Vocabulary and Extra Credit

I am a big fan of spell check. While I consider myself a decent speller, I rely on spell check to catch my errors. I even use spell check before I send out emails - not all the time, but most of the time - which I suppose makes me a nerd. Three little words quicken my heart: "No misspellings found". Quite often though, words that I use on a regular basis pop up as potentially misspelled words, for example, blogging. Do I mean "blagging" the computer asks me? Blagging? What in the world is blagging? So I googled it.

blag·ging
n. Caribbean
Informal talk, usually among men, occurring in a public place: "the street corner, the rum shop, the crossroads, wherever hanging out, or . . . blagging, takes place" Roger D. Abrahams.
[From French blaguer, to talk through one's hat, from blague, bladder, pouch, of Germanic origin, ultimately from Latin bulga, leather bag; see bulge.]

Well I'll be. Perhaps blogging and blagging have something in common after all, though in my experience blogging is usually among women (not to exclude my male readers, but you are the minority) in private places, from a computer at home (though I'm sure we wouldn't mind blogging at the rum shop if it had wi-fi).

To be quite honest, I haven't really been in the blagging or blogging mood lately. The weather has been so nice this week that I have been spending as much time as possible soaking up the sun. Yesterday I spent several hours laying on my front porch; it is made of brick and gets direct sunlight in the winter. Avery even brought me a pillow and painted my toenails while I rested. I'm sure my neighbors found my behaviour curious, but I felt too good to care.



My kids followed suit and set up camp on the grass with blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals. Perhaps this afternoon we'll move our lounging to the backyard; the hammock is beckoning me.

I've also been busy blessing my home (a fly lady euphemism for cleaning). Not real exciting, no pictures to share, but I have gone to bed with a clean kitchen three nights in a row and I'm happy to report that my dryer and laundry baskets are empty, our clothes washed and put away. I've also been tackling my hot spots, and ran across a paper I have been hanging on to that I could use some help with.



We brought this challenge home from the science fair a few months ago and have been unable to solve it, much to my nerdy dismay. I'm thinking that a hand made goody awaits the person who can help me solve this puzzle. Email me with your answer: mollydunham@sbcglobal.net.

Enjoy Leap Day tomorrow; I'll see you in March.

Perspective

I was not a cool kid. My parents may beg to differ, but they are parents and by nature biased. Today, though, I realized that my kids might actually be cool, and not just in a proud, biased mom sort of way. We took the kids up to Donner Ski Resort today, and as we were walking through the parking lot, I saw some teenage girls looking at Aidan, with his baggy snow pants, wool sweater, Spiderman sunglasses, snowboard tucked under his arm, walking with a slight swagger, and I heard them say, "He is sooo cute!"

Then I took this picture of Avery while we were waiting for our lift tickets.



My cool kids. They even make me feel cool.



I had a different dose of perspective this morning. I have had the fly lady buzzing around in my head lately, and I have been taking baby steps toward eliminating the CHAOS in my life. I know I said last month I was going to embrace the clutter, I'd just like to embrace a little less of it. So last night, I took an extra ten minutes in the kitchen and actually scrubbed the dirty pots and pans that I would have otherwise let soak overnight. And then I took another five minutes and dried and put away the dishes that I would have otherwise let air dry until I needed them again. Then I wiped down the counter tops, buffed them with a clean, dry rag, and merrily skipped out of my clean kitchen (cool, huh?). What a joy it was to wake up to a sparkling clean kitchen, without dishes waiting to be cleaned or put away; clean counter tops with plenty of room for the toaster AND the crock pot to be out at the same time as I made breakfast AND dinner.

I beamed. Then I gloated, asking George if he had noticed how clean the kitchen was. He replied, "Yes. It made me kind of sad last night when I got home. Like no one lived here. Or like Martha Stewart lived here." My funny honey. Perhaps I'll leave out one dirty dish tonight, just so he knows I still live here.

Vacation is...

catching up on some yard work between storms,

eating Triple Chocolate Klondike bars in front of the fire while watching movies on the laptop,

playing games with family and friends,

finishing one project and starting another,

making a cup of coffee,

having an extra set of hands on a field trip,

drinking real root beer and eating pizza at the brewery.

Today is the last day of our vacation. George is blessed with six weeks off every year, which he takes in one or two week intervals. Sometimes we pack our bags and hit the road when he is off, but my favorite vacation destination is home. All of us together, having fun, staying up late, sleeping in, catching up, making plans for our next vacation in May. Perhaps it will be warm enough to camp. Or maybe a few nights in the city. Or maybe we'll just stay home.

Come Monday evening, when George is back on the clock, I'll be singing this song, missing the 24/7 presence of Daddy.

I'll keep my clothes on, though. It's pretty chilly around here, especially when George isn't home to keep the fire blazing.

Now You See It, Now You Don't

George is on vacation this week and busy completing various projects around the house. He finally finished our computer hutch! The computer finally has a permanent home, and it is not in the corner of our bedroom. Having the computer in our bedroom made me feel like a college student all over again, and not in a good way; rather like the claustrophobic feeling of having all of your possessions confined to one small room. Also transporting me back to college (and pre-college days), but in a good way, is my new Pandora station. I forgot how much I used to enjoy The Sundays, Lisa Loeb, The Jesus and Mary Chain, The Cranberries. It's all coming back now - those days of driving around in my first car, listening to cassette tapes over and over and over.

It is cold and overcast (hence the bad lighting in the pictures above). We missed the eclipse last night due to the cloud cover. My fingers are freezing as I type, so it is either time to make another cup of tea, stand in front of the fire or do some dishes to warm up. Especially before my fingers really get cold when we go ice skating this afternoon. I have a feeling my hands (and my bottom) will spend some time on the ice because I've never ice skated before. I'll try to take some pictures so we can laugh about it together.

Kiss Me by Sixpence None the Richer is playing. I think I will go and kiss my cabinet maker.



Update: The Pandora station just got better... ah, The Smiths. Definitely a thumbs up on that one. Marjorie might gag, but I bet Jerry would agree.

Scarface

Aidan has a little scratch on his nose. We keep our legos in a wicker picnic basket (courtesy of Auntie G-ma) and Aidan was digging deep for a specific lego piece and scratched his little nose on the edge of the basket. One night while getting ready for bed, I offered to put some ointment on it to help it heal, but he said, "No Mom, it makes me look tough!" Then he smiled as he examined his relection in the mirror.

One thing you are sure to get from kids is a different perspective. Here I was, worried about healing and scarring, and he was feeling pretty good about his newly acquired injury. Taking pride in his battle scars, even if the battle was with a picnic basket. I too have a scar on my nose, a bump that appeared when I was a teenager - perhaps the remnant of a battle with adolescent acne, though I don't know for sure how I acquired the bump. Avery noticed it for the very first time the other day. I was so surprised that she hadn't noticed before.

The truth is, we are all flawed. Scratches, bumps, stretch marks, birth marks. From the second we are born, we are like blank canvases waiting to be filled with tell-tale signs of injuries, accidents, natural disasters. My son made me see these blemishes not as flaws, but as marks of beauty, worthy of pride and admiration. They make us different, they tell a story, they are landmarks on our personal maps. Some go away, some are here to stay. Whether Aidan's scratch heals without a trace or leaves a scar, we are enjoying it while it lasts.

I have been experimenting with my new camera. I am not a big fan of flash photography, but sometimes it is a necessary evil. While I prefer the first picture of Aidan, taken without the flash, I was surprised by how well the picture taken with the flash captured the color of his eyes (though not of his skin tone). His eyes are truly hazel. And a little bloodshot. Any tips about flash photography out there? I'd love to hear from you.

Repurposed Fingerless Gloves

I mentioned last month that I had a few more felted wool sweater projects up my sleeve. Well, this project is right off the sleeve. Fingerless gloves made from the sleeves of purposely (and accidentally) felted sweaters.

I made the pair above for my mom, who works in a cold office but still needs use of her fingers. She has knit several pairs of fingerless gloves as gifts, and even though she can knit a pair in a weekend, I am proud to say the fingerless gloves I made for her took me 30 minutes, tops.

Simply trace a pattern using the intended recipient's hand, allowing a little extra room around the edges for comfort. Turn the sleeve of the sweater you are using inside out, place the pattern above the cuff (if the sleeve does not have a cuff, determine the size of cuff desired and place the pattern above the intended cuff). Trace the pattern in chalk and sew along the chalk line between the fingers and thumb.

Cut the top of the thumb at the chalk line,

and the space between the fingers and the thumb.

Turn the gloves inside out. I used a rather tight sleeve for this pair of gloves, hence the bunching between the fingers and thumb. To reduce the bunching and create a more fluid and flexible seam, place the thumb at a greater angle to the body of the glove.

If desired, crochet a decorative edge around the top. I simply slip-stitched around this pair for Avery using crochet yarn and a small crochet hook.

I also made a pair for the little boy next door (modeled below by Aidan) without any decorative stitching. His poor little hands get cold when digging in the dirt, but he still needs his fingers for whatever it is boys do with their fingers - pick up worms, pick their noses, etc.

And that's it! A fast, easy and functional use of felted sweaters; speaking of which, sniff, sniff, I accidently shrunk two of my favorite sweaters in my haste to catch up on laundry this weekend. So I promptly ran to the thrift store and found three more.

In other news, I finally created a three column template that I am happy with. Third time is a charm I suppose. And just in case you were wondering about the picture in my new banner, we are currently on puddle patrol around the yard, trying to eliminate breeding grounds for mosquitos before they really get busy, and this was a puddle in the bottom of our red wagon.

The Noticing Project has me looking in unusual places for unexpected images.

Half Past Seven

I don't often pay attention to the date, but this morning as I was catching up on a few days worth of dirty dishes (one of the many down sides of being sick), I realized it was February 16, which means Miss Avery is officially 7 1/2.

So what does a 7 1/2 year old girl do? She reads blogs, decorates virtual rooms and watches episodes of i-Carly online, reads about other girls' embarassing moments in the American Girl magazine.


She tries to hypnotize her brother.

She reads cookbooks. This morning she made brownies, all by herself.

She recommended that we laminate some of our favorite recipes and hang them on the wall in the kitchen.

She wanted to help George paint today, so she made herself a smock out of a garbage bag by cutting a neck hole and arm holes.

She really stepped up to the plate this past week while I was sick, making breakfast for herself and her brother, bringing me water, taking pictures for me so I could keep up with my picture a day goal.

It's not so easy to watch my baby grow up so fast, but my oh my she is growing up beautifully.

More Please

Vitamin C
Another cup of tea
A box of See's
A few extra z's

Many thanks to my sweetheart for making all of the above possible (though the candy is from his dad - a Valentine's Day tradition). While George is shuttling the kids around this afternoon, I'm actually making dinner. Believe it or not, I miss my own cooking. Nothing fancy, just chicken with lots of garlic, roasted potatoes, and broccoli with cheese. And if all goes well, we will have our first drawing class tonight after I surprise the kids with new sketchbooks. I actually sketched a bowl of peeled potatoes sitting on a cutting board today to warm up my rusty drawing skills.

And maybe, just maybe, repurposed fingerless gloves for tomorrow.

The Easiest Bag In The World

This is one of the best projects out of the Martha headquarters I've seen in quite a while. It is a bag made from a t-shirt. All you need is a cotton tee, a pair of scissors, and the ability to sew a straight line. I was fortunate to find these two t-shirts for 33 cents a piece at the thrift store. The black one is my favorite - "Five a Day" (as in fruits and veggies) in Spanish. Go here for very easy directions, and you will be sporting a brand new bag (and extra room in your t-shirt drawer) the next time you go shopping.

In other news, it is in the seventies today and I have the chills. We are probably the only house in the neighborhood with smoke coming out of the chimney and a mommy piled with blankets. My week of repurposing may be repurposed into next week. I just broke it to George that I will be talking him through (in a barely audible whisper) the making of split pea soup and cornbread for dinner tonight. Poor guy would much rather make me a new cabinet, or probably even a t-shirt bag, than enter the unknown realm of my kitchen. Wish him luck. I'll see you when my fever goes down.

Following My Passion

Saint Valentine had passion. Whether it was about marriage, romance or the treatment of Christians in Ancient Rome, he followed his passion to his doom. In honor of those that have followed their passion regardless of consequences, I will be sharing my passion with you this week: Repurposing.

It is certainly not revolutionary or exclusive, and fortunately it will not send me to the stake. Repurposing certainly keeps me busy with projects, inventing and experimenting with new ideas, saves me money, and makes me happy. I suppose I have been interested in repurposing old materials for quite sometime, but only recently realized that it may just be my passion, my form of expression, my medium.

Whether it was Molly Ringwald's repurposed prom dress in Pretty in Pink, or Punky Brewster's skirt made from neck ties, creating something new with something old has been my mission since I was a tween. I wasn't always successful, and many of my ideas didn't work or never came to fruition (like the full length, strapless black ball gown I was convinced would look better as a mini dress that I ended up throwing away when I moved out of my parent's house), but the last few years I have had more success. To kick off this week of passion, here are links to the repurposed projects I have already posted on my blog:

Stars in a Jar


Baby Overalls turned Clothespin Holder
Ziploc Bag Dryer
Mittens made from Repurposed Wool


Teacup Pincushion

Stick Stars

Well, there are a few of my more successful attempts at repurposing. I don't think I have ever dug through my archives so deep. As you may have realized, I am terrible at labeling posts (which is terrible for archiving). Perhaps I just have an aversion to labeling, but I will start a new label for repurposing. I will be posting several more projects this week, and hopefully more projects in the future as they come to me. If you too are a repurposer, I would love to hear about your projects (because, like you, I need more).

And by the way, I had a beautiful weekend. The headache finally went away, the sky was clear, the kids were happy (especially when Grandma and Grandpa came bearing gifts), and I realized I have a wonderful "network" of friends. Thank you all for your kind comments, wise words and well wishes.

Everyday Cannot Be Beautiful

Because sometimes you have a headache. And around noon you realize that bedtime is impossibly far away and you worry that you may not make it. And you think you may never see the bottom of your laundry basket or your kitchen sink, yet you found the bottom of your mocha and your patience way too fast. You think that reading beautiful blogs might cheer you up, but they only make your day seem even less beautiful by comparison. So you grab your camera and press the shutter button a few times, hoping to capture a pixel or two of the fleeting beauty that does exist in your day.


And you allow your children to watch a few more episodes of their favorite show because you know it will make bedtime come a little sooner. And you take a Motrin and pray for a beautiful weekend.

I've Got My Wool To Keep Me Warm

I have to admit, I didn't get the whole wool thing until a few years ago. When I attended a crafting group of mostly Waldorf moms, I just really didn't understand their fascination with wool. I grew up thinking it was rather itchy and prone to pest problems.

Now, I get wool. I get it whenever I can. When I found three yards of unblemished wool at the thrift store for $2.50, I snatched it up. I was a little nervous that the man next to me looking for wool with which to line the ceiling of his van-turned-home-by-the-river was going to beat me to it, but fortunately he went for a different remnant in shades of black and blue (not my color scheme, but I'm sure it looks great in his van).

The problem with bringing such a large piece of fabric home is what to do with it, and more importantly, when. I certainly didn't have room to store it long term (due to all the other great fabrics for which I provide shelter), so I decided to make a throw similar to Erin's, using Molly's pattern.


I used remnants of fabric (from the same thrift store trip) to piece together the binding. The blanket measures 54x54, so I used two strips each of six different fabrics, each strip measuring 4 inches by 19 inches, except the first and last strip which I cut two inches longer just in case and to give myself enough room to join the binding.

I enjoyed the project so much, in fact, that I am currently making another throw out of the remainder of the wool using more remnants for the binding (yay! to using up my stash to make room for new fabric finds). I am now at the tedious stage of binding by hand. The wonderful thing about binding a wool blanket this time of year is that you can drape it over your legs (watch out for the pins) and stay deliciously warm while slip stitching away.

Now and Then

Now
and then.

Now and then, my children remember things they used to do. "Mom, remember when I used to sit in the sink when I was a baby?"

Now and then, I look at pictures of my kids when they were younger and I miss my babies, oh so much.

Now and then, I write about something that reminds you of something from your past. My now intersects with your then, and that, my friends, is the real present.

Have A Heart

I love that song by Bonnie Raitt. When I was pregnant with Avery, I saw Bonnie in the Whole Foods store in Mill Valley, shopping for produce. I tried very hard not to stare, but it was way cool.

Also way cool are these little pins we have been making. I know you need another project like a hole in your head, or should I say heart, but I promise these are fast, easy, and not very messy (unless you ask a five year old boy to make one with you - they just don't have the dexterity to work with seed beads).

One of Avery's favorite color combinations right now is brown and pink. Brown seed beads are not easy to come by, but I found them at the third store, and it was worth the search. They look like chocolate (speaking of which, I just made a chocolate cake that required three sticks of butter - someone come help me eat it, please).

Here is the chart we made, based on an 11x11 grid (eleven beeds fit snug on a medium safety pin), and the written pattern to accompany the graph. Bead A is the background, bead B is the heart.

Pin 1: 11 A
Pin 2: 2 A, 4 B, 5 A
Pin 3: 1 A, 6 B, 4 A
Pin 4: 1 A, 7 B, 3 A
Pin 5: 2 A, 7 B, 2 A
Pin 6: 3 A, 7 B, 1 A
Pin 7: 2 A, 7 B, 2 A
Pin 8: 1 A, 7 B, 3 A
Pin 9: 1 A, 6 B, 4 A
Pin 10: 2 A, 4 B, 5 A
Pin 11: 11 A

You will work from the top to the bottom of the heart, from right to left, so the heart hangs down from a large safety pin. As I finished each safety pin, I attached it to the larger pin, through the hole at the bottom (now the top), winding the pin through the coil at the bottom of the larger pin, so that the heart hangs from non-moving shank of the safety pin, and you can wear the pin.

Have fun with color combinations. I was thinking about adding a third color to make polka dots on the heart. I'm off to eat another piece of cake and make a few more hearts. It really is a shame crafting isn't an aerobic activity. Maybe I'll pop in Bonnie's CD and dance around a bit to burn off all that butter.