lydialark

how to: make gold toddler shoes

2012-02-03T13:36:00.003-06:00

A week ago I saw This Picture on Pinterest. Flora and Henri just kill me. I want to make it all, but I had to know about those gold shoes. They are out of my league, obviously. And there are a few pairs of gold toddler shoes out there, but they are mainly dress shoes, not play shoes.

Surely I could do it myself! I whipped out my trusty Tulip Metallics paint and sponged several layers of gold over a pair of scuffy hand-me-down Keds. The rubber looked dirty and it wouldn't scrub out, so I tried a few solutions, and ended up using 2 layers of titanium white acrylic paint. Good as new for about $3.00.

heirloom sewing cheats

2012-02-03T13:10:00.000-06:00

There's irony in the fact that I developed a certain taste for children's clothing in college, but I am still paying for that education so I can't afford to indulge my whims for high end Italian knits and Dutch design. I do know how to sew it, but now that I actually have children I don't have much time to sew.

So I cheated, and I'm not ashamed. I used a secondhand cotton tablecloth. No fancy computerized sewing machine, no hours of backbreaking labor or marking, no pricey embroidery software, just a stained tablecloth and the simplest of sewing patterns.

The foundation appeal is a simple, timeless design that lets the embroidery details speak for themselves. All the charm needs room to breathe! An addition of collar, petticoat, full puff sleeve, or sash would be too much. I made my own pattern, but I like this and this too.

It has an empire waist with embroidery, gathered and embroidered skirt with scalloped hem, long fitted sleeve puffed at the wrist and embroidered, and narrow back button closure with tiny vintage milk glass buttons.

I cheated.

Go therefore, and cheat likewise. You'll be mother of the year for providing your daughter with pretty dresses, wife of the year for doing it on a serious budget, and you'll still have time for the family with all the time you don't have to spend at the sewing machine to do it!

simplify the bathroom

2012-01-18T21:49:00.001-06:00

Starting in December my husband and I have done a big purge of our household to try to simplify. I wanted to show you how the bathroom is turning out. This is the solution I finally settled on for jewelry. I found driftwood-type sticks and wrapped them with hemp string to make hangars. It is a lot simpler than most of the ideas I've seen, and a heck of a lot cheaper.

I gathered all of my bottles in one of those wire CD keepers. Who has CDs anymore? I like it better than wicker just because I can run it through the dishwasher when it inevitably gets sticky. There's another view here, just because I like the little glimpse into the bedroom. With everything off the counter it takes only about 7 minutes to completely clean the bathroom. I also just realized that you don't need glass cleaner to clean mirrors! No Windex, no vinegar "green" mixture that leaves spots. I just scrub it with a wet rag first, then squeegee it down. No spots. No kidding. I fantasize that evil cleaning chemical executives seeded the advice columns with crummy recommendations about vinegar glass cleaners and newspaper scrubs just to make people run screaming for special glass cleaner.

And here's the rest of the jewelry. Well, most of it, anyway.

And finally, here is what I am proudest of. We cut down our bath products to the bare minimum, and I bought that many matching pump hand soap bottles. After dumping the soap into my refill container, I removed the stickers, decanted the shampoos and body washes into them, and labeled them. I wrote on them with a Sharpie and stuck packing tape over the top. You could even print pretty matching labels as long as you laminated them with packing tape. The whole effect is much less hectic than different kinds of bottles everywhere.

---

All my life I have waited to become more sentimental. It almost happened in high school but it fizzled. I generally like the stage of life I am in at present much better than the stages of the past. In my fear, however, that someday I’ll want to vividly recall some other time, I’ve kept scrapbooks, curios, bad photographs, stuffed animals, and cards. I keep all of these things in storage because I don’t actually ever want to look at them. When I look at them I shudder. But this is my 29th year, and I am realizing that as a whole person I abhor clutter past and present, and that will not change. All of the sentimental stuff is just clutter to me. I think photo albums are untidy and don’t like photos on my walls. I hate it as much as I hate having things on my kitchen counter. I hate it as much as I’ve grown to hate decorative throw pillows on my bed. They end up on the floor all the time. No one shows that in the home magazines!

Some people are uncluttered because they are very organized. Not me. I am very simple-minded in practical matters. All of my brain and will-power is directed toward creation and parenting because making beautiful things is very important to me. Anything that threatens my time and ability for those things literally gives me nervous shakes. So the only organization plan that really works for me is this: Don’t have much more stuff than you actually need. I get rid of extra pairs of socks from our closets and extra spoons and bowls from kitchen. Toys that are neither beautiful nor creative go to charity. It’s time to get rid of most of the "sentimental" things in storage too. Wish me luck!

to rest like a whale

2012-01-12T15:11:00.000-06:00

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High
Will abide in the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say to the LORD, "My refuge and my fortress,
My God, in whom I trust !"
For it is He who delivers you from the snare of the trapper
And from the deadly pestilence.
He will cover you with His pinions,
And under His wings you may seek refuge ;
His faithfulness is a shield and bulwark.
You will not be afraid of the terror by night,
Or of the arrow that flies by day ;
Of the pestilence that stalks in darkness,
Or of the destruction that lays waste at noon.
A thousand may fall at your side
And ten thousand at your right hand,
But it shall not approach you.
You will only look on with your eyes
And see the recompense of the wicked.
For you have made the LORD, my refuge,
Even the Most High, your dwelling place.
No evil will befall you, Nor will any plague come near your tent.
For He will give His angels charge concerning you,
To guard you in all your ways.
They will bear you up in their hands,
That you do not strike your foot against a stone.
You will tread upon the lion and cobra,
The young lion and the serpent you will trample down.
"Because he has loved Me, therefore I will deliver him;
I will set him securely on high, because he has known My name.
"He will call upon Me, and I will answer him;
I will be with him in trouble ;
I will rescue him and honor him.
"With a long life I will satisfy him
And let him see My salvation."
Psalm 91

Although this poem describes utter safety, for some reason my mental image is hectic. I see an animal of prey– a bunny, a fawn, a wounded bird maybe– trembling with danger and pain. My quivering conception of safety is a place to pass out when you can no longer stay awake worrying. Although I know the right things to say about security and rest, my real understanding of it is startlingly revealed in the picture I see in my head. I realized how impoverished my image is last night while reading.

In Moby Dick, the character Ishmael narrates an encounter with a gathering of pod upon pod of sperm whales banded together for protection. Though the outer ring of whales was chaotic, one boat of whalers chanced to be pulled into the center of the miles-wide ring of sea giants. Wedged between two enormous whales they looked about them.

"...as if the cows and calves had been purposely locked up in this innermost fold; and as if the wide extent of the herd had hitherto prevented them from learning the precise cause of its stopping; or, possibly, being so young, unsophisticated, and every way innocent and inexperienced; however it may have been, these smaller whales- now and then visiting our becalmed boat from the margin of the lake- evinced a wondrous fearlessness and confidence, or else a still becharmed panic which it was impossible not to marvel at. Like household dogs they came snuffing round us, right up to our gunwales, and touching them; till it almost seemed that some spell had suddenly domesticated them. Queequeg patted their foreheads; Starbuck scratched their backs with his lance; but fearful of the consequences, for the time refrained from darting it.

But far beneath this wondrous world upon the surface, another and still stranger world met our eyes as we gazed over the side. For, suspended in those watery vaults, floated the forms of the nursing mothers of the whales, and those that by their enormous girth seemed shortly to become mothers. The lake, as I have hinted, was to a considerable depth exceedingly transparent; and as human infants while suckling will calmly and fixedly gaze away from the breast, as if leading two different lives at the time; and while yet drawing mortal nourishment, be still spiritually feasting upon some unearthly reminiscence;- even so did the young of these whales seem looking up towards us, but not at us, as if we were but a bit of Gulfweed in their new-born sight. Floating on their sides, the mothers also seemed quietly eyeing us. One of these little infants, that from certain queer tokens seemed hardly a day old, might have measured some fourteen feet in length, and some six feet in girth. He was a little frisky; though as yet his body seemed scarce yet recovered from that irksome position it had so lately occupied in the maternal reticule; where, tail to head, and all ready for the final spring, the unborn whale lies bent like a Tartar's bow. The delicate side-fins, and the palms of his flukes, still freshly retained the plaited crumpled appearance of a baby's ears newly arrived from foreign parts.

"Line! line!" cried Queequeg, looking over the gunwale; "him fast! him fast!- Who line him! Who struck?- Two whale; one big, one little!"

"What ails ye, man?" cried Starbuck.

"Look-e here," said Queequeg, pointing down.

As when the stricken whale, that from the tub has reeled out hundreds of fathoms of rope; as, after deep sounding, he floats up again, and shows the slackened curling line buoyantly rising and spiralling towards the air; so now, Starbuck saw long coils of the umbilical cord of Madame Leviathan, by which the young cub seemed still tethered to its dam. Not seldom in the rapid vicissitudes of the chase, this natural line, with the maternal end loose, becomes entangled with the hempen one, so that the cub is thereby trapped. Some of the subtlest secrets of the seas seemed divulged to us in this enchanted pond. We saw young Leviathan amours in the deep.

And thus, though surrounded by circle upon circle of consternations and affrights, did these inscrutable creatures at the centre freely and fearlessly indulge in all peaceful concernments; yes, serenely revelled in dalliance and delight. But even so, amid the tornadoed Atlantic of my being, do I myself still for ever centrally disport in mute calm; and while ponderous planets of unwaning woe revolve round me, deep down and deep inland there I still bathe me in eternal mildness of joy." –excerpt from Herman Melville's Moby Dick, Chapter 87

Just think of that clear water-window down into the secret lives of whales nursing and making love, ringed by steadfast guardian bulls. How much safer am I encircled by the protection of God? The reason I am not free to rest like a suckling baby whale is not that I am not safe, it's that I panic and leave the safety I am offered through trust.

hey girl, i love your mess

2012-01-10T15:14:00.000-06:00

You know that "Hey girl" Ryan Gosling meme that was going around? I know... that was so last month.

My favorite was the one where he said something like "Hey girl, don't stress about me stepping on that pin. It's my fault for walking barefoot in the dining room."

The thing is, I have that dream man! Our house is filled to capacity with works in progress, and we were having company over for Sunday dinner in 10 minutes or so. I stepped through the door and thought "What a revolting mess." He stepped through the door with a sigh of contentment and said "I love our life. Don't you love our life? I love being surrounded with the things we are working on."

Friends, Whether he was serious or sarcastic, he was rewarded.

Sometimes I look at needlework blogs and think everyone gets more done than I do. You might think the same of me, so I'd like to give a tour of the mess. Keep in mind these are the things that are out. There are more projects put away. Oi.

At the top you'll find a baby sweater almost finished. I designed the pattern, mom knit it and gave it to me to finish, hopefully before the child is 30.

Mmm, lovely. Kitchen scraps waiting to be mixed with nitrogen and browns for another shot at composting. I want to make compost, not mulch, and it's a surprisingly ticklish business. I simply cannot accept that I wouldn't have the skills to grow my own food and thrive in a post-apocalyptic world...which is just another reason you love me, right?

Daniel's Christmas stocking. Now that the holiday rush is over I figure what's the rush? I will feel this way until approximately November 15th, 2012.

A pin. I need to print photos of the girls to put in it, but not until the. last. instant.

This one has been sitting around for a long while. My mom wove it so I could try some shibori felting. More likely than not I will end up with an unusable piece of fabric in the end, so I am petrified. Meanwhile, this useless fabric occupies valuable worktable real estate. Brilliant.

I found this wood shaving wreath in the dumpster. I like to imagine why perfectly good stuff ends up there. Was it a gift from a recent ex-boyfriend? Did she come back in lovelorn remorse only to find I already dumpster dove for it? I'm going to put a bow on it as a Valentine wreath. Hope my neighbor doesn't mind!

A bunny stuffed animal waiting to be sewn and photographed. When Damaris was two weeks old I had the urge to create. For some reason I made a corduroy bunny because I'd never patterned anything like that before. It turned out cute, and I am working on a tutorial with a downloadable pattern for you verrrry slowwwwwly.

Finally, I am also in the last stages of making a dress for the girl's baby dedication. We are dedicating them both this Sunday, and I will be sharing some thoughts here about heirloom sewing shortcuts and designing for children.

I hope you find my disaster edifying. At the very least you can show this to your own husband to prove you are a normal crafter... above average even!

i dream of quilting

2012-01-03T16:35:00.000-06:00

This is the chair that Lydia recovered.

This is the light that filters through the print

On the chair that Lydia recovered.

This is a blog Lydia loves to browse and dream of improv quilting

Inspired by sunlight filtering through the print

On the chair that she recovered.

These are two reasons so beautiful and bright instead of quilting

She's internet surfing far into the night

Inspired by sunlight on the geometric print

Of the chair that she recovered.

sequence

2012-01-02T22:31:00.000-06:00

frame

frame + plate

frame + plate + hawk feather

frame + plate + hawk feather + mobile

frame + plate + hawk feather + mobile + wool weaving

frame + plate + hawk feather + mobile + wool weaving + skull

frame + plate + hawk feather + mobile + wool weaving + skull + turkey vulture feather

frame + plate + hawk feather + mobile + wool weaving + skull + turkey vulture feather + ibis feather

a new year

2011-12-30T23:47:00.000-06:00

I am sleepless knowing the gifts for my family's late Christmas celebration aren't all wrapped yet. Trying to air out the hazy smoke from my filthy oven is my excuse to be up. My eyes sting. But I am not really wrapping, because I need to write.

When I was nine or so I had this American Girl diary I didn't dare to journal in. That painstaking curly penmanship pains me. It was all nerves. I was already the sort of child petrified of using a sticker or cutting the paper dolls out of the book, but this just cemented it. The journal had sample entries from Felicity and Samantha and so forth, as well as crafts and factoids about the history of real girls keeping journals. Will I ever forget that one of the little paragraphs said a Victorian girl only wrote in her journal when she was happy?

It's a weird idea, really. So very Victorian and silly now that I am an adult, but I am Victorian too. I don't just write when I am happy, but I do only write when I am finished with things or think I have done or thought something notable. Call it a New Year's resolution if you will, but it is time to write in process as a discipline. I've said I need to write process before, but never thought about it this way. It's right to remark the small imperfect moments too, because life is composed of them.

a blur

2011-12-29T17:34:00.002-06:00

We are slowly settling into our new normal. The picture gives you a little idea of it: The double carry. The blur. And I can't get both girls heads in the frame at once in this format. That all seems about right. This week I've felt less overwhelmed than I have in a while. What a relief!

For the last five ~~Christmases~~ years I've agonized over what I've termed in my head "the stocking issue:" Should we go traditional? Quirky? What is traditional anyway? And what kind of quirky? Should they match or be unique? If I were to answer those questions, how would I decide what medium to use: Sewing, or knitting? Pieced? Solid? Felt? Lace? Intarsia? Stripes? Handspun? Millspun? Suddenly the mist cleared and I started knitting red and white Scandinavian style patterns. Thus we get the visual impact of matching without being identical. They will be unique to our family, but essentially Christmasy. Alas, I did not get this idea until just before Christmas, and it has taken about a week to finish the first one so I've totally missed Christmas 2011. That's okay, the girls won't remember this Christmas anyway!

I hope you had a great Christmas, and a great Thanksgiving, and a great Fall, for that matter! Ready for the New Year? Here it comes...

damaris joy to the world: a birth story

2011-10-22T18:41:00.001-05:00

Singing unexpectedly marked the birth of Damaris Joy on October 13th: Humming through contractions, singing to Thacia, singing to welcome Damaris, and even later belting my heart out from my back on the bathroom floor to stay awake when I grew faint.

Contractions began in the night, but I kept sleeping until 5:30 am when I noticed my mucus plug on one of those innumerable third trimester trips to the bathroom. I ate breakfast and then went back to bed to nap for a few hours. For the last few months I’ve been singing “Turn your Eyes Upon Jesus” while consciously relaxing my muscles when I wake in the night. During contractions I practiced that as a ritual in early labor. I also danced, rocked, and squatted low. Meanwhile, Daniel moved furniture and set up the birth pool.

Thacia was so excited to have a pool right in the living room that she couldn’t eat breakfast. She got her bathing suit on right away and hopped in, duck in tow. As I labored there a little later she would also lean in on her hands and knees when I knelt and pour water over my back during contractions.

I could feel things progressing much faster than in my previous labor. Since my midwife had asked me to let her know 2 hours before I wanted her (which, by the way is tough to guess!) I went ahead and called, but she came in about 30 minutes! I wasn’t in the active phase of labor yet, so she waited in her car for a few hours before admitting me. I had gotten the go-ahead to be in the pool, but it was too early and slowed down the labor, though it felt amazing! My doula came, and she, Daniel, and I did some laboring upstairs in my cozy bedroom where my midwife joined us at about noon. I knelt by the bed, leaned on a stool, and danced a bit. Having a doula made a big difference for Daniel. He was able to grab a snack or go to the bathroom without “deserting” me. They were each good at their own comfort measures, and between them and my midwife I was always surrounded by support. The whole tone of the birth was relaxed and pleasant.

I took a little break from laboring to sing Thacia down for her nap. How it is possible to just have less intense contractions just because you need to do something else, I do not know. No doubt the contractions were less useful, but we traded efficiency for a little normalcy. I was surprised by how relaxed I was in general: Not that the relaxation was effortless because it wasn’t, but that it was so successful! I could tell things were getting more intense when my head started getting dreamy and I was feeling like it would never end. The part of me that was just going for it was disheartened and beginning to doubt myself. My inner observer was cheering and telling me “These are symptoms of transition hormones! Hang in there!”

My water broke around 2 pm to my unutterable relief, and it sounded like a water main busting. With it came the urge to push, and it felt so good! It was time to decide where I wanted to have this baby, so I headed downstairs to the birth pool with much help. Once again, my contractions were comparatively light as air while I was getting to my goal, but picked up again in the tub. Daniel says it was about 45 minutes from when my water broke to when Damaris arrived. I have no sense of time anyway, so I’ll take his word for it! I was pushing sometimes sitting, sometimes standing, and they kept telling me to get down in the water or out of the tub because you need to be fully immersed or fully dry for the baby’s respiration, but I knew it wasn’t time yet. I ignored them until I was really ready to hunker down, which wasn’t long.

Touching Thacia’s head for the first time was such a galvanizing experience that I expected it would hold great meaning in this labor as well. Instead, making my own choices and bearing down freely were really motivating to me. Even in the moment I knew my grimaces looked hilarious and idly wondered if they could hear me roaring through the wall next door, but I totally didn’t care!

When she crowned the midwives discovered that Damaris had her cord tight around her neck. Daniel said she didn’t turn her head and shoulders as usual. All I know was they told me to go faster, so I did! Though we didn’t note it at the time, on further reflection my midwives inform me that, like Thacia, she was born posterior. This explains why she was floating so high right up until the water broke, and also explains the back labor. Damaris pinked right up by the 5 minute APGAR, but was a little limp at first. I had wanted to catch her myself if possible, but all the bustle of slipping off her cord made that difficult. When I picked her up I was talking to her and began singing Aaron’s Blessing, the blessing we sing to Thacia before she lays down, and Daniel and my mom sang along.

Thacia was able to be present for the birth. My mother took her in and out of the room depending on how intense things were at the time. She was able to be near the baby very soon. Her main disappointment seems to be that she thought she too would have a baby in the water! She urgently wanted to get into the pool with me, but it was no longer appropriate. Daniel set up her wading pool outside afterward, and she kept pointing to her tummy saying “baby?” as she got down on her knees in the water. When my mother carefully explained that she would not be having a baby herself, she got out of the water and rejoined the action indoors! She still questions it at bath time, because while my tummy is much smaller than before, her little toddler potbelly remains! She is certain her baby will come to her in the bathtub one of these days.

Afterward on a trip to the bathroom I grew faint as post partum women are wont to do. My midwife suggested singing, and I truly sang for joy! Everyone just joined along and we had a little praise and worship service on the floor. It was an unexpectedly marvelous experience.

Altogether the whole birth was very redemptive. We are thankful to God and to our birth team for this lovely landmark in our lives.

play dough porcupines

2011-09-30T21:36:00.000-05:00

It's odd what you set your heart on. Today I mixed up a huge batch of bubble solution only to discover I don't like the recipe, and no amount of monkeying with the ingredients seems to fix it! I was disproportionately let down!

Thankfully my mom's play dough recipe never disappoints. It is soft and tactile. Perfect for rolling, making imprints, and just touching! It is not what you want for really building though. I was surfing over at The Imagination Tree recently and realized that Thacia is old enough for play dough! Duh. I know. I mixed up a batch and told her "This is the good stuff!" It's what I grew up with. None of that weird-smelling, fast-drying, brand name mess for us! The only problem: She won't get her hands dirty! Shaving cream and finger paint have both been sad failures in this household! The solution: I cut a whole bunch of colorful drinking straws in half, and she enjoyed sticking them into blobs of the dough. For hours. Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner!

Play Dough

2 1/2 cups flour
1/2 cup salt
1 Tbs. alum
2 cups boiling water
5 Tbs. vegetable oil
2 (or more) Tbs. food coloring

Mix dry ingredients thoroughly. Add boiling water and oil. Knead in food coloring. Use rubber gloves for this because the dough is very hot, and it will stain your hands! Store in air tight bowl or zip bag.

holiness

2011-09-26T15:37:00.000-05:00

Chroma unseen played
on light undreamed.
Music breathed in notes impossible,
unimagined on our homely scales:
the Holiness of God
the Essence of God
in whose image I am made
whose essence I do not bear
“Be holy because I am holy.”
I search in prayer,
in deed, I search in Leviticus;
admission of pure ignorance.
An alchemist attempting
gold of rubbish
uncomprehending
the substance I seek.

Having just finished Vanity Fair– William Makepeace Thackeray’s version, not the glossy– I have been pondering how virtues can be vices, and often are. Every one of the novel’s famously unheroic characters have good attributes (some more than others) realistically mixed with bad motives for generally poor results. I relate.

What a tremendous propensity we humans have for being right without being good, being good without being nice, or being any combination of those things without being sincere!

Instinct says the missing element is holiness, but what is that?

I started nosing around in the Pentateuch for what exactly holiness is. I still don’t know, but I am pretty sure it’s an attribute of God– maybe THE attribute of God– we lost in the fall of mankind: Unwavering good, and certainty of that good. Broadening the definition seems to dilute meaning. Keeping it so narrow doesn’t come close to describing it.

The holiness of God is fiercely good. It flickers and burns. It is a fire that consumes and creates. It is something so alien that I don’t recognize it when it touches me, but I want it to transform me. I am allowing the flame to lick some of the darker cabinets of my mind and heart, to burn through what possesses me until I truly possess something. Will the friction of contact with holiness make me holy? I hope so, because I haven’t got any other plan but to be near it.

vintage feather-craft folk art makeover

2011-09-19T13:24:00.001-05:00

When were these Mexican feather craft pictures popular? They used to turn up every so often in estate auctions when I used to work for an auction company. This pair has been knocking around my house ever since they came to me from a great grandmother's estate. I liked the quirkiness of them, but not they weren't in the best condition. We revamped them this week to hang in the nursery, and here's how

we did it:

Here are the originals in their carved cedar frames. I generally hold that it is recklessness in the first degree to paint over nice wood, (don't get me started about "distressing") but these needed a little jazzing up. Obviously they aren't a matched pair, were a bit dinged up, and pretty faded.

The first step was to cut them carefully out of the frames.

Then I pulled out the backing nails and cleaned the glass.

I carefully dusted off the pasteboard backing with a soft brush.

The original condition doesn't look too bad in the photo, but the purple and blue were especially faded. I touched up all the colors with India inkand a medium bristle square acrylic brush. You can see in the after picture at the very top that I actually made this guy acid green instead of grey.

I could not be out there when my husband painted the frames, so there are no pictures, but you know how to use spray paint without my instruction!

We used Rustoleum spray paint in gold, a light dusting of copper, and a very very very light dust of aqua. I can't say I am all that thrilled with the color. If someone knows of a more mellow butterscotchy gold, please share! This gold looked like a high school prop to me at first.

Then my husband reassembled the whole kit and caboodle. Done. Bright and cheerful for babies who like birds!

Sorry these aren't perfect photos. I am relaxing my standards to survival mode until further notice!

adventures in elimination communication

2011-09-18T21:30:00.000-05:00

My ECing baby at 7 months

People ask me about how I got my baby to use the toilet so early. I have not written much about it here because I don’t feel like any kind of expert. However, I do have my own small experience. So due to popular demand, here’s my personal story with Elimination Communication (EC).

The bottom line is that I am lazy and cheap. Too lazy to wash so many cloth diapers, too cheap to buy so many disposables.

EC is not really toilet training, per se. It is a practice in which the caretakers learn to anticipate the baby’s need to poop or pee and help them do it somewhere beside a diaper. The baby also learns to respond to parent-led cues to try to eliminate. I read about it in Mothering, and there is also a website totally dedicated to it. It sounds mysterious and impossibly difficult- the idea of just knowing when she needs to go. People act like it's a parlor trick. It's hilarious. The magical peeing baby. But it's really something you just adjust to.

The basic idea is that when you see the baby peeing (so you do have to take the diaper off at some point) you make a “psss” water noise that the baby begins to associate with relaxing those muscles. I first read about it when Thacia was 3 months old. It made me curious, but I thought it would take my daughter much longer to pick up on the cue sound. All I did was try it for kicks one afternoon while we were outside. I left her diaper off and when she peed I made the “psss” sound. She had gone twice, and we were going to go back inside so I gave the cue sound one more time before I put her diaper on, and was shocked that she responded!

That’s the simple story. It really was that easy. Now to answer a few of the more common questions I get asked:

Q: At what age should you begin?
A: As far as I know you can start as young as you want. A lot of people in the US start around 3 months or so when the baby can support him or herself a bit better, but there's no rule about it. When my baby was really little she associated the noise with relaxing the whole GI tract, not just the bladder and bowels. Thacia usually spit up a little, peed, and at least gave a decent toot when she was cued. Later she developed more fine-tuned control. I have heard of people starting at 18 months too. I think that would actually be harder because the child is busier at that age.

Q: How much time does it take?
A: It is a little more time intensive than traditional diapering. We enjoy the time it takes because we read and sing and cuddle, but if you are on a tight schedule it would probably be hard. I am guessing it also depends on your child’s temperament.

Q: If I begin will it take over my whole life?  
A: It seems like EC can be as much a part of your day or as little as you want to. There is no need to be legalistic about it. We have found it to be a flexible part of our baby-rearing lifestyle. Some people put their babies in training pants or underwear right away. Thacia stayed in diapers though she is more interested to make it to the potty when she wears training pants. We were also much more consistent with it when Thacia was younger and had less of an agenda of her own, but we still usually do some diaper free mornings and all BMs in her little potty. During the winter we slowed down with it because she didn't want her pants off in the cold! I am pretty low-key about the whole thing. If the BMs and a few of the wets end up in the potty instead of the diaper I call it success. It's something you can personalize to your needs and the amount of time you want to spend on it.

Q. Do I need any special equipment to start?
A. Check out diaper free baby for supplies and potty positions, but the short answer is no, not really. At first I tried making the “catch” in a little bowl, but had much better luck sitting backward with her on the toilet, or just letting her pee outside. I sat on the edge of a lawn chair with her in my lap between my knees and gave her the cue. I have heard of people starting inside with a trash bag under a towel or something like that. As Thacia grew we got her a Baby Bjorn little potty, which is smaller than most on the toilet training aisle in the big box stores.

Q. Will early toilet training traumatize my little one and psychologically damage him/her?
A. I am entirely unqualified to answer this question, but I’ll tell you my gut instinct about it: It seems like the traumatic thing would be to put pressure on the child, or shame them about their natural functions. If you are competitively raising your child to have an edge over others his or her age, that pressure is going to tell on your relationship and their security. That sort of mentality has no place at all in the EC, or, I might add, the Christian mindset for raising children! Foundational to the philosophy of EC within the framework of attachment parenting is the desire to better communicate with your children, to deeply and intuitively know their needs and help them with them.
Thus you help the child enjoy the advantages of being dry rather than praising his or her efforts to please you.
Personally I haven't pushed pottying with Thacia because though she has awareness of her functions, I think she is too young to be tasked with entire responsibility for them yet. Her interest in it ebbs and flows. Still, she hates being wet, and usually lets us know when she needs to have a BM. She sometimes asks to go at very surprising times, often when we are out of the house or engrossed in other things, of course!

I haven’t changed more than 15 dirty diapers since my daughter was 3 months old, and that’s a conservative estimate. For me, that’s so worth it!
We just sometimes end up with an accident when someone demonstrates “what a snake says!”

happy milk day

2011-09-09T20:55:00.000-05:00

Today is 30 days from my due date. This means that I could reasonably be holding my second born any time between 16 and 44 days from now. If the number 16 didn’t bring it home, the arrival of my milk this morning did!

We are having such a lovely time right now, Thacia and I. She cuddles. I treasure it. She is sleeping in of mornings, and I get a few minutes or maybe an hour to do devotions and write. That will change in something under 50 days, and I think I am looking forward to that too.

I have no conception of what it will be like, except that I love the sanity that nursing brings. I love that there is no pressure to get things done that surmounts cuddling and resting with your new little life. I love the connection. I love knowing that it is the best thing I could possibly be doing for my child. Even though research on breastfeeding and milk is very incomplete there are so many things about it that fill me with wonder, and I am celebrating them today:

Did you know that the milk the baby gets for the first few days (colostrum) has between 1 and 5 million white cells per milliliter? That’s 100 times more than you have in your blood. Even 6 months later, breast milk passes on 10-20 times more white cells per milliliter than run in your veins. Guess how many white cells are in formula? Zero.

Breastmilk is produced on demand. The more the baby takes, the more you make! No measuring required.

Breast milk has antibodies perfectly designed to combat whatever your baby has been exposed to, so even if you get sick, your body is protecting your little one. After the first year of nursing breastmilk has even higher concentrations of Lysozyme, an immune factor that attacks the cell walls of bacteria and destroys them... just in time for baby to start putting more things in his/her mouth!

Did you know that breastfed babies get fewer ear infections, gastrointestinal problems, SIDS deaths, respiratory problems, and childhood cancers? Did you know that breastfeeding your little girl helps protect her from breast cancer later? Did you know that breastfeeding helps reduce weight problems in your children as adults?

Did you know that breastfeeding significantly reduces your risk of breast cancer and may also reduce your risk of uterine cancer as well? The more months you nurse, the better.

Did you know that though formula is theoretically more appropriate for babies than cow's milk there are no long-term clinical studies that show any difference? Cow's milk and formula are more similar than breastmilk and formula.

God designed the most amazing and irreplaceable system for feeding babies, and we can all drink to that!

here comes the bride...again

2011-09-09T07:42:00.001-05:00

You know how earlier this summer (it's still hot here, it's still summer) I embroidered a Here Comes the Bride banner for a friend? Well, by tragic mistake I sent it to an address with fewer zeroes in it than I should have and whoever got it didn't send it back!!! Was she having a wedding too and figured it was a thoughtful gift? We will never know. So I made this one really quick right in the middle of moving. It made it just in time, not a minute to spare! This weekend is the wedding. We are thinking of you Jill, even though we can't make it to London town!

I used the same font I had designed for the other one, but this time I traced it lightly onto canvas– after hemming of course– and painted it with several coats of gold metallic fabric paint.

The "lace" is just cut out of the canvas and lined with gold paint on the front side, fray check or clear nail polish on the backside to keep it from fraying. I used giant vintage buttons from my stash at the top. Easy peasy.

I think it would be cool to try a more ambitious lace idea with this technique born of necessity!

broccoli and cheese soup

2011-09-08T15:10:00.003-05:00

The other day I found a recipe on Pinterest that claimed to be better than Panera’s broccoli and cheese soup. As a devotee of soup, I felt that was high praise. Panera truly makes as good a broccoli and cheese soup as can be found in a chain restaurant. I know this because I am always ordering broccoli and cheese and am disappointed other places. The pinned soup didn’t live up to it’s claims, but I was emboldened to try my own hand. This is not Panera’s broccoli and cheese soup. It’s more like something you find in a bistro with artisanal cheeses, and it was good enough to share. The smoked gouda gives it a nice flavor, and also it sneaks in more vegetables!

Broccoli and Cheese Soup

1 T butter
1/2 C chopped celery
1 clove garlic
3 T butter
1/2 C flour
2 1/4 C chicken stock
1 C carrot, shredded
1 summer squash, shredded
1 1/2 large heads broccoli, chopped into florets
1 bay leaf
2 C cheddar cheese, shredded
1/2 C smoked gouda cheese (generous), shredded
1 C cream whipped to a froth, or milk
1/2 tsp. nutmeg

Serves 6

In a large saucepan, melt 1 T butter over medium low heat and gently saute celery and garlic until celery is soft. Set veggies aside. In same saucepan melt 3 T butter and add flour. Slowly add chicken stock, stirring constantly. Add carrot, squash, broccoli, and bay leaf. Simmer for 20 min. Stir in cheeses, cream, and nutmeg and heat until warm, not allowing it to boil.

parenting by nightlight

2011-09-07T11:05:00.001-05:00

Last night I forbade the use of the floor fan in our bedroom because I cannot hear what is going on in Thacia’s room over the roar. Until it cooled down in the last 2 days I have been helpless to protest in the face of late pregnancy overheating this summer. As I suspected, Thacia did wake up and cry in the night. She doesn’t always, but this was no surprise. To say she ate 4 bites of dinner would be generous, and she woke hungry at 4:35 am. I took her to the kitchen to reheat the dinner she’d disdained. It really didn’t go over any better this morning than it had last night, despite the fact that she likes all of the ingredients in it. Of course I looked exactly like this illustration from A Child’s Garden of Verses! Which brings me to the part where I'm sometimes tempted just tell my husband to crank that fan as loud as it will go.

I don’t object to the idea of night time parenting. I am thankful for the sacrifices my own father made on my account. I understand that little people have very small reservoirs for food and love that need filling more often, even when everyone else wants to be sleeping. I hope my diminutive height qualifies me for that category too, because I don’t often sleep well either! The girl comes by it honestly.
So I have avidly searched for night time parenting help that actually works and struck out again and again. All of the speculation that a baby/child will sleep when they get tired enough are baloney. Some children, I assure you, do not! I am heart-warmed by anecdotes of snug co-sleeping arrangements, but my child sits up playing all night if she’s in bed with us, and that’s no theory! Baby wearing has worked in the past, but as Thacia has grown into a toddler the effectiveness has dwindled to nil. Please don’t tell me about warm baths or lullabies or white noisemakers or night lights. Please.

My theory for all the hollow eyed parents of these wakeful children is that small children are like fairies, capable of only one emotion or need at a time. For the child who needs to be held, comforted, or nursed most, drooping eyelids and a heavy head can be staved off indefinitely. Then there are routines, habits, and yes, growing will-power to overcome. On top of that there is our own parental resentment and the messages it sends, etc. In short, I think night time parenting can be as complicated as a ginger moonlit walk through a Duplo-strewn bedroom. Those of us who are blessed with these restless wonders hesitate to share our experiences for fear of being judged by the people whose kids slept the night at 3 weeks, but I submit my experience to the wilds of the internet hoping it will encourage some zombie-parent out there. Eventually they’ll sleep on their own. At 18 months it’s so much better for us than at 6 when I thought it would kill me.

My tale of last night ends peacefully as I laid the still hungry (but not hungry enough to eat) child in her bed with a Reader’s Digest magazine in her hand: Her preference over stuffed animals, of late. She talked herself back to sleep soon, and I dropped off too– 2 hours later, but without regret.

give the guys a break!

2011-09-06T21:33:00.001-05:00

No children choked in the making of this photograph

He was staging plastic soldier invasions when I was brushing the tails of My Little Ponies. He staved off dinosaur attacks in Jurassic Park, I ruled as queen in Narnia. My friends and I tried to piece together wisteria leaves with pine needles to make faerie clothing. He and his friend played a game with a rope swing, the point of which was to kick one another in the head. “He” is my husband, my partner, my best friend. We are really different and always have been, but together we make a whole. I need him to be different. By myself I don’t see the whole picture. By myself I can’t make the great home we make together. That is why it makes me C-R-azy to hear women I love belittling the men they love for things that are not wrong, just different.

Women are tricky. We don’t always phrase our criticism as negative per se, but the implications certainly are:

“Men never grow up.” He buys Legos, likes to start fires, and gets a kick out of trying breathtaking maneuvers on rock faces. Does this make him less mature than me? I still play house (it’s called interior decorating and cooking), play dress up (Friday nights and Sunday mornings), and waste a lot of time reading (I can feel good about it; it’s classic literature). Why are my pursuits mature while his are immature? I think it’s just because women talk more than men and we’ve labeled things that way. Face it, they do a lot of work we don’t necessarily want to do, and vice versa. Let’s give them credit for what they are good at!

“My husband only thinks about one thing.” Great! With a little bit of planning and flexibility, that something will be you: His very own Aphrodite! Don’t you want to make him wild? Don’t you enjoy a little something yourself? Thank him for keeping something fun at the top of your long to do list. If it’s not fun, then you need to figure out why, together, whether it’s medical, emotional, or timing related. It was certainly designed to be enjoyable, so pursue it together!

“My husband embarrasses the bejeebers out of me.” Okay, so this one doesn’t usually get said directly, but when our husbands are on the spot we tend to be hyper-aware of what we think other people are thinking about them. You know the nervous laughs we give, the quick corrections, the eye rolling, the cringing, the elbows. I even notice way older couples doing it. I was especially guilty of this one as a newlywed, and most of the time I was so wrong! No one else notices my love’s posture, grammar, or silly jokes as much as I do, and dagnabbit, no one else has less reason to be critical than I have! My discomfort reflected more about my own insecurities than it reflected his flaws.

Our men (and our children too) rise or sink to the level of our expectations. No one has the power to make or break a man like his wife and his mother can. If we want strong, capable, confident men, we need to respect the ones we have for their strengths, capabilities, and areas of confidence. We need to build them up, starting in our own hearts and minds. I strongly believe that how we casually generalize about men needs to reflect our own respect and positive outlooks on our mates. The trust and confidence we place in them will pay off in the long run.

the big finish

2011-08-12T16:00:00.000-05:00

I am procrastinating from waxing my dreads (which no one but my husband really notices whether I've done or not) to proudly show you the baby quilt I finished yesterday! It kind of crocked in the wash, i.e. color rubbed off from one fabric to another, but that doesn't entirely surprise me because I did use quite a few vintage fabrics. I figure it adds character.

I ended up using a black and white polka dot binding because the black helps intensify the rainbow colors in the sashing.

The green and yellow calico will make a perfect field for animals to romp on later. At least that's what I would have used it for as a kid!

Even with the move looming over us and about 700 trips to the training potty per day, I have been shocked by how much time and motivation I have had to finish some projects that have been sitting around, like this one. A thrifted tank from Banana Republic that probably cost $60 originally just needed some repairs on the beading. I only got to wear it once this summer before my pregnancy started straining it, but everyone liked the photo so much on facebook I'll repost it here!

I hope you are having a carefree summer, my friends!

busting a move

2011-07-28T17:23:00.000-05:00

Moving when you are out to there pregnant, in 100 degree heat, with a toddler running around, during VBS, while on call as a doula for someone else’s birth is a rite of passage, right? Good. Let’s just check that one off the list this month!

It looks like we’ve sold our house! Our closing date is less than 3 weeks away, and a busy 3 it will be.
Some people start packing right away, others wait for the last minute, still others neglect to pack at all! When moving I definitely fall into the first category. I. Love. Moving. There is something about the fresh start that fills me with the kind of anticipation some people get only from new school supplies.

I give roughly one quarter of my possessions back to Goodwill from whence they came.
I scour the gunk off my bread pans, I wash linens I've collected but never use. I sharpen pencils and polish shoes before I pack them. Yeah. I know.

I pack a room like a swarm of locusts strips a field: Swiftly, relentlessly, and in a straight line. Now that I have a child I am not quite as swift, but the rule stands.

The exception is sewing/craft supplies. It’s incredibly difficult to part with the “somedays,” the “maybes,” and the “I swear it can be dones.” Even though many supplies have been gifted to me from others with less interest or more self control, I find myself agonizing because a bunny made of tie-dyed felted sweater would be so cool, and I really do want to make baby shoes from those slightly worn eel skin envelope purses.

I obviously have trouble saying no to hats too. I just spent the afternoon transferring my hat collection into uniform boxes. The count was 89 hats when I started, but I am chunking 5. They are mostly vintage, all of them fabulous except the aforementioned 5 which are not quite fabulous enough. I kind of identify with The Collector in the movie version of Everything is Illuminated... which is a terrible thing when you are planning to move into a very small apartment! I am so likely to get rid of everything practical to keep things that fill me with wonder.

Does anyone else have this problem?

mommy diaries

2011-07-23T15:26:00.001-05:00

This summer it's fairly obvious that I am not blogging regularly, so what could I be doing with all that extra time? Ahem.

For one, I am joining the longstanding tradition of the mommy journal. Along with recording the hilarious quotes and most heinous blackmail on your child, it seems that an important part of the ritual is beginning such a diary with very good intentions and leaving it to languish. I have been a compulsive diarist since the age of 10, so I have a few tried and true rules of thumb I hope will keep me on task.

1) Keep it small and simple. Barnes and Noble must make serious bank on gorgeous journals that are way too intimidating to write in. A little notebook from the school supply aisle of the grocery never mocks poor spelling, atrocious handwriting, long absences or spilled juice. It's just happy you spend time with it at all! The miniature pages don't call for an epic every time you put pen (or crayon) to paper. A few lines will do!

2) Set aside a habitual time. I try to write the moment after I have put Thacia to bed before I get involved in anything else, but any regular time would do.

3) Write now. Sometimes the best time to write is while you are still laughing (or steaming)! Not only will your on-the-spot reporting be more vivid and accurate, it will actually get written down. I figure the 6-7 minutes it takes out of my routine to write are worth more than anything else I was likely to get done.

4) Record the routine. What was for breakfast? What happens when daddy comes home? What stories and activities can your little one not get enough of? These change so slowly you don't even notice, but I guarantee that later it will bring a smile to your face to read about the "boring" things that make up the bulk of your days.

cartwheeling geese + rainbow stripes = love

2011-07-05T20:27:00.000-05:00

Okay now I am ready to show you the quilt top! Whatever precision I achieved on the squares themselves has been blown to pieces on the sashing, but I am not going to apologize for this not being a blue-ribbon worthy quilt top. What it lacks in technique it makes up in heart and pure joy. I will treasure the memories of Thacia sitting in my lap picking the colored strips at her whim while I sewed them together.

I love the unpremeditated nature of the color combinations. I just tore strips from every solid colored cotton fabric I had, ironed out the kinks, cut them into roughly the same length and just let Thacia hand them to me at random.

These are some of my favorites!

At the joins I mitered the strips. I really like how the squares look wonky even though they really aren’t. Sorry the photos are kind of blurry. I had to wait until a little someone was in bed before I had time to get the pictures!

how to: have a hotel-sparkly bathroom

2011-07-03T21:06:00.000-05:00

Daniel and I met on a summer missions opportunity in Yellowstone National Park. In addition to our spiritual pursuits, we were “room attendants” (read “maids”) in the hotels there. Can you blame me for falling in love? There’s something powerfully attractive about a man who wakes up every morning thrilled to clean toilets. He still flicks a bed sheet like a pro, but bathroom scrubbing is my domain while he is out doing important engineer things.
These are the bathroom cleaning tips I retained from our time as employees at the Old Faithful Inn.

The big secret to keeping a sparkling hotel bathroom is not a powerful chemical, it’s cleaning every day. Every day the shower is scrubbed so no mildew gathers in the grout or the curtain. Every day the chrome is polished with a dry rag so soap scum is banished. Every day the floor is wiped down so hairs don’t collect in corners. Every day the toilet is scrubbed so mineral deposits are wiped away, and all under 7 minutes. Elbow grease is no substitute for consistency. That said, I should probably tattoo it in mirror writing on my forehead... if only I could see through the splash marks on my vanity mirror!

The shining porcelain and chrome comes from buffing with a dry rag after they are scrubbed. No one else may get a chance to see it, but enjoy the sparkling moment!

A gong brush is a nice compromise between scrubbing a toilet by hand (icky!) and the stunningly ineffective long handled toilet brush. Sure, it doesn’t come in it’s own little decorative holder, but who wanted to decorate with a toilet cleaning apparatus anyhow? I admire the power and precision a gong brush allows while I appreciate not having to submerse my hand in toilet water.

Borax is a wonder, a fact I’ll admit I did not learn at the OFI. I was reluctant to green up and relinquish Comet with Bleach for my constantly water and dirt stained tub, but I am currently composing a hymn of gratitude for the scrubbing powers of the magical white powder. I only work on it while I am cleaning the tub, and now that I am using borax I don’t have as much time for composition because it goes so fast. But seriously, try it. It’s safer, it actually works, and you can use it in your laundry too.
Those fluffy white hotel towels will thank you.

checking in

2011-06-16T10:07:00.000-05:00

Just thought I'd check in, since I haven't posted in a while. I have lots and lots of thoughts, but between pregnancy, whatever this health issue is, and home showings, I haven't had a single brain cell to spare for writing at the end of the day! That's right, not a solitary one.

Thacia has been sitting on my lap choosing strips of fabric to sew together for the sashing on the new baby's quilt. So cute! But I don't want to show you the whole thing quite yet...

Hope you are having a lovely summer.

does an amber teething necklace actually work?

2011-06-08T19:59:00.000-05:00

The one year old molar I was aware of, but a good look in Thacia's mouth revealed she is cutting not one tooth, but five! First of all that puts some of the tenser moments of our week into perspective. Secondly, it gives me a whole new respect for amber teething necklaces. The Orajel hasn't made an appearance at all! Does that look like the face of a child cutting five teeth to you? I thought not.

It sounds like a baby is supposed to chew on it, but the calming effect of the necklace comes from wearing, not chewing. Baltic amber is an analgesic, which basically means it scrambles pain messages from the nearby nerves to the brain.

I was skeptical, but looking for a non-medicated approach to teething pain relief for a child who doesn't like cold things in her mouth. I figured at the very least it would be pretty. I got Thacia's from Tweetbabydesigns on Etsy. [It looks like she doesn't sell amber necklaces anymore, but she does sell pretty fabric chomping necklaces for mommies to wear and babies to bite, so still worth a peek!] I have been very happy with the design, though uncertain whether it made a difference.

Uncertain, that is, until a few months ago when Thacia asked to take it off for some reason, and I forgot to put it back on for a few days. Those were very tearful days. I retrieved the necklace from behind the coffee table, and in 6 hours we were back to normal. Needless to say, it stays put now! I don't think amber is a miracle cure, but it does seem to help Thacia.

I will definitely be considering amber teething necklaces for baby shower gifts from here on out.

gratitude for the groaning

2011-06-07T10:44:00.000-05:00

Sunday morning’s sermon was basically on gratitude aligning your perspective on God and life with reality. I’ve thought much about gratitude in the last few years. I feel like practicing saying three things I was thankful for each night helped pull me out of depression. So simple. Sometimes so hard. So essential. The practice of gratitude frames life in a more hopeful perspective. The practice of gratitude lifts your thoughts up to what is lovely, excellent, praiseworthy, etc. That in itself is a good thing. But by and large, I would call my practice of gratitude “Gratitude for the Groaning.”

People speak often of the emotional benefits of giving thanks. I can picture it flooding one with a sense of well-being, or even assurance. I can envision the sigh of relief, or even the little ecstasy one might get from counting blessings and dwelling on them, allowing one’s heart to swell with a pleasure of its own. I can envision it, I say, because I have seen it happen to other people. I have seen their eyes well with gratitude. I have seen their shoulders release under the warm touch of blessing, and complexions glow in the light of peace. I have seen it, yet rarely and fleetingly felt it. I’ve wondered if I were doing it wrong, as if experiencing gratitude might be something tricky like practicing a golf swing.

Of course thanksgiving grows with practice, but, no, there might be something else at work. I am beginning to understand the power of my body chemistry in my emotions and sense the differences between the days when I am more balanced and less so. On days when my body is struggling for equilibrium my thoughts all tend downward and it is my duty to refute and right them one after another. The practice builds my ability to engage my thoughts and take responsibility for them, but the habit does not make any one of the thoughts more positive by reflex. Building a “library” of positive replacement thoughts including thankful thoughts has been valuable to me– I can sense that much– but it hasn’t brought me one step closer to being a Pollyanna. In years of practice shouldn’t one happy feeling of gratitude have welled up unbidden and unmedicated? Shouldn’t some warm bubble of light have transfigured a dark moment? Maybe that’s not the point.

Sometimes chemicals keep us from Edenic pleasure, sometimes circumstances in life, or unresolved personal pain. Although I am glad to realize that a mountaintop experience through gratitude is possible, sometimes the churchy contrast between what others purport to experience and what I experience (or don’t) feels like a condemnation. It can seem as if a more balanced spiritual person will experience happiness more, so if I am not euphoric, or even placid, I must be off track.

It has helped tremendously to allow my definitions for a few terms to be transfigured: To redefine gratitude from a feeling of pleasant thankfulness, to a practice of acknowledging the gifts in my life and expressing thanks for them.

How valuable to recognize that hope is not necessarily facing the future with a dazzling smile or eagerness, though those emotions feel nice. Hope can be putting one foot before the other, a forward motion toward a positive outcome by choice rather than instinct. Hope can be based in tremendous longing for some as it is in positive belief for others. In hope I cry out along with the aching father to Jesus “I do believe, help my unbelief.”

It has been good to come to terms with what I am learning is reality, that joy is defined by cultivating good choices, and not by positive emotions bubbling up from my subconscious. Feelings of happiness, or even equanimity may never be my default, but I don’t have to pretend otherwise to be truly joyful. I can choose not to let the sadness or confusion define me. I can keep choosing the positive track.

I hope that someday in this world I will experience some sustained period of the warmth of gratitude, hope and joy, but for now the payoff of the practice minus the pleasure is more like a Psalm than a chick flick. There is sometimes a separation between action and emotion, and increasingly I’m okay with that.

how to: dice an onion on the double

2011-06-03T21:02:00.000-05:00

Chopping an onion can get dicey, but this method will have you crying for joy at how fast and easy it can be! You need not be Julia Child, or even have a particularly sharp knife–- good thing, too, because my kitchen cutlery is about as sharp as my puns are!

1. Slice off the ends, and toss them out. Chop the onion in half across the striped lines.

2. Cut each half in half again so that the full rings become semi-circles. Now you have a stable, flat surface to lay on the cutting board.

3. Lay each quarter of the onion down so that the half-rings are like rainbows. Slice into thin sections.

4. Lay the sections out flat 2-3 deep, and chop across your rainbows radiating from the center.

Voila! Perfect finely chopped onion in no time, at no hazard to life or limb.

pinterest, orgasmic birth, and the priceless woman

2011-06-01T19:39:00.001-05:00

What do Pinterest, Orgasmic Birth, and Proverbs 31 have to do with one another? Possibly nothing to anyone but me! The length of this post is a record for this blog, so strap yourselves in...

Upon announcement that I would be studying complete womanhood, a friend asked to read my thesis when I am done. Will I ever be done? Probably not... but if I were going to write a thesis at some point it would probably have a lot to do with the woman outlined in Proverbs 31 in the Bible. I like to call her the Priceless Woman, a personal hero of mine.

Complaints about her abound because she can seem too perfect. Some have suggested she’s a male fantasy, but I don’t believe it. As an entrepreneur, civil servant, and super-wife/mother she strikes me as more of a female fantasy, or better yet, a composite of the best womanhood has to offer. She’s self reliant yet soft, she accomplishes ambitious things but knows how to enjoy herself, and everybody who knows her thinks she’s the world’s greatest. Tell me that’s not what you are dreaming of!

I think it was Stasi Elderedge who said the Priceless Woman seemed awfully busy and asked when she had time for sex? Good question: One I am not qualified to answer, since I am hardly her, but I wonder if that’s the right question.

I don’t think we are really asking about her love life, but about her fulfillment.

When and how does a godly woman take care of her heart longings when every moment seems to be spoken for in the service of others? We can talk all we want about the joy of giving, but certain kinds of compulsory giving dry me up and make me exhausted and irritable. It is axiomatic that we all need to spend time in Christ’s presence through the word and meditation to be fulfilled. I am not negating that. But how else does she maintain that real smile on her face?

Proverbs 31 verses 21-22 say “She is not afraid of the snow for her household, For all her household are clothed with scarlet. She makes coverings for herself; Her clothing is fine linen and purple.”

Her family was not only provided for physically, but clothed in scarlet, which was a luxury. But the very biggest luxury was her own purple linen garments. Named Lydia, and having been a textile production management major, I am so tired of hearing how expensive Murex dye was in the ancient world, but here I am on that old saw: It was super-pricey, the domain of royalty and rulers. She treated herself like a queen. She knew that to care for others she had to take very good care of herself. This is not about basic physical need. I am sure she could get by in some drab t-shirts and holey underwear like the rest of us.

(Go ahead, it’s time to make rags out of some of those suckers!)

This is not even about clothes. This is about a woman being herself, appreciating herself, and setting a wonderful tone for her household and community because she sets a spacious tone for herself.

Which brings me to Orgasmic Birth, the sort of movie title I steer well clear of... but hang with me! It’s about the similarities between the hormones a woman experiences in labor and what we experience within– ahem– the intimacy of marriage. It’s 11 couples, and such beautiful births! I was in awe of woman after woman relaxed in her focus throughout her rewarding work. It occurred to me that I am never as relaxed daily as these women were free to be during some of the most intense physicality of their lives! I showed the film to Daniel, and he agreed with a grimace “No, you are never, never that relaxed. Ever.” Because I am not relaxed, a few other people in my household aren’t as relaxed as they could be either. I’d love to change that. I think one of the huge reasons these women were able to focus on their bodies and babies was they were so comfortable with their surroundings.

Each woman had a very unique individual space that reflected her desires, needs, and personality. That played out in different ways: One woman spent her entire labor and delivery outside, another had drums and willowy music, yet another focused on having the important women in her life surrounding her. Because each woman had her needs taken care of– not only health needs, but emotional needs and her need for beauty, she was able to exist fully in the moment she needed to be in. I have a lot to learn from that.

I think the Priceless Woman gave herself a space that she reveled in, enjoyed, was thankful for, and appreciative of, which set a great mood for the people around her. If you are still wondering along with Stasi, I am guessing she was free to enjoy herself with her husband because she enjoyed herself and him in general, and when you aren’t preoccupied there’s always time.

There’s a difference between self-obsession and allowing your personal value to be something you dwell in (not on) and offer to others. Between looking out for number one, and living your agreement with God that you are worthwhile, and fearfully and wonderfully made. It cost the Priceless Woman something precious, probably money she could give to the poor, or buy something her kids were dying for. It probably cost her time to find or make, or direct making the outfit that reflected her view of herself in wardrobe. It was time and upkeep she could have put into her civic duties and who knows what else, but she staked that claim for herself (and her family), and the world was better for it.

Which brings me, now, to Pinterest, which I’d resisted getting involved with. Everyone says what a time-sucker it is! Then a friend who makes amazing things you should buy lots of asked me personally, and I caved. Once again, I am glad I did. Somehow for me Pinterest is a space without anyone else’s expectations in it. The things I pin onto my little virtual inspiration boards are somewhat different from what I wear, make, and live in. Paired with the stunning realizations from Orgasmic Birth, it was a revelation I kind of knew was coming. I tend to be a chameleon adjusting myself constantly to what I interpret the expectations of others to be. Sometimes I do it without thinking, sometimes I adjust myself to see if I can do it. I can. But can I be me?

To fully become the woman I am meant to be I need to grant myself the necessary luxury of being myself, otherwise everything I have to offer others will also be borrowed from others. I will live in personal poverty, emotionally hand-to-mouth... for longer than I already have.

It need not break the bank, but it is going to be costly. I wonder what it will cost. Time spent away from “urgent” things? Energy I “should” be using to accomplish... stuff? Cash that “should” go to more selfless causes? Or most daunting of all, personal vulnerability when what I offer is fully my own and naked to the evaluation of others?

There’s only one way to find out.

I see it as a two-part process starting in the mind based on Romans 12:2 (NAS) “And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may prove what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect.”

First is to not be conformed. My action step here is to practice becoming as picky and discerning about craft, home, and fashion ideas as I am about philosophy. I start imitating magazine and cute crafty blogger images of life that certainly aren’t me, because those are the images available in my head. Each imitation puts me a little further from the high idea God had when He made me. None of them are bad in and of themselves, but I need to be pickier about what I appropriate. Who knew that living an intentionally godly life would cause me to limit my exposure to innocuous craft blogs?

Second, I need to be transformed by first seeking out images and ideas that are authentic to me. What starts in my head is what I live out, and the environment I create for others. The more natural that environment is for me, since I set the tone in the house, the better off my family will be. I am experimenting with some art therapy ideas, and Pinterest on that account.

the most important thing i learned at the DONA doula workshop

2011-05-26T21:52:00.000-05:00

A few weekends ago I attended a weekend intensive that was definitely a few credits in my coursework on womanhood: A DONA Doula Workshop.

A doula is someone who gives physical, emotional, and informational support to pregnant and birthing women. Doulas have probably always existed, it’s just that they used to be called “women.” If you want to know more about this fantastic profession, how to become one, or hire one for yourself or a loved one, there is a lot of great information out there.

I felt very strongly that I needed to go to this, and I am so glad I did. It was good training not only to be good labor support, but to be a well-balanced and well-loving woman. We started out with childbirth basics, as in anatomy, and then in the next days moved on to talking about birth and support. We did a lot of role playing and talking about what specific words we would use in different intense, even potentially explosive situations. For those of us who struggle with holding our tongues, and those of us who struggle with holding our boundaries, it was awesome.

Every one of us was attending the class because we already have some strong opinions and often intense experiences. Most of us are suspicious (to say the very least) of the medications and procedures that are routine in today’s hospital birth. We want to stand between every woman and every bad birth experience. We want to save them the pain we’ve experienced or heard of.

Only the night before the workshop Daniel and I had been talking about something similar. Anyone who has a strong belief, be it religious, economic, moral, etc. wants to do the same thing! Once we find something that has good results for us we want to almost force it on people. Of course, people don’t react well to that. You can’t overhaul a person overnight. You can’t overhaul them at all. It’s not up to you, it’s up to them. Them and God. So what can you do?

One thing I really learned over the weekend is that I am a guest in someone else’s story, not a main player. As that guest privileged to be there, I can offer support and real encouragement (as opposed to cheerleading) so that the star of the show can make whatever choices are the best she can at the time. It’s a boundary. “We are here to help a woman discover her own strength... not to rescue her and leave her still vulnerable.”

To learn how to do that and not just realize the truth of it, is going to take some time. I’m a big offender on this one! Being a doula, no, being a woman is a very humble role. That is not to say it is of little worth, or even undervalued (though in some cases the latter is obviously true). There is no room for ego, because ego brings tension, and relational tension is often unhelpful and not needed. To find the balance between being a doormat and being intractable and ungracious is the challenge. I felt as if this weekend workshop helped a lot.

What Is Support?

Support is unconditional.

It is listening...

not judging, not telling your own story.

Support is not offering advice...

it is offering a handkerchief, a touch, a hug... caring.

We are here to help women discover what they are feeling...

not to make the feelings go away.

We are here to help a woman identify her options...

not to tell her which options to choose.

We are here to discuss steps with a woman...

not to take the steps for her.

We are here to help a woman discover her own strength...

not to rescue her and leave her still vulnerable.

We are here to help a woman discover she can help herself...

not to take that responsibility for her.

We are here to help a woman learn to choose...

not to make it unnecessary for her to make difficult choices.

–Anonymous

Sounds like a practical application of I Corinthians 13 doesn’t it?

made in the shade

2011-05-26T11:28:00.000-05:00

Let it be here recorded that I think we dress infants and toddlers completely wrong! Not that mine wears a lot of clothes anyway. I guess I'm no judge! But this is not essentially a matter of style, but of function. Here are my reasons:

Stains don’t come out of jersey knits like they do out of woven goods. The yarns have so soft a twist they capture every little bit baby drops, poops, urps, etc. Woven fabrics can also be soft and warm, and then tired mommas everywhere could take a nap instead of scrubbing stains in the laundry room.
All the snaps on onesies and pants that are supposed to make it easier to change diapers are a tremendous temptation to ignore said squishy nappy. Let’s do elastic instead.
These bright and harsh colors don’t look good on tykes. They have pale skin! Why don’t we try celedon, buttercream, smoky blues, grays, cappuccino, and pale rose colors and work up in intensity from there?

I personally cringe at the cutesie embroideries and slogans every outfit seems to sport, but that’s a personal preference. The origin of this diatribe is that all the tiny summer hats I could find (without searching a lot of stores or paying a mint) had bees and ruffles and bubblegum colors on them, so I just made my own in chambray the exact color of her eyes. She loves hats, but it takes her a while to warm up to a new one, so I don't have a great picture yet. We have a beach trip planned, so a nautical theme made sense. Sorry, I don't have a pattern to share because I made the pattern myself...

The inspiration for it comes from a page in one of Dover’s copyright free books . How cute would the bonnet be?

So until the day my children start whining to me “Why can’t we wear Old Navy like normal kids...”

here comes the bride

2011-05-25T11:43:00.001-05:00

A friend asked me to make her a banner for a young attendant to carry in her upcoming wedding, and I hope she is as pleased as I am with the result!

I backstitched the letters onto a vintage flour sack, and made fabric flowers for the top. Ordinarily I would sew the flowers, and stitch them on, but I experimented this time with hot glue. A glue gun is not normally my scene, but I’m short of energy, and therefore time! This isn’t going to need to go through the wash, so I think we’re safe.

Antique swiss lace scraps and repurposed tie silks are used as ribbons. The atmosphere of the wedding is to be whimsical and romantic. Does it work?

I wanted all of the letters to line up, so I designed it by hand. All that time my mom complained of me wasting making signs and letters growing up has paid off! I just wasted my mom’s time. Mine stays intact thanks to all that practice.

a birth story- or how getting someone else here got me here

2011-05-23T10:51:00.000-05:00

This is Thacia’s birth story. Hopefully it will explain to you why I have become passionate about the effect birth has on women.

Agnes Malthace was born at home on a chill early morning in February. They laid her on my knee, and after months of theory, I finally knew she was. Her slick warmth grounded me. A few hours later she stopped breathing. What no one knew was that the anxious unexpected time in the hospital was, in many ways, actually the easy part for Daniel and me.

I was so excited when contractions woke me at midnight, the in-between that separated Valentine’s Day from February 15th. I woke Daniel to tell him he’d better cancel his dentist appointment for the next day. We got up and I ate some stir fry as fortification not knowing what lay ahead, and slept in the next morning. We went on walks, talked about life, and played Phase 10, which Daniel beat me at consecutively not just that day, but for a year or so after! At around 2pm my contractions became more intense, and I could no longer distract myself so we called the midwife to let her know. She came to check in, but I still had a ways to go, obviously.

Unfortunately that’s where things started unraveling.

I, so diligent to follow subtexts and alternate threads in literature, had missed a major story line in my pregnancy. I had had two midwives over the 9 months, and they both thought I had an eating disorder. In hindsight it should have been clear to me: The repetitious food diaries, the weighing and reweighing, the close questioning, the lectures about nutrition which I nodded along with: After all, I was doing everything I was told. What more need I do than agree? What especially should have warned me was our visit to the OB who would sign off on the birth for insurance purposes. From what he said, the midwife prepped him extensively that I would be underweight. For this reason he prepped me that if I were underweight he would have to order an ultrasound (which I had chosen so far not to have) for peace of mind. My midwife Arlene* held her breath as he took the fundal measurements. “What are you worried about?” He turned to face her. “She’s right on target, and she eats way better than me!” We had our signature, but for the rest of the prenatal appointments Arlene questioned under her breath “How did he get that measurement?”

An eating disorder + labor = questions about stamina, and about willingness to do what it takes to go through with labor. There are questions about a woman’s connection with her body. Unbeknownst to me, those questions arrived in the birth room with Arlene, and it got really crowded in there. She also said later that she did not like the layout of our house, but she never said anything at the time.

I had no idea what the problem was, but everything was tense, everything came into question. There was pacing, but it wasn’t me, and it wasn’t Daniel doing it.   Later it turned out there was something wrong with me, and a valid medical reason why I gained with such difficulty. It turned out that when I refused the birth super-food, honey, it saved my labor because on its own my body crashes hard on sugar. But being doubted and being questioned during such an intense, strong, yet fragile time was very difficult. When the authority who should have been a cheerleader for me withdrew into doubt & fear, it was fearful for me.

In her fear that my strength would not hold out, Arlene asked if I felt “pushy” yet. I said I didn’t know, which for the record means NO, at least about feeling the pushing urge! I hadn’t effaced evenly, and there was still a lip to the cervix. To see if it could be cleared away, Arlene asked me to do some pushing.

Never. again.

I was pushing clumsily against a closed door, and my cervix swelled up right about the time I actually got the true rush to push. I needed to rest, to breathe through to contractions and let my cervix recover, but now I also really needed to push! The assisting midwife and Daniel prepared the bed for me as Arlene helped me walk from the couch to the bedroom. I must have been waddling slowly because she had a lot to say and plenty of time to say it. She told me in a low voice that she was disappointed in me, particularly that I was so “disconnected from [my] body.” She told me that had I practiced breathing techniques properly I wouldn’t be in this mess. She compared me unfavorably with herself in her own labors, where she had hypnotized herself, i.e. zoned out, and hardly felt a thing. She denies this conversation, but folks, I couldn't make this stuff up!

For the next 5 hours of trying not to push and the hour of pushing after that, I had that condemnation simmering with me. Was she visiting her own fears on me? Was she setting herself up for indemnity should I have to be transferred for a C-section? I don’t know. All I know is that corrosive doubt caused me anguish that left labor pain looking pathetic.

I did, in fact, deliver a beautiful, wet, pink baby girl at 5ish on the morning.

When she seized, when she turned blue, I had a real peace I hadn’t had all that interminable night. It was going to be okay. And it was.

The woman who went into labor is not the same woman writing this story. I changed. Questioning my strength and questioning my health have led to good things because I got good answers to my questions. What about the women who don’t have such steady support, or deep faith to draw from? I ache for the many women who feel profound failure in the areas of fertility and birth because that failure is so often a projection of fear– their own or someone else’s.

I started doing a lot of reading. I think I read more birth stories after birth than before! I started getting facts. I’ve done a lot of thinking. The home I come from is very natural birth-oriented, but I am now also even more an advocate for women educating themselves about the process and making their own choices. I am working toward my birth doula certification... taking big classes this weekend!

And that’s the medium-brief version of how I got inspired to pursue birth education, etc. as a part of my ongoing studies in womanhood.

*named changed for courtesy

whoo's too cute?

2011-05-23T10:49:00.000-05:00

Looking at henna designs for pregnancy on Pinterest must have gotten into my head, because when I sat down to sketch a little owl for a friend's baby shower this is what came out! It would be fun to do a small series of these wistful little animals. What would I do? Bunny, skunk, fawn? I can see them in little oval or square frames in a nursery.

I have a lot to write about, what with having taken my DONA doula training two weekends ago and numerous other thoughts. But things are really up and down with my health just now, and taking way more of my precious energy than I want it to. I'm struggling to give myself grace to only take care of the everyday and no extras.

Oh, how paradoxically painful it is to extend grace to oneself! Oh, how difficult "extra" is to define!

how to: make your own starry dawn advent calendar

2011-05-09T21:04:00.003-05:00

The rush of awesome Christmas projects that flood the craft blogs in December is agony to a procrastinator such as myself. Who has time to make treasures between making treats and presents and trying to make or keep traditions? No, if anything Christmasy is to be done in my house, it had best start now! Which is why I was thrilled to receive this beautiful advent calendar from my very talented sister this Christmas. It only needed to be quilted and bound, and it took me 5 months to ~~get around to it~~ do it! I asked Anna to answer a few questions for us:

Q: Could you please tell us a little about your style?

A: "My style... I love small prints. I love needlepoint pillows. I love embroidered things... Pretty much if you find it at an estate sale for a woman in her 80's, I will like it. All of my friends refer to me as "an old soul," not because we believe in reincarnation, but more because I would fit in a lot better if I had been born at the beginning of the 20th century than at the end. I am currently obsessed with grey and white, as far my decorating goes, inspired by a fabulous shower curtain from Target."

Q: Where did you get the idea for this advent calendar? And where did you get the silhouettes from?

A: "I got the idea from a fabulous website that I discovered one day while browsing the web for free knitting patterns. I LOVE this industrious wife and mother's innovation and style. Totally me. Anyway, she had instructions for a similar calendar, and it made so much sense to me to make a reusable advent calendar, rather than the kind you throw away once the windows are all open! Her calendar can be found here. I am obsessed with felt, (Tacky Felt Projects, I call them...) and so this was right up my ally. I decided to take a different twist on it though, and instead of making the them snowing presents, I made it the best present of all... my precious Savior. I cannot draw for anything in the world, unless I have something to go off of, so I had to steal someone else's art."

Lydia's Note: Because she drew it, not printed it, it was not actually stealing. However, I searched for "free nativity scene silhouette" and came up with lots of copyright free options you could re-size and print for patterns.

Q: I love your choice of colors here, as always! But what made you think "Christmas! I think I'll use pastels!"?

A: "I'd love to say it was my idea, but it was pastels in the photo. But that is something that I loved about the photo. And of course, traditional doesn't quite come natural to me. My colors do vary from the photo... But I guess I was going for the rising dawn look? I don't know. Just took some felt and went with it!"

Q: How did you put it together? (Materials, adhesives, did you have patterns for everything or just eyeball some of it?)

A: "I just looked at the photo and freehanded the characters onto a legal pad, cut out the paper pieces and pinned them onto black felt, then cut out the felt. I'm quite sure there must have been an easier way, but the long way is therapeutic. That's what I like to tell myself. Everything came from Michael's and Hobby Lobby, as (regrettably) we do not have better stores in Odessa! The felt is from Michael's. The background is just muslin from Hobby Lobby. I used textile glue (which was kind of difficult to use, because it doesn't spread well and is a pain to squeeze out of the bottle...) to affix the felt to the muslin. If I were ever to do something like this again, I'd explore different options. If can sew, maybe that would be a good option, but I personally didn't want the stitches to show... I was going more for the flannel-graph look! The beads came from Michael's. Just seed beads and nylon bead thread. The stars each have a snap on the back to attach with each day of December leading up to Christmas. I put beads on the stars to distract from the ugly stitching for the snaps, (and because color in unexpected places is always fabulous!)"

Lydia's Note: Other options for the felt might be hot glue or a fusible web like Wonder Under or Heat n' Bond.

General Instructions to make your own calendar follow after the jump:

Starry Dawn Advent Calendar

Supplies:

Beige muslin 20"x 20"

Felt in assorted pastel colors (shown here, pink, lavender, light blue, off-white, and white)

Black felt

1 1/2 yds. Wonder Under or Heat n' Bond

Seed beads in gold and assorted pastel colors

Gold sequins

Nylon beading thread

Sew on snaps (23 small, 1 larger)

Beige sewing thread

Thin quilt batting

Fabric for quilt backing

Fabric marker with disappearing ink

Download or draw an advent silhouette. Size and print on the computer.
Pin the printed pattern to your black felt and cut out the pieces.
Cut out cloud and wave shapes from the pastel felt as strikes your fancy.
Use your fusible webbing to adhere the felt to the muslin ground fabric in layers. Begin with the cloud shapes and end with the nativity scene.
Cut 23 small star shapes from felt, (ours are about 1" tall) and one larger one (about 2").
Use gold beads and sequins to embellish around manger scene.
Sew male sides of snaps to stars reserving the large snap for the largest star.
Embellish stars with pastel beads.
Sandwich quilt batting between muslin and backing. Hand baste to hold in place.
Mark swirls to quilt with fabric marker.
Hand or machine quilt around the clouds, the swirly sky, and anything else you would like to.
Trim edges evenly and stitch on quilt binding.

found: holey rock

2011-05-06T19:44:00.001-05:00

Ten Things You Can Make With a Rock With a Hole In It:

necklace pendant,
pony tail holder with elastic,
mobile with other natural or found objects,
keychain fob,
knob for something special (with a screw threading the hole),
bolo tie slide,
light pull,
fastener for bag or coat,
clapper for a coconut bell,
thread through a shoe lace to differentiate left from right

The challenge to myself was ten good things. I can think of more, but they kind of started wandering into the "What Would Martha Do?" catagory. Now what are the ten dumbest applications?

I'll start us off:

cocktail ring... for a baby

thacia's lattice baby quilt

2011-05-06T19:28:00.001-05:00

I saw something like this here, and I didn't really know how they did it. I'd never done a quilt before, but I just dove in and worked it out on graph paper.

I might do it differently now, as strip piecing, but live and learn. I like how it turned out. It reflects Thacia's personality well because she is very linear, but also zany.

The theme for her room is kind of sock animals, so I chose red, brown and oatmeal for the colors. This is an old photo of Thacia eating the sock elephant I made for her. He's a little homely, but (I tell myself) sock animals are supposed to be.

For the reverse side I bought a print and then realized I'd been cheap and not gotten enough, so I divided it into quarters and put white sashing between them. Mission accomplished.

joyful as cartwheeling geese

2011-05-05T20:12:00.001-05:00

When I saw this quilt block tutorial at The Sometimes Crafter I knew someday I would make it even though I am not much of a quilter. As you may know, my first quilt from start to finish was Thacia's baby quilt. Make me post a picture of it tomorrow! I can't believe I've never showed you the finished thing! Actually, that posting date was only 2 days before I went into labor. Maybe I can believe it.

I love this block because it's insanely happy. What could be more joyful than geese flying in circles? Don't answer that.

I do wish I had such fun vintagey fabrics as the example, but I am making do with only scraps, and that's a rule. If I am too cheap to throw stuff away, then I am not allowed to bellyache when I use it!

Anyway, the completely logical thing to do as a beginning quilter is to jump right into paper piecing, right? Christina actually made it super easy.

There was some debate as to whether it is best to use regular printer paper, special paper piecing paper, or tracing paper. I used printer paper, but rather than perforating by stitching through it without thread, I just used my tracing wheel and ruler on it– here's the key: On the ironing board. The teeth of the tracing wheel bite deeper over a padded surface. Even Thacia can and does tear off the pieces cleanly.

I need your opinion: Is this gender neutral? There's pink in it. This child's heartbeat is much slower than Thacia's, so it could be a boy! It's a baby quilt so no one is taking this to college, but... what do you think?

a course of study

2011-05-04T19:40:00.002-05:00

Practically anyone can get old, but to age like fine wine takes some thought.

One year ago Daniel and I started talking about some major changes in our family life– the trajectory of our lives, really. He started talking about getting more education, which appealed to me also.

Not to go back to a formal classroom, but to intensely study and practice for what I want to be when I’m, say, 60. I want to get my Master’s, or even my Doctorate in being a woman. As my thought and effort has changed, so has this record. I am honoring that here and now.

Goodbye design journal, hello coursework for my studies!

Creativity will probably always be a big part of how I explore and express femininity and my place in the world, but other passions have risen alongside it.

When I started this blog in 2008 as an isolated newlywed transplanted halfway across these great states, I didn’t have much direction for myself. I still don’t have it figured out, but I find myself 4 years later without a compass point, but headed west toward the sun, which, as it so happens, is wine country!

obsessed

2011-05-01T21:11:00.003-05:00

What are you obsessed with?
A bride is obsessed with weddings. Everything reminds her of them, and the conversation keeps coming back to the big day.
Mere interest is not enough. What fills your veins with fever? Gets you up early, keeps you out late? What is always on the tip of your tongue?

 This morning in Sunday school we were discussing Paul’s proclivity to turn every situation, every conversation, every chance meeting, every contact into a talk about Jesus being the fulfillment of the law: Natural law, Levitical law, Roman law, he didn’t care.  We get this impression that Paul, being a super-saint, had the best rhetoric and the best apologetic techniques; that he was just somehow smart enough to turn these situations into opportunities. It struck me that I don’t think that was the key.

He was totally obsessed.

Right now almost everything relates to birth as far as I am concerned. Birth, birth, birth, morning, noon and night. Even Daniel is dreaming about it now. I don’t need a lot of prompting to talk about natural labor practices. I don’t need time to prepare a speech on why they are better, or the dangers of some interventions, or a mother’s need to know the difference! If need be, I could stand in a podium right now and talk for hours with no outline, no notes. It’s something that has affected my life, and I proselytize without shame because I believe in the urgency of the message.

Now if I believe that Jesus is God incarnate, all things made by Him and for Him, preeminent in everything, holding the keys to life: If I believe He is possessor of the answers to all of our questions from ecology & psychology, to sociology & physiology... in fact, all the questions we ask and more, then why am I not obsessed with Him as Paul and Peter were?

I ask myself this, because it matters. I ask because Paul said “For I am not ashamed of the gospel (good news) of Christ, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes...” (Romans 1:16a) I ask because I am ashamed: It might offend people and they might disagree. I am ashamed because belief of almost any sort, particularly dogma, isn’t socially correct. I am ashamed because obviously I do not viscerally believe the above things about Jesus quite as much as I want to think I do.

But I can feel this beating in my chest, this... I want this Jesus obsession: Not just His principles, but His person. My husband and children need this of me. My friends and community need this. My world needs this.
A few obsessed people can be conduits to change the world. I want to be one of them.

untitled

2011-04-26T20:23:00.003-05:00

For some reason, in the past I have shown the process of making things, yet often neglected to show the final product.

Am I not sure I like it when I am done? Do I think it is egotistical to show my work? (Duh, this is a blog, after all.) Do I lose interest the moment I finish in excitement for the next conquest? Who knows.

I made this piece in fall/winter 2006/2007. I don't remember precisely how long it took, but it took a while. There are 2,772 half circles and 1,386 dots of paper in it.

Of course I had to cut out considerably more than that before I was able to settle on the ones I used. The beiges and pinks are glossies of skin from cosmetics ads. The greens are a bit more diverse, though the color isn't as stable. It is slowly turning from secondary to jungle green and teal.

The idea came from a piece I loved making in college, which my brother owns. It's well worth a visit to his bathroom to see, because I still think it is one of my best creations.

I was at a very uncertain place with myself at the time I was creating this. I was deep in depression and not sure I even liked it. I just had to do something monumental to prove I could, really.

Considering I generally work quite small, 33"x 48" is monumental to me.

I like it better now than when when I made it. The color changes and interlocking pinwheel patterns are somehow soothing to stare at. You get a little lost in it, and sometimes that's a good thing. I'd love to make another, perhaps in blue. Can't you just imagine a toddler "helping" me sort thousands of fluttering pieces? It will have to wait.

just beat it

2011-04-21T11:19:00.003-05:00

A pinata, that is!

This time of year parks and backyards are mobbed with children beating the stuffing out of their favorite cartoon characters at birthday parties. Even as a kid I wondered why Cinderella or Batman? Why not the wicked step mother or the Joker if we must decimate something for the candy contents?

This particular stick was made at my mother's behest for family parties. It is just a dowel from the hardware store which I Dremmeled at the handle for a better grip. For some reason almost everything I make ends up having birds on it. If I like birds, why wring this one around the neck while using it to knock my hero senseless? Another mystery. I do not know.

I do know it looks cool, and it is a very fast project, because pine dowels burn about like balsa wood. This is a great beginner project!

armoire transformation

2011-04-18T13:17:00.003-05:00

The seed for this armoire came when I was looking at a book of Eliot Porter photographs. The horses were painted in white onto a pair of doors. The closets Daniel built make an armoire superfluous, so it was time to move this piece along, as much as I adore the hinges.

I started by wood burning the horses, and then it became a commission for a girl's room. It struck me as more of a living room piece at that point, too old for a teen. The horses almost reminded me of Scandinavian dala horses, which may have germinated the idea for flowers.

I wanted a folk art feel, a pattern and texture to make the piece more youthful. I didn't want it to be strictly symmetrical, so I devised a few flowers to fill the space in harmony without symmetry.

I used vine charcoal to lightly sketch on the flowers, using the knots in the wood as some of the floral centers. The advantage of vine charcoal over many other utensils is that it erases with a swipe of the hand and has a loose freedom to it. If I were going for precision, I would trace with graphite or wax paper as I did on the horses.

For texture, I burned the flowers in so deeply you could take a rubbing from them. I followed the burning with a good cleaning with wood oil soap and a swipe with lemon oil. The lemon oil removed any last traces of charcoal and graphite as well as leaving the wood rich and healthy.
This took about 3 months to complete, mostly because Thacia had to be napping before I could burn, and I was so tired because of pregnancy that I needed to nap at the same time!

featherweight

2011-04-17T21:03:00.002-05:00

Remember Tinkerbell twittering in Hook “This is the biggest feeling I’ve ever had, and the first time I’ve been big enough to feel it!”
It’s a potent, hearty, thrumming joy, garnished with incandescent rays of happiness, and possibly bubbles and glitter. Can you anticipate a miracle? This one is beyond my most wistful dreams. After all, you can only dream about what you know exists, and until this week I apparently did not know that physical energy existed.

During my first pregnancy my midwives effectively concluded that I had an eating disorder as the needle on the scale wavered grudgingly upward, gainsaying the detailed food diaries they asked me to keep. That distrust caused problems for Thacia and me in the long run, so it took over a year for me to stop being angry and see the issue from another perspective: They see a lot of charts and something wasn’t adding up. But what? I never lied about what and how much I ate, and they seemed to think I should gain more if I did indeed eat the copious calories I claimed.

Last month saw me almost in despair as I cringed anticipating a repeat of distrust with this pregnancy. Thankfully God through my husband is teaching me to fight a little harder before I crawl into a cave and pull my dark prognostications in atop me. We Googled the symptoms of my overactive metabolism, and were shocked to see many of the other cruel quirks of my body populate the screen thick and fast. I needed to see a doctor, but who? I am gun-shy. Who would take me seriously enough to investigate, not just chalk it up to hypoglycemia, anemia, or an eating disorder sans proof as others had? With trembling I chose a doctor recommended on a natural mothering internet board.

A blood test was ordered, a vein found. I prayed the problem would be self-evident. My results were ludicrously normal... except for my Vitamin D levels, which plunged beneath the low range of acceptable. Immediately I was uncomfortable with just taking D, enormous dosage notwithstanding. I went to the doctor about weight, not a desire for a sunnier attitude or springier step. I was told, however, that it might help what I eat count for something. Down it went, with the assurance that I would feel like a new person in 3-4 weeks. I didn’t want to be new, I want to be full!

That was only a week ago. Friends, I feel new. 3 lb. weights have been removed from my wrists and ankles. Who knew I didn’t have to ache? I barely realized I did! I feel more vital: Not that I wasn’t alert before, but the inner me is up off the couch and at the windows of my soul. Daniel and I marvel that I am not getting sick if meals are a hair further apart than ideal, or do not contain just the right magical nutrients. Yes, there is definitely a new spring in my step. But the thing that proves to me how long I have lived with it is this: Since babyhood I have had an attitude toward sugar that swung between mild ambivalence and extreme aversion, partly because I felt hollow after eating it, partly because I lose weight on it, partly because of the acrid aftertaste of sugar, and especially chocolate. As a child I even groaned to my mother that I wished toothpaste came in a mashed potato and gravy flavor! Why did everything have to be sweet? Why did no one else care about the sharp bitterness that follows?

Now I know, because suddenly the aftertaste of sugar is only discernible to me because I have lived with it for so long. Ice cream is the food of the gods, lemonade the ambrosia of life! I am keeping myself in the dark about chocolate.

Last night I inopportunely and impulsively went dancing, quite literally for overflowing joy in the ability to fly through the air on the wings of a song and shimmy to the wood floor with all my might in the middle of the night. In these things may God be glorified!

pain/gain

2011-04-12T13:10:00.003-05:00

“In pain you will bring forth children...” Genesis 3:16b

By the time I was 5 or so, I already knew that giving birth hurt. There’s a kind of mystery to the pain. I remember talking about it with a little Sunday school friend in low voices. He was marveling that something as big as a baby could come out of his mom’s... belly button.

As an older child I came to understand that a second part of the pain of childbearing is that your children are individual from you, though you don’t always want them to be. Releasing them to be separate begins early. It is painful and fraught with danger because children and parents don’t always make the choices we want them to. They don’t always make good choices, but our choices affect one another because of the nearness of family ties and emotional bonds.

Now having given birth myself, I also recognize another pain, and that is how emotionally and spiritually raw the act of giving birth is. The visceral nature of childbirth surfaces some very frank assessments of self-worth that I think we consciously ignore when we can.
John & Stasi Eldredge write that a deep lie women must face in themselves is the belief that we are “too much and not enough.” Too much as in, we need too much, we desire too much. Not enough as in, we believe we are inadequate, and what we have to offer falls far short of what is required of us.
That wording strikes home with me. The more women I know deeply, the more I see those beliefs and our responses to them running beneath the surface of our actions. This is our reflex to living in a world where self-worth is a painful issue. Some of us hide our needs and true selves, some of us try to control and never be in a vulnerable position. Some of us do both.

During labor and birth the veils are parted. A woman is what she is, and faces those deep fears. In childbirth classes you might talk about some of the fear and panic that comes in the transition phase of labor. There is a lot of input from hormones, and the crisis choice of allowing your body to do what it must. Relaxing and comfort measures help. But where do those deep fears come from? Women are told to repeat positive mantras to themselves: “I am the perfect mother for this baby,” “My body is powerful.” These speak at surface level to the fears that we are too dependent and too weak to give birth, but do they speak to the heart?

Birth is a vulnerable moment when the coping mechanisms we use to get through our days and relationships may very well fail us. How much better would it be to have explored the answers to our questions, and have the lie “I am too much and not enough” replaced with the glorious truth of what we were made for and what we can be? How much better would it be for the average birth to reveal a woman tenderly reliant on God and her birth partners, and fiercely strong for her baby?

I have a feeling our culture would change.

A woman’s view of herself is deeply affected by her birth experiences, among other things. She brings those beliefs about herself to her relationship with her husband and the world. She brings that view to how she mothers a new generation. I am not claiming that birth is the only formative experience in a woman’s life, or even the primary one. I am saying that it is a stark and memorable view we get of ourselves: A moment a woman can’t trick herself, or look away. In other words, it is an opportunity.
I believe we need to be in the process of getting answers to those deep questions and fears before we get into the birthing room, because we often take what we see of ourselves (and are told by others about ourselves) in birth as the answer. Then we take that answer to the world.

So ladies, I would like to hear your thoughts and learn from you: What resources have helped you with discovering/recovering your identity, and finding the nature of your self-worth? Any other thoughts?

an additional topic

2011-04-06T08:06:00.003-05:00

The first rose of spring- wish I could photograph the scent for you!
Almost every girl I know creates something: Art, craft, things practical and spectactical (like that Ogden Nashism?) events, memories, something. It’s a big part of our lives. It’s also the last topic of our conversations. We are not talking about French Seams anymore, we are talking about night nursing. We are talking about teething and pregnancy and raising truly ill children with a sense of normalcy.
The picture in the last post is so old that those pajamas don’t fit Thacia anymore, but I haven’t made anything lately so I haven’t posted.

It’s kind of against the rules to change the content of your blog or to diversify too much, but when I started this 4 years ago I was in a completely different phase of life. To write about what I am truly passionate about means I have to change the subject. It’s not enough to add a life detail here and there because you could say that my philosophizing has moved from the sewing stool to the birthing stool.

I have been very absent from this space these past few months because I have been making space inside of myself both literally and figuratively. Our family is beginning a new odyssey, a new pregnancy, and we are thrilled! It also means I am thinking long and hard about pregnancy, birth, motherhood, and womanhood. I am considering these things in the context of my faith, and then reversing it to think about my faith in the context of these life shaping forces.

What I am seeing is so indistinct right now. I am only seeing shifting silhouettes through a mist, but I can sense that my life calling is looming out there in the dawn, and it doesn’t center on a sewing machine. The gift of creativity is to look at a thing or an idea in a new light, and master the skills to make something meaningful of it. That is exactly what each young mother I know is doing every day. It is so much easier to make things like quilts and dresses and gardens that have beginnings and ends– things you can hold in your hands. To have profound influence on something as ephemeral as a psyche, as eternal as a soul is a much greater challenge to creative vision than any design problem we’ll ever face.

I won’t stop writing about things I make, but I am hereby giving myself permission to write about other things: Things people Facebook and call me about every single day, like EC and pregnancy. Things I journal about like the intersection (or lack thereof) of our birthing culture and our church culture. My posts may lean on that side for a little while because 1) I am pregnant so I am thinking about it, and 2) I have some making up to do.

mama told me there'd be weeks like this

2011-02-24T18:59:00.003-06:00

On Monday I thought it was Thursday, and Tuesday was like Monday in that way, though Wednesday had me convinced it was Friday. Just one of those weeks that the child had 3 changes of clothes before I got out of my pajamas, and it took a whole day to get the bed made. Thank goodness I don't have to comb my hair, because that would have been a lost cause!
She has redoubled her hatred of sleep. The mornings have been early, the naps have been hard-fought.
My big internet search of the week was "toddler tantrums."
The advice on tantrums is conflicting: "Protect her physically, but allow the charge of gunpowder to work itself out. Sun will follow the storm."
"Spank."
"Distract."
"Comfort."
Ugh.
And then I realized Thacia is learning so much daily– kisses, sounds, how to put things in, not just take them out, what the telephone is for, and a total obsession with walking. Oh, she is nervous to take independent steps, but it won't be long now. All of this learning is punctuated by total meltdowns as something she was ardently trying to accomplish goes awry, usually in ways mysterious to me, but I'll take her word for it.
I always feel uncertain when I am learning things too. I want a "big person" to let me know it's alright. And when I realized that's all this is, I was able to relax and take advantage of her new-found cuddliness. So I didn't get all the socks matched on account of her creative help. Who needs matching socks? Sometimes these early gray mornings bring really great sunsets.

romper reality

2011-02-17T19:20:00.005-06:00

I had pulled a slip of paper from my jar of challenges, praying that it would not say "65. Make neon tasteful." To my relief it read "4. Focus on texture," the very thing I was eager to do!
Though I was going to make this pattern to share, the textural focus made it a difficult pattern to write... so no pattern for you.

I chose a herringbone type cable for the body of the romper, sort of measured one of her pajamas as a pattern, and went for it. For the buttons I used vintage mother of pearl. They all sort of almost match each other. You may or may not have noticed that the tabs at the shoulders and the placket underneath fasten the opposite way you might an older child's clothes. That wasn't a mistake... I know. SURE. But really, this girl is a genius at taking her clothes off, so I positioned the buttons so it is harder for her to get naked. This is common practice in baby clothes, but I find it more obvious on sweater knits.

I love the color. Obviously. It's the same color as this bag, these curtains, and any other ridiculous number of things I own. Greige is dangerous for me.

I may yet apply I-cord to the back neck of the sweater. The front already has it knit in.
I went for a longer length than the popular bathing suit length. I thought it would be a little fuller on bottom than it turned out. Maybe I would add an extra pattern or two of the cables if I did it again. However, it fits and looks charming and surprisingly ungendered!

About the sticks, Thacia spends a measurable percentage of her day gathering sticks from the yard into bouquets. Such a cute phase! Will her passion for yard work last into her teens?

agnes malthace is one!

2011-02-16T13:33:00.005-06:00

Happy Birthday Thacia! One year ago today we rejoiced over your birth, rode the ambulance, spent the anxious waiting period in the Pedi-ER and started our vigil in the NICU. Today you are healthy, sharp, and resolutely pleasant. What an answer to prayer!

Saturday we threw her first birthday party. I keep seeing these huge birthday bashes for little kids on blogs and find them overwhelming! There were no custom ordered decorations, coordinating favors, or bounce houses. It was a medium-sized family affair. There was a bit of a robin's egg/pinkish-red color theme going, but nothing strict. Our dining room is too small to fully unfold the table, so we all cozied up to it as best we could. I could not have anticipated what a good experience that would be as everyone was able to be in the same conversation!

Central to our considerations was the food. It had to be a) good and b) pretty. Mama Donna and I made up pots of chili blanco, venison chili, and a few loaves of whole wheat French bread. Thank goodness for crock pots! We were able to mix everything up the night before. The morning of the party we practically only had to set the table. For dessert we made raspberry chocolate pie pops tucked into a vase of strawberries and served with Blue Bell ice cream. You can keep your Haagen dazs, your Breyers, or your Ben & Jerry's, I'll stick to Blue Bell!

We also had a cookie cake to put the candle in for the non-pie eaters amongst us.

If Thacia looks super-serious, chalk it up to using every power of observation she possesses on this stimulating day! There were no tears and so many fun moments.

She received quite a few feely-books which are a big hit, as well as pinwheels, and stuffed toys.

My mother got her a soft baby doll in a pea-pod, which Thacia hugged twice as she pulled it out of the bag. We all melted! She's been practicing giving the baby kisses which look alarmingly like bites! The crown is an i-cord headband from a friend. We did a craft of making Valentines to finish off Thacia's baby book after opening gifts.

We were pushing close to nap time, but Thacia finished the afternoon off in style by wearing my mother's pearls! Pin the nose on Elmo is in the background here, mostly for the comic potential of a showdown between Daniel and one of my brothers.
Thanks everyone for a great, relaxing party!

romper inspiration

2011-02-10T10:29:00.003-06:00

Have you noticed all the great rompers floating around out there in the nether? They are being made for older girls, not just babies, and they have more of a bathing suit fit lately. These pictures are of Wovenplay rompers from the publication Selvedge. (Thanks Kelley!)

I love the hot pink paired with white, the creative use of stripes with seaming, and the ruching that gives the bottom side more of a belled fit apart from the traditional romper fitting. It's so high-end and special!

Look, she's a little ruffled fairy!
These images were rolling around in my mind all fall. It seemed to me like making a wool romper would be a great way to be able to actually knit something meaningful for Thacia that she can wear in the unpredictable Texas weather. I didn't want to knit her a big sweater she could only wear twice! With a romper I can put leggings and a turtleneck underneath, or leave her bare-legged depending on the weather. It is pretty much the same concept as when I made myself wool shorts here.

When my mother showed me a skein of natural colored greige yarn she was spinning on commission I knew that was the yarn I wanted, so I did what any daughter of a yarn store owner would: I begged shamelessly and played the grand baby card. I had to wait until New Years Day for it, but it was worth the wait. If you actually pay for it, you don't have to wait for her yarn. See it here. Oh, this yarn! It is the color of flour when you add brown sugar. It is soft and nubbly in texture as handspun should be!
I feel like I have no time to knit whatsoever. How are all these mothers of small children doing it? I've been almost done for 2 weeks now, and this post is my attempt to motivate myself into finishing before the weather gets so warm she can only wear it... twice.
In the meantime it is fabulous just to knit. Handspun wool has a texture nothing else does. So springy. So much like a hug. I love wool. I even love the smell of raw dirty wool. True story.

romancing the unknown

2011-02-08T11:07:00.005-06:00

A doily because it's Valentine's, a golden tangle because love is complicated but worth it!
There are so many amazing Valentine's Day crafts and foods online right now. Two of my favorites are Pineapple Paintbrush's Valentine art projects, and Our Best Bites... um... Valentine everything! But heart shaped stuff is not really what I am thinking about right now. Perhaps having a child whose birthday is near Valentine's Day has changed my perspective, or maybe it is just being a mother. I am making a mental shift to a more nurturing idea for the holiday. As a child it was all about the carefree crafts for me: The decorated "mailbox," the thumbprint kitties to make on valentines. Then puberty hit, and at least for us girls things like Valentine's Day and the last night of summer camp got really complicated!
The complication is mainly in my head since nothing changed. I mean, I didn't have a boyfriend when I was 7 and I still didn't have one at 17! But the cultural and emotional shift is a lose/lose proposition for the genders. Not having a boyfriend or date on Valentine's Day (or the sock hop, or whatever) is devastation pure and simple for most females, because we want to know we are desirable, and as a society we have decided the way to know that is to have an escort.
In college Valentine's Day was the glummest day of the year, especially since I went to a mainly female school! For the most part the girls with boyfriends were no cheerier than the girls without because no man can deliver on the hype set up by FTD, restaurants, and cheesy chick flicks. The advertisers associate surroundings labeled romantic with feelings of love and fulfillment. Humanly speaking, even if our poor men can "get it right" our expectations are so high we will still be disappointed because we are looking for feelings of fulfillment, satisfaction and love in the wrong place. What man in his right mind could enter that fray with well-placed confidence? The whole system is doomed to fail, and who wants self-imposed failure in their romance?
I am seeking to shift my attention this Valentine's Day to emotional satisfaction that delivers something besides the bitter after-taste of too much chocolate on an empty fantasy.

How many studies need to be published before we acknowledge that giving rather than receiving is a primary basis for contentment or that centering your focus outside of yourself is the road to satisfaction? Valentine's Day seems like the perfect time to turn the me-centered-giving-to-receive social norm (even to our kids, heaven help us!) on its head and love without expecting anything. Not even personal satisfaction.
I have been very challenged lately by the idea of not just giving or volunteering, but of giving and volunteering in a way unique to my design. Not that there is anything wrong with just showing up and doing what needs to be done. Plenty of that needs doing! But I sometimes take that as a license not to think or be creative, or give my very best to my family or community. It will take a lot more planning, time, training, and creativity, but I am determined to put this idea of unique giving into practice personally by beginning the road to birth doula certification!
A doula is a companion and advocate for a birthing mother: Someone who brings a perspective to the birthing room that is less anguished than that of a partner or mother, and more intent on the psycho-social well-being of the birthing mother than a midwife or OB responsible for medical well-being can afford to be in the moment. Statistically women who have such a helper have better birth experiences, better bonding with their babies, and subsequently their family life is positively affected. Birth is such a formative experience for every woman who experiences it. It affects the way she views herself, her family, and her world. You would think it would be something we all celebrated together, but it is an awkward subject full of pitfalls and deep emotions. We tend to focus on the medical issues that arise during labor because that is concrete and not laden with the feelings of guilt, failure or ambiguity that lace how an alarming proportion of women with whom I've spoken view themselves in birth.
I want to explore: What are the ways of God as applied to birth? I am not speaking of dogma on medical intervention or non-intervention here. Plenty of blogs and websites are beating that with a stick. I am talking about questions of love, faith, tenderness, strength, and relationship! I anticipate with both pleasure and dread the ways the training and experiences will challenge, stretch, and change me. I want to contribute something skillful, loving and thoughtful to the world in addition to the things of beauty I create. I want to contribute something that is unique to me, but not about me. Something that widens the circle of my love beyond my spouse, or my family, or close friends. The challenge speaks to something deep within me. I have no doubt that my marriage (and romance!) and other relationships will actually gain from the release of pressure as I turn my needful feelings into action directed toward meeting the needs of others rather than half hoping for someone to discern my needs and meet them.
And you? What are you thinking about Valentine's Day? Do you have any tips on how can we change the stress we place on romance in our relationships?

found: hand embroidered fantasy linens

2011-02-06T19:32:00.004-06:00

Pretend with me for a moment that it is Friday, because my mother has found something truly fantastic! Since she brought the goods on Thursday I could easily have posted on Friday, but we were a bit preoccupied with crankiness from being forced indoors. I am sure this sounds so silly to those of you dear readers who live in icier climates. It was about 18F with a bitter wind. Living in south central Texas our house is made to be cool in the hot weather, but fails entirely in cold. Besides being thin-skinned (our winter day today was in the 60s!) we also don't have adequate clothing for this sort of inclemency. Right. So we were cranky.

But then Friday we woke to this! Once again, to you wry observers in northern climes, I apologize for my amazement. I have lived in places that got plenty of snow, this just isn't one of them! So our little lady got her first snow day...

complete with daddy getting to stay home because we don't have salting trucks and few know how to drive on ice here. The few who do have that skill like my husband stay home because of all the lunatics driving fast because they think their 4 wheel drive will protect them! So this is our cozy snow day, and we get to admire LINENS!

My mother found them in an estate sale and rightly snatched them up. They are priceless, or at least I could never afford them. To the best I can tell these are hand appliqued and embroidered including the cut work. The bouillon stitches are tiny and perfect.

Am I right in saying most of us would settle for having accomplished one of these exquisite ships in our lifetime? Well, there are 5 different kinds.

All 5 appear on the runner. 2 apiece show up on each napkin. Two. And there are 15 napkins.

That's 35 tiny, perfect ships. And that doesn't even count...

the sea monsters! This is just one, but there are just as many monsters. Doesn't it look like Narnia? My mother believes they are not, in fact, of Narnian origin, but that they are from the Netherlands.
Which is pretty cool too. The only problem is that I can never ever ever use them except when serving extremely dry bread and water lest any one of the 15 napkins get their first stain. So I'll have to stick with the napkins I embroidered a few years ago. (Sacrilege! I only showed you one? Shame on me.)

Lastly just for fun here is a picture of the girl wearing the hat and sweater her Granna made her for Christmas. The cap is crocheted, the sweater knit. Both are a bit over sized, so I threaded elastic through the brim of the cap and rolled up the sleeves for church this morning. Oops. I mean next Sunday morning. 'Cause this is Friday. Right.

virtual home tour: bathroom

2011-02-02T14:38:00.003-06:00

The last room I will show is the bathroom. The baby room is not that extraordinary at this point, and you don't want to see the mess in the teeny-tiny provisional studio. Really you don't!

Because this isn't really in any of the rooms I am just including this picture to show the original cedar beam, the very thick hand quarried limestone walls, and the custom stained hardwood floor. I am not proud of them or anything!

And let's get a close-up of that cutie!

Okay. The bathroom. I've already shown you the linen closet here and the bird hooks here. We had to rip it apart pretty thoroughly including tile and drywall. The tile we replaced with river rock from the Guadalupe. As I've said, you pay for nice things in cash or time. This project was time intensive, but so worthwhile! I painted over the posts in the corners, which I wouldn't have done if I'd known we were going to sell it later. In such a small space I wanted it all one color. Others may have different opinions. I also covered up the linen shelving with a bamboo shade that picks up the warm brown of the floor, and we added a wicker laundry hamper that looks similar.

Chinoiserie continues from the bedroom to the bathroom in the form of a printed shade. You can sort of see in the next picture (especially if you click on it to enlarge) that the bottom of the shade is another stick.

The rock floors weren't difficult per say, just time consuming. I learned you want very very flat skipping stones about the size of a half dollar. I troweled on white tile cement and laid the rocks evenly, working in small sections. After that dried, Daniel filled the gaps with white tile mortar, wiping off the tops of the rocks with a sponge. After that dried, he used a super cheap natural bristle brush to brush a light coat of garage floor epoxy over the top to seal it. Watch out for fumes!

As in the rest of the rooms I used a pinkish white paint, but I will never use a flat finish again. It looks fantastic until someone touches it or squashes a bug. It's totally impossible to clean, even with a magic sponge! The wall texture in this and the other rooms we dry-walled is reminiscent of linen book bindings. We mixed up a soupy texture, rolled it on in small sections, and went over it with the same Ralph Lauren brush and check roller you would use for his linen look wall glazes. A pain? Yes. So worth it not to have the exact same spattered wall texture as everyone else? You be the judge. I think so!

virtual home tour: bedroom

2011-02-01T12:44:00.002-06:00

Today I need to show you my bedroom because this is a long day, and bleak! We need something pretty to brighten it up, no?
For brightening, vintage linens never fail me. The pillow cases were made by a great-grandmother, and I found the spread in a garage sale. I mentally told myself "If it is $50 or under I'll go ahead and buy it." No matter that I was broke and in college! I asked the price and the lady asked "Um. Is $5 too much?" Out of respect for the crocheter I didn't bargain!

I used another pale pink in this room, with creamy crown molding. The window sills are 18" deep, deep enough to keep your book and a glass of water in a room too small for a night stand.

We used a lot of touches of chinoiserie, which seems appropriate in this most serene of all rooms.

The cast iron hat stand echoes the laciness of the bed linens.

This is my view from bed. The limestone was hand quarried in the 1800s and the ends of the beams are exposed. The play of light is always lovely.

virtual home tour: living room

2011-01-26T10:06:00.003-06:00

Our living room is the heart of this home, and it typifies my design strategy. Keeping in mind my key word, Serene, we have focused on monochromatic texture in the living spaces. It gives a feeling of spaciousness important when you have fewer than 900 sq. feet of actual space! The survey says it is bigger, but 18 inch walls take a bite out of your rooms.

The walls are stucco over limestone, and the stone shows in a few places. We replaced the tongue and groove ceiling and whitewashed it. The walls are a soft pink-white that makes your skin glow. I chose it because I wanted the rooms to look warm without going the brown-red-tan-yellow route that is the shortcut to warmth. Dark colors would make this house feel like a bunker!

We also replaced the blue carpet with rustic red oak floors. We used a custom Cabot stain mixed to be the same color as the mortar between the exposed limestone blocks. I felt that a normal orangey-brown stain would be shocking here, and I wanted less contrast.
In this picture you can see just a hint of the heavy cedar beam original to the house. We made the book shelves with salvaged crates from the barn. A chrome lamp serves as a link between the rough/industrial elements of the room and the feminine furniture.

Shhh... don't tell anyone that I didn't spend hundreds of dollars on heavy linen for the curtains. They are recycled fabric drop cloths from home depot. Fooled you didn't they?

Carved wood, velvet, and silk aren't too femme alongside the rustic flooring and stucco texture.

I never get tired of the shadows in the wall texture and stone.

I've used branches in various rooms for continuity. Also they are a kind of sculpture free for all mankind.

virtual home tour: kitchen

2011-01-26T09:50:00.003-06:00

When we first moved in the kitchen was all primary colors. The yellow tile counters were bad enough, but the red and white cabinetry and gingham curtains left me listening for the preschool invasion. Now it is a place I love to be.

Unfortunately it is a very dim room and difficult to photograph the actual color of the cabinets. I painted them a dark glossy chocolate with verdigris doors. I never intended the yellow to stay, but it could be worse. We salvaged sticks for the door handles to bring the outside in a little. A free project, but time consuming. You will always pay a high price for well-crafted things in money or time. Your choice.

The tile was in place when we came. I am glad to have had these checked floors and white porcelain kitchen sink in one house. The upkeep will keep me from overwhelming desire of them in future houses.

I added copper toned tins by the window for a warm homey feel. My favorite is the fish. I use animal objects whenever I find them. Somehow they always seem so personal!

I left one red thing: The pinstripes on the antique door. Those I love.

virtual home tour: dining room

2011-01-24T10:10:00.003-06:00

When we first purchased our house it took a while to fall in love with this room. It was barren. Worse, we spent the first 6 months sleeping in a tent in the yard because we couldn't breathe in the house. The kitchen and dining room were okay to be in, but they inevitably acquired an immense amount of junk in them while we renovated. Also the doors were very drafty and it was stifling in the summer, frigid in the winter.
This arrangement of the shelf, mirror, and glass changed my attitude toward the room.

The classic checked tile is a winning feature as are the vaulted ceilings. The cedar beams are also nice, and of course the stone is lovely. I replaced the puffy valances with clouds printed on them in favor of tailored linen, and the blue plastic blinds gave way to bamboo roll shades. Wherever possible I tried to replace "fake" things: plastic, crazy prints– with real materials like wood, stone, or natural fibers.

The front door is cedar too.

Okay. From the top. First I found the mirror at Goodwill. It was covered in stickers, but I saw potential, and I watered down some old yellow paint and slopped it on top of the blue.

Then I needed something to hang it on. Anthropologie had these lovely butterfly and sunflower brackets for way too much money. I got them for my birthday. Since then I have found places that sell them for about $2.00 apiece. I just refuse to think about it.

Then I needed something to put on top of the brackets as a shelf. I rifled around the lower barns and found this trough-type thing in terrible shape. I scrubbed and scrubbed it with vinegar and water and then after it dried coated it in restorative wax.

Then it all just sat there forever needing something on the shelf! (Will it never end?) And finally I tried a lot of things but ended up putting different shaped glass and crystal objects up there, plus shells in a hurricane lamp. The effect is so subtle I think no one will see it, but everyone comments on it so I guess they do! The rock wall is nearly impossible to mount things on, but has such a strong pattern of its own, it is like art.

So this is funny. When we first moved in that door led from the dining room into the bedroom, which is an odd connection, but you see that piece of art? behind it is a WINDOW into the bedroom! We sheet rocked both, Thank you very much!

This is what the door became. The immense thickness of the walls gave us room in the doorway to make a hall closet, which makes the whole room more suitable to be the entry hall cum dining room it is.

virtual home tour: outside

2011-01-24T09:43:00.004-06:00

View from home looking east into the sunrise

I have finally captured and organized photos to put together a virtual home tour for you. It is too much to put in one post so I will show room by room and you can skip what you don't want to know about. On the inside I will show you what we did and tell you a little about my design principles for this particular interior. I look forward to it!

When I work on a project I try to pick a word that describes it. Serene is the word I picked for our home. You can see why.

The house is about 165 years old, built around the same time as the state of Texas was annexed to the US. This was still very dangerous territory at that time.

The exterior is hand quarried local limestone, and board-and-batten. In the oldest parts of the house, the walls are 18 inches thick, including interior walls.

The picket fence was handmade by someone who really cared. I wish we could stay long enough to restore it.

The barn was built in the 40s. We call it Daniel's man palace. It is a combination shop and dairy barn, with a hay loft we enjoy rappelling out of. Not that it is that high, it's just fun to rappel off something you own. The climbing ropes have been handy a few times, especially one day when the roof was blowing off in a wind storm. Daniel had to rope himself in to repair it.

Welcome to our home!

revenge

2011-01-20T15:44:00.004-06:00

This sketchbook was a huge challenge to me both in terms of how short a time I had to finish it, and the subject. I was hoping, as I've said, to be assigned a lighter topic, but revenge it was. Drawing -when you have practiced it a long time at least- allows you to discover things about your point of view that the left side of your brain won't admit to. That was definitely the case here, because if I talk about revenge and pain I have some nice pat answers. After all, I've read the books, know the points, etc. How I should act and react in this crazy world is more amorphous in practice.

I am distinctly nervous to publish this. I am almost certain it will offend just about everyone I know for wildly conflicting reasons. It is one thing to put your work in a show and another to display it to friends and family. I am disciplining myself to do it, however, because I promised and because the point of this blog is to journal my creative work.

There is a reason for almost every single line, and definitely for every visual choice I made but I would rather let it unfold for you without my voice. So without further ado: Revenge.

Click through to Flickr for a larger version.

librarian to luxe

2011-01-13T13:36:00.007-06:00

Makeover time!

A huge mistake people make with thrifting is buying ill-fitting albeit interesting pieces to begin with. Sartorial success starts with the fit. If it doesn't fit, nothing you do to it or wear with it will fix the problem.
This skirt caught my eye because it had a few things going for it: Gray tweed is timeless, the cut is nice over the hips, and the black-piped pockets are a good touch.
As a business uniform, it was impeccable. There is definitely a place in the wardrobe for anonymous well-tailored pieces, but if your wardrobe is full of Jane Does, something needs a makeover!

I stitched the back slit shut, then trimmed a few inches off the hemline to bring it slightly above the knee. It is still office appropriate, (at least in the offices I've worked) but party-ready too!
One reason hemming is loathsome is all the measuring and pinning. Trying to turn tweed under 1/2" evenly is tricky, so I cut very carefully, then stitch around the bottom at 1/2". This keeps it from unraveling and allows you to evenly pin a fabric that laughs in the face of a conventional steam iron!

I exchanged the ho-hum plastic button for something more custom. Clothes and kitchens have this in common: Changing the hardware changes everything!
I also added the paillette and bead details around the bottom. The beads remind me of rolling aluminum foil beads as a child.

Why it works: The tone-on-tone paillettes and beads add sparkle without going overboard. The new button references the new shine and the angularity of the pocket trim.

Wear it to the office with a twin set and sensible Farragamos.
Wear it to a party with a black lace blouse and vertiginous heels.
Wear it on the weekend with a caramel colored leather jacket, white t, and Chucks.

bootie-licious

2011-01-07T10:20:00.004-06:00

My little baby isn't a little baby anymore! This morning she fed herself, drank out of a non-sippy cup by herself, signed to me when she was full, then went to the potty on her own potty. After that she helped dress herself by following instruction. There is a little bemused grief there. Not that I want to be doing those things for her for the rest of her life, but I have been doing them for her this year, and it has been sweet and wonderful.

These booties were designed and made for Thacia for Christmas by my supremely talented sister Anna, and you will be seeing more from her! Anna has posted her pattern on Ravelry, so if you would like more information on that, I will share! I love the slouch, love the pompons, but most of all I love the color combination. Anna makes color combinations that would never occur to me, and they are fabulous! In this case, coral pink variegation, wine colored ties, and one coral, one navy pompon. Perfect and unexpected! Not for the parent overly concerned with current ideas about matching, which I am obviously not, as I paired it with purple pants. The more colors, the merrier. Speaking of merry:

Christmas for me never comes in December because my family celebrates New Year's Day. (Less competition with in-laws over married children!) It was only fitting, then, that when we couldn't get together to make Christmas cookies before Christmas, a friend and I decorated cookies after the New Year. I hadn't ever made sugar cookies by myself before. My grandma always makes them so I just decorate!

I learned some important tips:
1) Roll the cookies out on parchment paper, then just remove the trimmings from around the cookies so you don't have to transfer.

What do you call the leftovers after you've used a cookie cutter? I am tempted to say selvage but that's my inner seamstress coming out...

2) Instead of using flour when rolling out the dough, use powdered sugar to dust the rolling pin and parchment. Brilliant!

sartorialist

2011-01-06T21:27:00.003-06:00

Two loves intersect! Lee over at 2 or 3 Things just posted this video of the Sartorialist Scott Schuman. I love to see the creative processes of others. He has such an eye for detail and such a rich aesthetic. So while I am too busy being creative to share my process, enjoy!
P.S. See it full screen

some of the details are sketchy

2010-12-29T12:47:00.005-06:00

Sometimes when I am happiest I create the saddest things. Maybe it is the only time I feel I can bravely look at some parts of life without getting mired in it. This season I did not set out to draw discomforting things, it just came by assignment through the assigned Sketchbook Project theme revenge. Later I will probably post the whole thing nicely scanned, but for now here are a few of the pages I drew over Christmas. They are in story order. You can click the image for an enlargement on my flickr page.

As I drew this image of the twin towers I was surprised by how moved I still am by the tragedy. When I entered FIT as a freshman I could still smell the smoke. When I left as a senior there were still pictures of the missing posted at the hospital. I just want to pluck the plane out of the sky and stop the further ensuing loss.

Something I love about drawing is that your subconscious has a louder voice through your hands. I learned that in my heart of hearts I don't want the lion to lay down with the lamb, I want lions to be transfigured into lambs. That is inadequate because it does not rectify wrongs. That is why Christ is shown in Revelation as both lion and lamb. He combines perfect innocence and self-sacrifice with perfect strength and justice. Charles Manley Hopkins mentioned a lamb-lion in one of his "Terrible Sonnets." This could maybe just as easily be a deep appeal for the balance of justice and mercy. By the way: Does anyone know why heraldic animals always face to their right, our left? I wanted it the other way for the flow of the book, and it doesn't exist. Had to flip the lions I referenced in my mind.

For the daughter of a heavy equipment salesman I am woefully ignorant of the hind ends of tractors. This is me trying to make my ignorance look artistic!

Here it is clear this family group needs rescuing, but vague as to what from. I can't tell if they are cowering from something inside or outside. The burglar bars give the picture a trapped/enclosed feeling, yet the locks on the door seem flimsy to me, as if the family is jailed but not protected. I couldn't bring myself to fully detail their pain, so there is a lot of shadow inside of their huddle.

I am uncertain whether this is finished yet. Guerrilla warriors, tough guys all. They are always far far too young, it seems to me. It was easy and reassuring to draw the truck-- I am proud of the near-perfect Toyota emblem on the front! It was as easy to draw it as it is to make a clever outline as to the political and cultural reasons for these crusades, but how can we wrap our human minds around the vengeance and destruction? How can we learn that these problems don't have crisp Toyota-outline answers with parts to assemble in order? I don't know that it is possible.

And now, as a complete mood lifter, I love these fabrics for their sense of humor. What would you do with the stag print or the glasses print? And don't tell me you would make an eyeglasses case, because at $16.95 a yard I'll call your bluff.

away in a manger

2010-12-24T21:58:00.000-06:00

Little Lord of nothing now–
yours were swirling star streams,
yours the secret flame of bursting bud,
the too-full laughter of the Trinity.

Cry rough cloth, clinging cold,
cry new need,
cry aching inadequacy of
mother-love.

Merry Christmas

the four holy gospels illuminated

2010-12-22T10:57:00.004-06:00

"We, today, have a language to celebrate waywardness, but we do not have a cultural language to bring people back home." –Makoto Fujimura

jayber crow

2010-12-22T10:17:00.004-06:00

A leaf at the beginning reads,
“NOTICE Persons attempting to find a ‘text’ in this book will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a ‘subtext’ in it will be banished; persons attempting to explain, interpret, explicate, analyze, deconstruct, or otherwise ‘understand’ it will be exiled to a desert island in the company only of other explainers.
BY ORDER OF THE AUTHOR.”

Note the bold use of the semicolon. Inspiring.
With such a strong warning I can’t possibly give you a CliffsNotes version. The truly wonderful thing is that I couldn’t anyway. Shall I explain?
 I picked it up at Half Price Books –a store I could spend any amount of money in– for my grandmother for Christmas. My goal was to find something clean and engaging for her. I read it ahead of her to make sure my goal was met!
I was drawn to Wendell Berry because I love his poetry and essays, though I’d never read one of his novels. It is very engaging, and clean enough to be in this world, but not so clean as to be fully of the next. This is as it should be.
You see, I tend to shy away from authors of Christian faith because I am disgusted by the sweet bows that tend to tie their story together and the nice neat morals they draw from each thinly imagined tale. The ease with which these fairy stories draw to a close bespeak a shallow understanding of life to me. On the other hand, authors close to my age and of like mind leave their narratives in chaos because we are too young to see the end, too inexperienced to know that we don’t yet, and will not fully understand Redemption.
Once again I appreciate Berry’s fruitful seniority, his keen insight, his complicated faith, his wry humor, and poetic text and cadence. Every word and every pause is a keystone to which nothing can be added or removed.

long winter's nap

2010-12-21T11:06:00.003-06:00

Loving
The new armchair that arrived for me yesterday

The sparkle of brass at Christmas

My house with the white picket fence
Is it time to read yet?

portraits that pop

2010-12-17T20:00:00.005-06:00

The idea was two portraits for two sisters. I started at the logical place: Goodwill. The thing about Goodwill frames is that you don't pay much money for them in acknowledgment that you will spend the equivalent in time cleaning the glass. Fair enough. So I found this 9-compartment frame with all of the windows at different depths and was intrigued. I knew it was a risk, and not just because I might not get all those little windows clean before Christmas! Nevertheless, I forged ahead.

I came up with a likeness I was happy with. You can alter photos with software or have them sent away to get something like this, but to me there is magic in the human factor. I am surprised every time I draw a person that moving the mouth or eyes just a hair makes a likeness.
I held my breath.
Then I cut the paper into 9 squares.
Now if this were a landscape this probably would have been fine. The frame cut 2 lines into the width and 2 lines into the height, so it should have evened out, except...

It split the eyes and nose wider, but didn't make the nose longer. So it is no longer a good likeness. I set it on one side of the room hoping I was wrong, but I looked and breathed a sigh of relief. It looks just like the other sister! I could probably figure out a way to redraw and shift things to get the likeness back, but so close to Christmas I think I'll cut and run!
The gamble paid off, and I like the way it turned out. Hopefully so will she.

granola goodness

2010-12-16T14:08:00.004-06:00

There are many opinions about breakfast, but in this household it seems easier to carpe our diem with a filling meal under our belts. Granola is our usual breakfast of choice, and I've been tweaking this recipe for a long time.

I try to make two batches at a time to save myself trouble. Granola freezes nicely, but I have never had to freeze any since marriage!
The biggest mistake with granola is scorching it by trying to get it to clump in the oven. Granola actually clumps as it cools, not as it cooks. To get softer granola pile it deep in a lasagna pan. For crunchier granola try a cookie sheet. If I am missing any particular ingredient like oat bran, I substitute the same amount of oatmeal.

Granola

Ingredients

8 c rolled oats
1 1/2 c wheat germ
1 1/2 c oat bran
1 c sunflower seeds
1 c finely chopped almonds
1 c finely chopped pecans
1 c finely chopped walnuts
1/4 t salt
1/4 c brown sugar
1/2 c honey
1 c vegetable oil
1 t ground cinnamon
1 t vanilla extract
1 c raisins
1 c mixed dried fruit
1/4 c flax seed

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees. Line two large baking sheets with parchment or aluminum foil. Combine the oats, wheat germ, oat bran, sunflower seeds, almonds, pecans, and walnuts in a large bowl.
Stir together the salt, brown sugar, honey, oil, cinnamon, and vanilla in a saucepan. Bring to a boil over medium heat, then pour over the dry ingredients and stir to coat. Spread the mixture out evenly on the baking sheets. Bake until crispy and toasted, about 20 minutes. Stir once halfway through.
Cool, then stir in fruit and flax seed before storing in an airtight container.

horse crazy

2010-12-15T15:19:00.004-06:00

Every girl is supposed to go through a horse obsessed phase, so go ahead and count this as mine. I first saw these Spanish style horses from a gate in New Mexico here.
Between trying to file recipes and mopping I guiltily squeezed in a little time to wood burn one of our armoires to sell. Guilt, I say, because I have 150 bazillion gifts to be making!

Also loving Gabrielle's mugs and Gabriela's quirky slippers!

catch the light

2010-12-14T21:34:00.004-06:00

Saturday I did my very first photo shoot for people to whom I am unrelated. For someone as perfectionist as I, this was fraught with peril.
The nerves hit me about Sunday afternoon or so, because I can see lots of technical mistakes.
Still, there were some serendipitous shots.
This is why no one goes to Sears to get their portraits done anymore. With the digital era amateurs can at least take a high enough number of photos to have some turn out well!
I won't be going pro any time soon. I'll stick to sewing!

found: more ideas than you can shake a stick at

2010-12-10T10:18:00.003-06:00

Ideas are something I rarely run out of, but there is always the chance, which is why I write down random challenges for myself just in case. This is a way I can show up in dry moments. I sometimes also just try to grit it out and finish things I have started to try to get some momentum.
How about you? What do you do when you are out of inspiration?

Be inspired by a flower.
Make something “childish” for an adult.
Update an idea from an old magazine.
Focus on texture.
Reference a trend.
Make a vessel.
Let art or architecture inspire you.
Focus on a silhouette.
Use a blogger’s diy instructions and make it your own.
Learn to like a color you hate.
Reference music or literature.
Bead it.
Design album cover art for a band.
Hail a hero.
Try plaid.
Knit it.
Let an instrument inspire you.
Make something for someone famous.
Make something red.
Copy something from the runway your own way.
Embroider it.
Consult someone who inspires you.
Use applique.
Design something practical based on album cover art.
Give it too much of something!
What would (insert cartoon character’s name here) do?
Use a national flag (respectfully).
Embroider doodles or a pattern.
Use a photo as inspiration.
Use the reverse side.
Transform something ugly.
Mix and match your favorite (fill in the blank) from the past with your current favorite (fill in the blank).
Incorporate words.
Incorporate bones.
Incorporate origami.
Incorporate wire.
Make it mosaic-style.
Create something for the garden.
Transform a light fixture.
Make a self-portrait.
Consult an old scout manual.
Finish a quilt your own way.
Cut into something nice– make it count!
Make an exotic article of clothing your own.
Use couture techniques on a humble item.
Challenge yourself in time, materials, budget, or technique.
Draw on it.
Use a cut-out technique of some sort.
Make it for free.
Make something costumey/dramatic for every day.
Take something that isn’t your style and transform it.
Reference a sport.
Alter your fabric.
Illustrate a poem.
Make something to sit on.
Use pleats.
Give it a great pocket.
Use your favorite children’s book as a starting place.
Set a time limit.
Make something holiday inspired.
Use a special surprising detail.
Finish an old project: figure out why you lost interest and change it!
Choose a Harris Burdick illustration that inspires you.
Make a calendar for next year.
Make neon tasteful.
Try papier mache.
Scrunch and pin a piece of fabric to an interesting shape. Make a sketch and item based on it.
Capture the essence of a loved-one.
Make a Rorshacht ink blot and incorporate it into your next project.
Choose a geometric shape and make something with only that shape.
Make something in your pet’s style– but for a human.
Make something tiny.
Make something oversized.
Research another culture’s toys.
Mix things that don’t go together and make them irresistible!
Choose a secret destination and have a friend choose a profession. Make something your character will need to take with them.
Use the random Google or Wiki button to find an idea.
Start that involved project you’ve been mulling over.
Make something for a baby.
Make something for charity.
Use paper.
Make something that is essential to the next season.
Choose a major life-event to make something for (coming of age, golden anniversary, wedding, empty nest, etc.).
Create something for a Youtube star.
Refinish it.
Learn a new technique.
Use piecing.
Reference a hobby.
Decorate a rock.
Copy someone’s technique on your own favorite subject.
Use an interesting detail for your own unique application.
Make a mobile.
Do something that makes your heart sing!
Use geometrics.
Be inspired by a letter.
Make something for your favorite movie character.
Commemorate someone special who has passed away.
Dance today, work tomorrow.
Make neckwear.
Design a visual pattern and use it on something.
Crack a visual joke.
Try out someone else’s design philosophy.
Make a favorite childhood craft.
Try a new color combination.
Capture the essence of a favorite song.
Build a better mousetrap, or whatever it is that’s making you crazy!
Make a hat.
Add a zipper. Be clever.
Try reverse applique.
Make an unlikely time-capsule.
Use lace.
Pick something from Threads (or another) Magazine and try it.
Trade abandoned projects with a friend and finish with freedom!
Use a found object.
Get inspired by a kitchen implement.
Adapt something from another time period.
Throw out a project you hate. Yeah. Doesn’t that feel good?

how to: make a dried orange wreath

2010-12-09T08:28:00.008-06:00

Dried oranges are classic for Christmas, and your house will smell great long after you are done baking them.
Once I started making wreaths this year I just couldn’t stop. They make great gifts if you can part with them, and are charmingly inexpensive.
I made 3 options to choose from here, but I can think of more, and I am sure you can too!

The basic instructions are listed first, with additions for each wreath listed separately.

Supplies:

knife
wire cutter or old scissors
cookie sheets
hot glue gun and glue
1 straw wreath form
1 foot floral or other heavy wire
1/2 yd fabric
4 lb bag of small oranges

Instructions:

1. Slice oranges into rounds between 1/8” and 1/4” thick, and spread on cookie sheets.

2. Bake at 200˚ until the slices are golden brown and pretty dry, with no mushiness to them (about 6 hours), turning every few hours or so. The more humid your area, the more you’ll want to be certain the slices are completely dried out. If you scorch a few by accident it won’t hurt! This is not an exact science, so expect some variation. If you don’t have 6 hours at a stretch to bake oranges, you can do it a few hours at a time over a few days with no ill effects.

3. Use floral wire (mine here is actually the wire recycled off a bundle of spinach!) to make a loop at the back of the wreath for hanging. Use a dot of hot glue to keep it from rotating up.

4. Tear your fabric into 3” strips, and wrap the wreath form, leaving the wire loop exposed. Secure fabric ends by tucking them in, or with a dot of hot glue.

5. Hot glue dried orange slices to completely cover your wreath form.

Glam
This wreath has serious holiday appeal-- pun fully intended! It will take you right through Christmas into the New Year without skipping a beat. I can't think of a wreath more completely of-the-moment than this. The texture, the glitz... I'm in love!
Supplies:

1 spool fine gold tone wire
1 250 count pkg gold paillettes (small hole)
knitting needle or barbeque skewer

Instructions:
1. Cut about 20-25 lengths of wire between 22” and 29” long.

2. Wrap each length of wire around the wreath so that the long ends face the front. Twist closed.

3. String a paillette onto one tail of the wire, and twist to hold in place. Repeat until there are 3-5 paillettes on each tail of wire. Coil the excess around the knitting needle or barbeque skewer like a spring.

4. Repeat steps 2 & 3 every 3” or so around, staggering the long ends toward the outside or inside so that they fill in the wreath.

Classic
You can't go wrong with this Christmas classic. It brings steaming gingerbread and hot cocoa to mind, not to mention how good it smells! For this wreath I really layered the orange slices to get a dimensional effect.

Supplies:

12 cinnamon sticks
2 cups fresh cranberries

Instructions:
1. Glue cinnamon sticks to the front of the wreath at different angles.

2. Glue fresh cranberries onto the wreath wherever they look right.

Crafty
Once again, a holiday wreath that is just as comfortable the rest of the winter. The prints of the ties clash charmingly!

Supplies:

seam ripper
iron
pinking shears
3 silk neck ties

Instructions:
1. Open up each necktie with seam ripper. Remove interfacing, and iron silk flat.

2. Cut 4 strips from each tie measuring 2” x 7” and trim the ends at 45˚ with pinking shears.

3. Tie strips in knots making sure the printed side is up, and glue in place.

special knowledge

2010-12-08T09:02:00.003-06:00

What does a baby know
emerging from utero
mysteries of the universe
flecking self-possessed
interior-focused gaze?

what does a baby know
chuckling in sleep about
the pleasures of amniotic
fluid and cosmic jokes
shared between angels?

she has much to forget
of the fabric of time and
composition of peace to learn
everyday marvels like spoon
and arithmetic.

revenge is mine

2010-12-07T09:00:00.002-06:00

28,787 artists from 94 countries are touring their sketchbooks in 8 cities in the US in 2011 through The Sketchbook Project. The show starts in March, but you can already see many pages here and here.
The project allows you to choose from different themes or have one picked for you at random. My favorite themes: Capture the Flag, Things That Changed Other Things, and And Then There Was None.
I allowed them to pick for me, because I like the surprise. I just about had a heart attack when saw my topic was revenge, because I am morally opposed to revenge. It has been a fun and challenging topic.

Peek is a really good word for looking at sketchbooks, because it means to look quickly, often in a furtive manner.

The tour hits Austin during South by Southwest, so come check out my whole book!

found stuff friday: a priceless bible story book

2010-12-03T08:45:00.005-06:00

Soon, I knew, I would have to go hunting for a Bible story book. There are many books out there that might fit the bill, but I am profoundly thankful that friends gave us The Jesus Storybook Bible at church one day.
The service had started as I flipped through it admiring the beautiful illustrations, when I had to stifle my laughter at the story of The Man Who Didn't Have Any Friends (None) . I still can't read it without laughing myself to tears! Then, when I saw that her first acknowledgment was to Dr. Timothy Keller, I was really sold.

Sally Lloyd Jones has lovingly retold the grand story of redemption with humor and a keen eye toward the central theme: Jesus.
It illustrates the continuity of God's great plan from Genesis to Revelation in a way that is both easy to understand and extremely profound. I am awed by how carefully crafted the stories are, and how they each tie back to Jesus. You might think you are reading for your kids, but you'll be surprised. They are the sermons from here (these free sermons are a gateway drug, by the way), in 6 minutes.
Get it for Christmas. Please.

be still

2010-12-02T08:59:00.003-06:00

This T design was a refreshing exception to the exasperating rule of designing shirts: Whoever commissions it thinks they haven't got anything particular in mind, so I work out some sketches. They say they can't imagine them as T-shirts, could I work them out in detail? So I spend a long time painting, drawing, collageing, photo-shopping all the options, and then they confirm what they secretly thought all along: They want something completely different than any offering!

Thank you, Janette, for being so easy on me!
It is kind of a found poem. The words are from Psalm 46:10 Be still and know that I am God.
I find the arabesque pattern meditative to read:

Be still and know Be still Be still Be still and know I am.
Know that I am God. Be still.

revelation

2010-12-01T13:02:00.003-06:00

The results are in: Thacia needs less sleep than I do. We have spent 9 months testing this theory, and at the end as proof we have the baby fat, joyful and developmentally on target, versus the mommy harrowed, self-doubting and possessor of a consistent stomachache on account of exhaustion.

Suddenly my mentality is changing– you know the dizzy feeling like suddenly being able to see the Magic Eye image in 3D where you saw nothing before. All this time I’ve thought I needed to find a way to help Thacia sleep. That will probably be an ongoing quest, but it isn’t THE quest. What I really need is to find ways to rest myself despite her energizer bunny constitution. I stand on tremulous conviction that this will become easier as she gets older. What I need and want is all any mother does, I think: The inner reassurance that with generous help on the part of God, my husband, and a host of others, I am doing my best, and my best, once again assisted, is and will be enough.

Throughout this journey– which is short when you count it as 18 months, but long when you consider they have been sleepless– I have been learning a few things. Somehow I think they are synthesizing today.

I have learned that pity passionately advises, but compassion is harder and more complex. I have learned that people want to help and fix things that don’t always have neat solutions, or any solutions at all. I have learned that I want them to give me these solutions because I just want things fixed, and then it frustrates me when they don’t work.
I have learned that the end of your rope is generally farther off than you expected, but at the same time, hanging alone is the pits. I have learned that resentment and anger are good indications that you need to change your circumstances.
I have come to believe that there are many, many methods to raising a baby successfully.
As far as babies sleeping goes, I have come to the conclusion that neither co-sleeping nor crying it out are as miraculous as their proponents claim, not as harmful as their detractors insist. That probably goes for much of human dogma. It seems to me that the overall intent and atmosphere of the home make the most difference.
I have relearned what I already knew: That everyone’s advice and theory comes from experience and their own interpretation, and we all need everyone else to agree because if they don’t, our tender assurance of success with our children might burst.

I am the worst of offenders with advice giving. My pastor in New York always says that we are by nature either fixers or feelers. Fixers leave you cold because they are without compassion, and feelers leave you helpless because they just cry puddles with you. Jesus is the perfect blend of both. I hope that this experience is moving me toward the center, toward Jesus’ stance. I hope it is leading me out of entrenchment in my methods and into a more neutral, open, prepared, and dare I say more helpful position with parenting and the rest of life too.

More than anything I am learning that a part of parenting is about 1) exercising my informed instinct for each new situation because my gut reaction will probably be overreaction, and having more facts gives me options. And 2) being willing to learn from anything, including but not limited to my child, books, and even people who drive me crazy.

good morning life!

2010-11-30T09:04:00.003-06:00

Natalie at Avignon in Photos took the 10 meter challenge from here. It looked interesting, so I thought I'd try it. I got these all with a yelling baby. I tell myself I could do better if I had time to think about it... but I don't! What good training, eh?