrendously boring way to spend a summer.

For this, I believe I have been cursed with an uncanny ability to run across the cutest sewing projects without even trying. 

And I find the cutest sewing things, too . . . spool cabinets, pretty tins for keeping thread and buttons.

I do have a pretty nice button collection . . . I have no idea why.

See?  Frustrated. 

Sew (lol! see what I did there?), anyway, I pass this easy (for you, impossible for me) project along for any of you smart people who let someone teach you to sew. 

This is the cutest lunch bag I've ever seen . . . giant alligator clip and all.

Btw, Project Runway is on tonight.  Anybody watch?  I love it.  See?  Frustrated.