Little House

C and I went on an actual date--an overnight date at that--this weekend.  First we went out to an OK dinner in Portland (the restaurant I wanted to go to had too long a wait) and then we saw 2 Pianos 4 Hands at Portland Stage, which was fabulous...very funny and amazing piano playing.  You should really try to go see it if you are local (or find out when it's coming to a theatre near you).  We stayed in Portland over night and went to breakfast at Silly's, which involved more fried pickles, of course.

The rest of the weekend was completely and entirely devoted to helping M build the Little House on the Prairie.

This was the culminating project for a months-long unit on the book.  Usually I have stepped back and largely encouraged/let M do his projects on his own.  Gentle nudges and suggestions are almost always met with tears.  But this time he selected a project that would have been too much for a 4th-grader to complete by himself, and part of the grad was "parental involvement."  And, we managed to get through the whole thing without any crying, until right at the very end when he was trying to make Pa's fiddle (at Z's insistence) and it wasn't coming out the way he wanted.  I consider that a triumph.

We pruned branches off various species of trees around our house (note:  fresh alder wood smells terrible and is best avoided for this type of project!), cut them to size and stuck them together with powdered papier mache that (I believe it's dust collected from paper mills that would otherwise need to be discarded, but is instead sold as a craft material).

It was very goopy and messy to work with (M wouldn't touch the stuff--he set the logs in place while I smeared slime on them) and as the walls got taller, it got kind of shaky.  It would have been ideal to build a few rows and let it dry for a few days and then add a few more.  But as it was, with our schedules and the timing, we only got the first two or three rows done early last week, and then build the rest on Sunday.  We had to employ all manner of bracing materials to hold it together.

I was, by turns, really annoyed with the whole thing and really excited to make all the teeny tiny things that go inside the house.  I helped him probably more than I should have, but I couldn't help myself.  M sewed the mattress, and I made the quilt and pillow (we stuffed them with fir needles, since all our hay is under a few feet of snow) and I made the doll Charlotte and a teeny tiny ball of yarn and knitting needles.  And the china shepherdess (beeswax) and the iron spider (toilet paper roll, paper, glue and sticks, painted black).  M split tiny logs and made the fire from orange wool.

He made the plates with metal washers and little circles of foil tape, the table and door from popsicle sticks, with felt hinges and latch string on the door, and he made a broom with some broom straw, a stick and string, and a twig rifle over the door.  The butter churn is a spool and a piece of skewer.

We roofed it with canvas (just like Pa did at first) that can be pulled back to reveal the cozy inside.

It made it all the way to the school without collapsing, despite the pointy parts of the wall being still wet and unstable.  At least three other kids had built house models too.  Z can't wait for it to come home so he can play with it.  Neither can I!

Storytime

Just One More Day

We're in the midst of a deep freeze here in Maine, where the temperature ranges from +10 to -10, punctuated every few days by The Storm of the Century.  It's the kind of weather where cars (even Swedish ones) don't like to start in the morning, where you have to scrape ice off the inside of your windshield, where nosing into traffic is an act of faith because the snow banks are taller than a Volvo, where you realize that there is still a whole lotta winter left before it is done.

I think I'd be OK with winter if I didn't have to drive anywhere, if I could just sit at home by the fire, knitting, reading a good book, eating chocolate and bruschetta.  You could join me if you like.  We could make a pot of tea (or, better yet, open a bottle of wine).

I went into this past weekend with the same panicked feeling I feel every Friday--the sense that I have too much to do and not enough time in which to do it.  I started first thing Saturday morning with the most dreaded, but necessary task.  E and Z share a dresser, into which far too many clothes (hand-me-downs from M and a couple of his friends) are stuffed.  I usually go through the drawers every spring and fall, removing too-small items and replacing them with new seasonally-appropriate garments from the hand-me down bins.  But the drawers were overfilled with things that fit neither boy's (incomprehensible) sense of style, so I went through every item, saying, "do you like this?  this?" and filled a laundry basket to beyond overflowing with unacceptable and too-small items.  Now their drawers close (that is, until I get around to folding and putting away the mountain of clean laundry).  I'm sorry to say that's the only thing approaching housework that I got done, other than a couple of loads of laundry (which stayed out sublimating on the line until C brought them in Monday); I didn't even get my house bewitching done...

Because, the rest of Saturday I spent on the Super Duper Deluxe Southern Maine Yarn Shopping Spree with my knitting buddies (I had been calling it a Yarn-A-Thon, but that gave someone the sense that we were doing it for charity, which we quite definitely were not, unless you count one of my buying knitting needles for a friend of hers who was laid up with a sprained ankle.

As all Super Duper Deluxe Yarn Shopping Sprees should, this one involved drinking wine and eating fried pickles,

As well as purchasing some yard (of course) from two out of the three shops we visited and a little bit of fabric, as well as some other odds and ends, not to mention browsing for a new sofa.

I did also make some progress on my sweater, which it turns out does fit, albeit snugly (I made need to invest in a bust minimizer bra and spanx).  I just hope I don't look too much like the Great Pumpkin in it.

And I got started on something very tiny with some of that new yarn.  It took over an hour to wind that tiny skein (all 400 yards of it) into a ball.  I used to think one day I'd want to make one of those patterned Swedish style sweaters with the sport weight yarn and size 2 needles.  Ha!  Knitting something so tiny makes my fingers feel like bratwurst.  

And, I started working on a spring project (inspired by Heather).  Yes, I am that person who was embracing winter last week.  Part of embracing winter is anticipating spring, don't you know?  As part of the process, I ran across a whole bunch of buttons I bought a couple of years ago when a local purse and women's clothing manufacturer went out of business.  When I added them to my existing button stash, the whole collection exceeded its former home of an old giant Altoids tin and I had to graduate it all to a jar, which is a look I've been envying on others' blogs for a while (now I just need to replace some of those ugly tan and gray shirt buttons with something more fun and colorful!)

While rearranging things for this photo shoot, I ran across this package of bobbins I bought right before Christmas, which do not fit my machine, but which I opened without checking the size in may manual first.  These are class 15 and there are 10 in the package.  I'd love to pass them on to someone who could use them, so if you're interested leave a comment with your email address and they're yours!

I know it sounds like I ignored my kids all weekend, but they had a great day ice fishing with their dad on Saturday, and E and Z are way into a heavy Lego building phase, and don't really care for adult interference (I'm pretty sure they would second my preference for a go-nowhere winter), and I did spend some time helping M with the planning stages of his school project, which I'm confident will contribute greatly into any not-enough-hours-in-the-weekend panic that arises this coming weekend.

I went into Monday morning wishing for Just One More Day--mostly to tackle the housework that I neglected all weekend, but also for some of that knitting and reading by the fire action.  Instead it will just translate into a new round of panic this Friday.

BIG Things

I had a four-day weekend this past weekend (actually, it turned into five days, with kids' doctor and dentist appointments added to a big snowstorm today, but the fifth day cancels itself out, being more stressful than fun), and was not only able to get done most of what needed to get done, but was able to do some things I wanted to do, including working on three big projects.

Number 1:  I started M's quilt.  I bought the fabric for it something like two years ago, but have never had the time/motivation to get started...I keep thinking I'll get it done for the next birthday/Christmas, but then other projects always take over.  Finally, now, here is all the fabric washed, ironed and ready for cutting.  I figure if I work on it a little each weekend--one step a week--I may be able to finish it in time for his birthday in May.  Fingers crossed.

Number 2:  I finally got started on Issue #12 of my (print) zine GEMINI.  It's been over a year since the last issue came out and I miss it!  I'm afraid blogging has drained away much of the inspiration and energy that once went into my zine, but I couldn't leave it stranded there on Issue #11 (such an odd number!) and lots of my zine readers are not blog readers, so I really want to produce at least one more issue.  I'm embarrassed to admit this (but I'm going to go ahead and admit it anyway), but I spent a significant chunk of Friday--which I had at home alone as the kids were in school--rereading all the back issues in search of inspiration for this issue.  I actually enjoyed myself (I laughed, I cried), and found a few things I might dust off and polish up for submission somewhere.  My goal is to finish this issue by the end of January. I may need to force myself to take a little vacation from ye olde blogge in order to get the next issue written!  I'll keep you posted.

Number 3:  A sweater!  Yes, this winter marks 15th year since I began knitting and I'm only just now getting around to trying a sweater.  I was always too intimidated before--sweaters seemed so hard, and like they would take so long.  But, oh my gosh, this has been so easy and quick (knock on wood)!  I did have a slight issue of using the wrong-sized needles and having to un-knit a fairly significant chunk, and I'm terrified that it will be way too small (I noticed, after it was too late, that the sweater is designed to be more than two inches smaller than the chest measurement, which can only possibly make sense to someone waif-thin, which I am not).  But, if it is too small, some skinny person in my life will get a lovely hand-knit sweater for her next birthday and I'll just start another one, and then I'll have two sweaters to my credit.  Because, you know what?  Knitting a sweater is exhilarating.  Really, it is.  You can follow along with all the thrills and chills on my Ravelry page.  My goal is to finish one skein per week, which is totally do-able (I just finished skein #2 tonight and have a much more sweaterish-looking object now than what is in this picture).

I kind of miss the pre-holiday crafting whirlwind--having a deadline makes me so darn productive (my old boss used to say that the resume-building phrase "works well under pressure" really means "requires pressure to work"...yeah that's me), but rushing around like that makes me kind of sloppy too.  So, my last goal for these projects is to not only make time for them each week, but to also work on them mindfully, with an attention to detail (if only I'd thought of that before I started the sweater so I might have read the part about it being too small on purpose!)

January Blue

January is a blue month. The woolen skies of November and December lift to reveal a high, ice-blue dome.  Our shadows--elongated giants with enormous hands and pin heads--stretch blue across the snow in the low afternoon sun. The blue jays visit the feeder, their usual raucous cries subdued by the cold.

This weekend I finally cleared away the dregs of red-and-green, filed away the Christmas cards, swept up the last of the fir needles to make way for January.  In the kitchen I lined up blue glass on the window sill,

spread a blue cloth and made a snowflake bowl (copied from Shivaya Naturals). The silver snowflake candlesticks came from Goodwill (on sale before Christmas).

More blue and white in livingroom, and a new book of fairy tales from the cold north.

(The snowflake bowls drive M crazy, because what do you do with them?)

In the window I hung more snow flakes (how-to at linaloo),

And on the so-called mantle I placed my favorite Frank Lloyd Wright-style candleholders, which have a snowflakey design, and I cut some red dogwood branches to put in the big, scary rock vase (I have to keep it there, out of reach, for fear that it will fall on someone and brain them).

January is for sledding and snow ice cream.  For skating (after tomorrow's sleet) and snow plowing.  It is a month for popcorn and cocoa and hot melted cheese.  It is for walking on the ice along the river, avoiding the spots where the water defies the thermometer and runs black and frigid.  January is long underwear and wool sweaters, down coats and knit hats, warm socks and mittens.  January says, "Go outside and play; it's a beautiful day," when the sun streams down through the single-digit atmosphere. And January says, "Sit by the fire.  Knit.  Read a book. Watch a movie in the afternoon when you've had your fill of cold and ice.

January is a month to embrace winter.

Winner

Rachel, from 6512 and Growing won my Cars from a Marriage giveaway.  Yea Rachel!

I'll be hosting another book giveaway soon so stick around!

Walking in the Woods on a Snowy Evening*

I wake from a dream in which I’m in the house of two old ladies and the phone is ringing but I can’t find it when the answering machine kicks in and a mechanical voice announces that schools is cancelled.  I look out at dark trees silhouetted against the blue-black sky.  It hasn’t started snowing yet.  I doze until my alarm goes off at six.  I decide I can afford another half-hour of sleep and still make my 7:30 dentist appointment--no school means no lunches to make and I can pick up both breakfast and lunch for myself after my appointment.

Two hours later, out the window of the dentist office, I can see the white wall of the storm move down Western Avenue.  By the time I leave, already three or four inches have fallen.  I stop at the bagel shop, despite half my face being numb and the admonition to not eat bagels with a temporary crown.  I hope the parking lot at work will be empty, but of course it is not.  We finally get the word that we can leave at 3:00, because the governor is concerned for our safety.  I can imagine him rubbing his fat, greedy hands at the cost savings from our deaths.  At least a foot has fallen and the plow has made no heroic efforts on my road.  It takes three goes to get up the hill.

Our driveway is unplowed and the mailbox has been knocked off its post.  I ram the car as far off the road as I can and the kids and I pile out and walk.  At least I’m not pulling a toddler in a sled or pregnant with twins and dragging a three-year-old or carrying two babies and coaxing a four-year-old.  Now they troop along quite happily except E, who gets upset that Papa, who is finally coming out to plow, won’t let him come along.

Inside dishes are piled on the counter and in the sink.  I eat ice cream and read my friend’s zine that came in the mail.  She’s much more tolerant than me.  She would never fume about unplowed snow and dirty dishes.  She believes in magic.

I put on my boots and go out into the snow.  I follow our trail, taking pictures of the wintery trees until my finger goes numb.  I traipse along, cataloging my grievances--the governor, the driveway, the dishes, an irritating blog post--over and over.   The snow is up to my knees, but light.  I lick a clump off a tree branch.  It tastes like nothing.

This is the part where I’m supposed to feel the magic of the world, let go of my crankiness, but I just walk home, make potato soup and popovers, make snow ice cream, play Rat-a-Tat-Cat, read an Easter book that E had checked out, refuse to read a fairy tail, because of the late hour, and write this post.

*With apologies to Robert Frost.