Chipping Away

This is what the other side of my room looked like after I cleaned out the closet:

Part of my goals with this room-by-room approach is to not just tidy up, but to find a permanent fix, get things out of the way that need doing.

I tackled the mending pile over the weekend (using the same invisible patch technique I used in this typo-studded post).  Happily, the boys are perfectly content to wear patched, or even holey jeans (I found at least two more pairs in need of repair when putting away the laundry).

I finished one small, nagging project that I have been putting off for half a year.  It goes in the mail tomorrow.

And I sorted the reading materials into piles, which did nothing to diminish the fact that I'm never in my life going to have time to read it all.  I did forge through two old Sun magazines (I'm making myself read all of the Sun and Orion magazines I fell behind on--back in 2009--before I'm allowed to renew either subscription) and figured out two others that I had read at least partially.  Those all went to work with me to be handed off to a friend.   One box contains books I either read and don't remember reading, or never read.  I'm trying to find a way to make it OK to just pass them on to the library book sale, regardless.  I tend to be a book hoarder, and I just might want to read one of those particular books, someday.  But I can always get them at the library.  This is the kind of mental dilemma I need to shut down before I tackle our big bookshelves.

I also have a box of every letter and card I've ever received in my life (practically) and various other sentimental nonsense.  I'm trying to find four decent boxes, one for each of the boys and one for me, into which I can place mementos like cards and letters and their school papers and three of the four plaster-of-paris handprints M made through his preschool years, etc.  If I can get it down to one folder per year, tucked neatly in a box (out of sight/mind), I will be happy.

I keep waking up in the middle of the night, my brain turning all of this organizing over and over.  I wonder if I'm focusing on it too much in my waking life, or if bringing order to my bedroom will open the door to better, more relaxed sleep.

Also, I am not unaware that while I'm focused on clutter, half a world away people have been swept away in waves and are attempting to stave off a meltdown in one of many nuclear power plants.  It seems callous, but sometimes I think focusing on our own personal minutia is the only way to avoid crawling under the bed and weeping. 

A Spring Wreath

I haven't gotten out the spring decorations or the spring books--it's just still very much winter, and focusing on bunnies and birds would either be disorienting or depressing (though I have heard the chickadees singing their "fee-bee" song the last few mornings for the first time, so maybe there's hope).

I did create and hang up a new spring wreath on our front door, though.  I loved the fabric wreath I made for Christmas so much I left it up all winter, and wanted to make another for spring.  I was stressing out about what to use for a wreath form, though.  I refuse to buy a styrofoam one, or one of those green ones (which have Prop 65 labeling, meaning they are made with something carcinogenic or toxic to reproduction...I don't want a wreath that bad).  I made the Christmas one with a straw wreath form, but even that was wrapped in plastic wrap, and it was kind of heavy, so it clunked every time the door opened and closed.

Then I saw Heather's great yo-yo Valentine's wreath and was inspired.  I've always loved old yo-yo quilts, but they seem like way too much work.  But a yo-yo wreath, I could handle that.  I started it back in January, and worked on it a little at a time.  

Yo-yos are very easy to make.  First, you draw a circle about double the diameter of your desired finished yo-yo:

A yogurt tub works great for this.

Then, fold under the edge about 1/4 inch and hand-sew a running stitch all the way around.

Pull the thread tight to gather.

And poof, you have a yo-yo.  Once you get started, you might find them addicting. 

 Instead of a cardboard form, like Heather used, I wanted something that would look good from the back too (since I would be hanging it in front of a window) and that would be durable over the years, so I stitched a little fabric sleeve around a wire wreath form, scavenged from a Christmas wreath from years' past.  I sewed a button in the center of each yo-yo and stitched them to the wreath form.

The bird I had made a couple of Easters ago, from the same fabric--my very favorite ever Kaffe Fasset print (sadly discontinued) that includes all of my favorite colors.  The wreath has been a bright, cheerful, quiet addition to our front door.  It gives me hope that maybe, just maybe, Spring is not a mythical land, but a real place we might get to visit some day.

Madness

I have been obsessed with organizing for at least the last two-and-a-half years (my first blog post on the topic is here).  I have had been driven by the irrational belief that if I can just get the house clean enough, it will stay that way.  I am starting to realize that decluttering and organization are a practice, like meditation or yoga.  They require mindfulness and daily attention, and if practiced faithfully, will lead to continuous improvement and, eventually, enlightenment.

Well, maybe not enlightenment, but I do feel weighed down by all the stuffness of my life, and I do feel lighter when I am able to lift a bit of the load.  (Not that I want to turn into my Grandmother, who has spent her whole life cleaning and recleaning her spotless house...).  I've decided to focus on one room each month this year and not only clean, declutter and organize, but also add to those rooms in a way that makes them feel more finished.  This month, I am taking on my bedroom, which is also my sewing room and office (maybe I should start calling it my "studio," my Sewing, Writing and Sleeping studio.  Maybe a new name would facilitate more sewing, writing and sleeping.)

I did a major overhaul in this room two years ago and again last year.   Neither stuck.  Last week I could barely get into my closet, and the ironing board attacked me anytime I tried.  Though, while going through my closet and drawers took two whole days last year, it only took me an afternoon this past weekend, including the previously-ignored top drawer of jewelry and random trinkets, which I took downstairs and said to the boys "who wants to look at some treasure?"  Those boys like bling.  M has been begging to look in that drawer for months.

I ended up with one big bag of get-rid-ofs.  I also folded all my clean clothes that had been heaped on the dresser and they (mostly) fit in my newly sorted drawers.  I still need to sort through four bins of bed linens that line the back of the closet, and I found two boxes of books therein (part of the reason I couldn't get in there)--one of books that I'd sorted out of our bookshelves two years ago and planned to read and then get rid of and the other one full of literary journals I picked up at AWP last year and some other books people have given or lent to me.  I am going to make a concerted effort to just read through them.  I need a two hour train commute, or a long bout of the flu or something.  I will definitely need to take a break from library books for a while.

I have a pile of pants that need mending and several WIPs that I am going to force myself to deal with, as well, including making curtains for this very room, a project which has been in the queue for a long time.  I also want to come up with something to do with the big blank wall over my sewing table, and I really need to clean out my writing desk so I can actually write there (though C partially moved out of our living room and to a real office, so now I'm able to set up my laptop in the living room).

March is also shaping up to be a busy month, socially (everyone must have cabin fever)--including the clothing swap, where I'll actually get rid of all the clothes I sorted out.  Hopefully I can squeeze it all in this month.  I'm holding out on "after" pictures (though my side of the closet looks very nice--C's side is a whole 'nother story) until the end of the month, to encourage myself to keep it clean.  Next I want to take on the upstairs bathroom and the boys' room, then maybe take the summer off before attacking the downstairs.

Has the spring cleaning bug bitten you?

March Green

By March, my eyes and my heart hunger for just a bit of green to feast upon.

Outside, the white and blue of midwinter have faded to grey and brown--leaden skies heavy with freezing rain, filthy snowbanks along the roadsides, driveways of frozen mud ruts.  Even the so-called evergreen trees--pine, hemlock, cedar, fir--appear no longer green, but dark and rusty, no longer full of the promise of life that they were when they decked the halls at solstice.

To find hues of that life-giving color, I turn inward.  The sunroom, cold and neglected through January and February now fairly glows with new growth.

New leaves for the rubber tree.

Fresh cilantro,

parsley, mint, sage and chives.

This mystery succulent that sprang from nowhere in the soil of our (now-dead) ficus has chosen now to put forth pink blooms.

Our shamrock, Lucky, whom we bought many long years ago in a tiny, mossy greenhouse in Denver, and who has traveled across the country with us twice, is blooming just in time for St. Patrick's Day.

St. Patrick's Day I look on as another celebration of the coming spring (for by next week it will be spring on neither the calendar nor in the weather) and an opportunity to learn a little about another culture, rather than a celebration of the Saint who, legend has it, drove the "snakes" (druids) from Ireland.

The nature windowsill, we redecorated with rainbows and various gnomes, dwarves and Santa's standing in for Leprechauns, and M's Leprechaun shoe.

The two green mushrooms I made for St. Patrick's Day a couple of years ago, though there is nothing remotely mushroomy about March.

I went to an antique store with a vision of a row of green vases along the "mantle."  Instead I found this fabulous green Akro Agate tea set.  It's missing the creamer and the lid to the teapot.  Perhaps I'll make it my mission to find replacements (at first I felt a little embarrassed to be a grown woman going gaga over a toy tea set, but then I googled it, and see that there are zillions of collector sites out there).

Finally, we planted a bit of hope, in the form of a few scatterings of hard red spring wheat berries in a tiny pot.  That way we'll be sure of at least a little green by the time spring is actually here.

Our Wilderness

Sunday afternoon we bundle up and head out for a family explore in the woods.  The kids are opposed to any form of walking or hiking, even when we call it a "stomp."  C suggests we just let them play in the snowbanks around the house, but I wrangle them into their snowshoes.

Last weekend we snowshoed over the river to C's dad's house.  E wanted to go by car and whined and complained a great deal.  But once we reached Grampy's field, it was like he had won the Super Giant Slalom in the Olympics.  He threw his arms out into the victory Y and cheered "woo-woo!"  all the way up to the house (Of course, coming home in the dark, at bedtime, with cold wet feet was another story).  

They can do this easy hike around our trail, and I want them to get some fresh air and exercise after a Saturday spent indoors playing Uno.

I click into my cross-country skis.  It is nearly March and I have only skied once so far this winter.  I prefer to snowshoe, but I know regret my non-skiing if I don't go at least one more time, with fresh soft snow on the ground covering up the ice.

As usual, I bring up the rear, and E falls ever few steps, on purpose some of the time, and sometimes because he doesn't watch where he's going or he doesn't lift his feet up high enough (this new snow is wet and heavier than previous snows).  Every time he falls, he pauses to eat several mouthfuls of snow.

We reach Owl Tree and a fine, light snow begins to fall from the nearly cloudless, sunny sky.

At first I think it's just blowing off the trees, but the flakes continue to sift down out on the open river.

We reach the first of possible turn-offs, and M takes charge, leading his brothers the short distance home up the hill and across the field.  C and I continue down river.  This is the area I think of as the Wilderness, a big meander, dotted with huge, snaggy old willows and balsam firs so perfectly conical, they trick you into thinking they're blue spruces.  In summer it's thick with hummocks of neck high grasses, braided with channels of slow-moving water.  It's a good place to find caddisfly larva and surprise wood ducks and pick up deer ticks.

I imagine it's what Alaska looks like, and I imagine we're a Wilderness Family of sorts, sequestered far from civilization and all its trappings, spending our days snowshoeing and skiing, and our evenings reading and knitting by the fire.  It sounds much more inviting than scraping windshields and unsticking spinning tires and plowing snow, much more appealing than computers and cell phones and cubicles.  Just the five of us, lots of good books and warm wool, a pot of beans simmering on the stove, and, perhaps, a deck of Uno.

Paper Dolls

I got out these Curious George paper dolls to play with E and Z this weekend.

I had bought them last winter, after my sister sent me this paper doll, because it reminded her of the paper dolls we used to play when we were little.

Of course she was referring to The Ginghams.  We used to get these (and other) paper dolls at the drug store (Skaggs, I think it was called, of all things).  I had willed all my paper dolls to my youngest sister when I moved away from home, but I demanded their return and she sent them back to me.

Quite a few of The Ginghams have survived the years (though Grandma is missing her head).

And they still have quite a substantial wardrobe.  I wasted quite a bit of time noodling around on the internet, looking to see if you can still get these nowadays.  There are a few available on Etsy and Ebay (at hefty prices, some) and some websites where you can download some of the sets and print them out yourself (our printer is not very good and I'd be a little embarrassed to take them to the print shop!)

I wish Golden Books would reissue them, but like other revivals (e.g. Strawberry Shortcake), they would probably get tarted up, and we'd have Becky's Boudoir and Sarah's Saloon.  Probably better to leave well enough alone.

In the stash were also these Dolly Dingle Around the World paper dolls.  I both love the costumes and am a little appalled by the cultural stereotypes.  Some of the friends and dolls and pets have pretty offensive names.  I'm kind of glad I don't have to worry about whether I'd let my kids play with these due to gender stereotypes--the boys showed little interest in Dolly Dingle.

Even through Dolly looks EXACTLY like Z (other than the ringlets and the silly hat):  the brown eyes, round rosy cheeks and mischievous grin, exactly like his, though he's beginning to outgrow this look a bit.

There were also these:  Fanny May and Betsy Rose (in an envelope marked "Scary Dolls" in my sister's handwriting).  I got them at a store called The Rambling Rose in the Cinder Alley section of Cinderella City (the local mall in Englewood).  I loved that store.  It was full of girly goodness.  The only part I remember really clearly was a jeweler's case with revolving shelves completely full of dollhouse furniture.  The rest is just a dim, flowery, cozy memory (except these paper dolls, of course).  I thought there was a baby too, but it did not make it back to me with the other two.


And then there were the catalog paper dolls.  My grandma always had past-season pattern catalogs for some reason, and when we were at her house, my sister and my two youngest aunts and I would cut out paper dolls from their pages.  E and Z are lucky they're not girls, or I'd get busy making them some of these rockin' retro short-short dresses.

There were even paperdolls cut out from wrapping paper.

And a whole bunch of miscellaneous pieces and parts form Barbie, Malibu Skipper, Jean Jeans, Strawberry Sue, The Sunshine Family, Best Friends, Colonial Paper Dolls and two others I didn't even recognize or remember who also have international costumes.  I can't bring myself to recycle the stray pieces.

After reliving my paper doll history, I had to get some for my boys.  I found Curious George and some knights (which I haven't presented to them yet) from Dover, one of the few places that paper dolls can even be found these days (and they have some cool ones--but they all require cutting; no pop-out ones).  When I first introduced George to the boys last year they were a little young for them--they wanted to cut them out themselves but did not have the dexterity.  I've been waiting for a snow day to bring them out again, but they're usually so busy playing Lego's when it's not nice out, and when it is nice, I like to throw them outside.  I finally gave up on the perfect conditions and just sat down and started cutting.  They joined right in.  This time, they did not insist on cutting the dolls, but just cut around them to make it easier for me to cut the details.  Then they dressed up George (luckily, the set came with two dolls).  

That's about as far as they got.  They lost interest after a while, but I plan on bringing them out more often than once a year, and will eventually bring out the knights too.  It's not quite the same as The Ginghams, but sitting and cutting paper and dressing up dolls is still a lot of fun.

Hot Off the Presses

Ooof.  Finally, I have finished Issue #12 of my zine, GEMINI.  The gestation of this baby puts me squarely in the pachyderm family, with Issue #11 having come out way back in December 2009.  For awhile I worried that maybe it just wouldn't ever happen.  But 11 is an odd number to end on, and my collection of quotes from the muses was growing, and I was starting to get gentle reminders--most often from my subscribers' husbands, "Hey, do you still write your little newsletter thingy?"

I wrote my first issue of GEMINI five years ago, when E and Z were about nine months old.  I had only recently discovered motherhood literature (aka mommy-lit) in the form of Brain, Child magazine and the inimitable Hausfrau Mutha-zine.  I began to search for more mamazines and web sites and books on motherhood (don't ask me how I'd completely missed out on this phenomenon for the first four years of motherhood).  These writers became my lifeline as I felt myself sinking under the weight of these two needy (and increasingly mobile) babies and their big brother.  But not just the reading.  I found myself increasingly compelled to write my own stories and thus was born GEMINI (the title being a reference to twins).

Most days I'm not quite so desperate for a lifeline any more, and I have other outlets, which serve that function and steal my time and creative energy (ahem, this blog being the main one).  But I enjoyed putting this issue together, and I especially reveled in the rhythm and routine of it--laying out the pages, proofreading, taking it to our local print shop--and I plan to keep going with more issues in the future (though perhaps not on my previous every-four-months schedule).

I'll be getting issues for subscribers and trades into the mail by the end of the week, so keep your eyes peeled!

If you're not already a subscriber, you can buy this issue in one of two ways.  You can either send me $3 concealed cash or check to Andrea Lani (email me at andreaelani at yahoo dot com to trade mailing addresses) or you can use the PayPal button on the right side of the screen to order an issue for $3.50 (the 50 cents to cover PayPal's cut--which pretty much balances out your check, envelope and stamp!  Thanks to Jennifer from Syrendell for nudging me into the 21st century).

Oh, and I almost forgot, in this issue:

Raising Private Milo (reprint of Brain, Child essay)
Dragonfly Pond
The Boy in the Band
Poetry
Crude Cartoons (that is, crudely drawn, not crude rude)
And more!

For more about past issues of GEMINI see here (#11), here (#10), here (#7), (not sure where 8 and 9 went)