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)

A Hat for E

I made this hat for E over the weekend:

Now we'll get back to that oh-so-casual statement about how fast it went in a minute, but first I'll tell you why I made it.  E has been wearing this hat for the last two or three winters:

My mom made it for me (luckily I've never been a pinky-pink girl, so the boys have been able to wear several of my handknits, in shades of red, blue and yellow) when I was little.  E's head is starting to get a little big for it, so he wanted to make me a new one, the exact same as the old one.  I bought the yarn for it during my yarnathon last month.  The original is acrylic (which probably explains why it has lasted all these years without shrinking or felting or anything), but I wanted to use the same kind of wool I used for my sweater, in worsted weight (Quince & Co Lark) , because it was so soft and squishy and lovely to work with.  

I spent some time laying the design out on graph paper and translating that to a pattern and it took some brain-bending to figure out the gauge I needed to make a slightly-larger hat.  I cast on and knitted several rounds and then ripped out no fewer than three times Thursday and Friday night (probably best to not start a complicated project after 8 pm after partaking of a glass or two of wine and while chatting at knitting group!), but by the time I went to bed Friday night, I had the right number of stitches cast on the right size needles and was ready to really go Saturday morning.

E worked on his knitting while I worked on mine,

And helped me roll the yearn into balls:

I often put off projects because I'm afraid they'll be hard, or take too long.  This one was no exception.  I have only attempted knitting in pattern once before (the very second thing I ever tried knitting--a hat for C), and I had pulled the yarn too tightly behind, so that the hat had no stretch and was too tight for him.  I was worried about the same thing happening again, and I was afraid it would take me all the way until next winter to finish E's hat.  But once I plunged in, I felt exhilarated, and picked up my knitting every spare moment.

I've been reading some different books and articles about happiness, pleasure, enjoyment and "optimal experience."  I can't articulate much of what I've read, but one theme I've been able to pick up on that growth and continuous improvement are essential to true happiness and enjoyment of life.  While I've had the same boring scarf sitting in a bag for 10 years, awaiting my attention, this project, which challenged and scared me a little (but was not so difficult as to be frustrating), sent a little thrill through my chest whenever I worked on it.  I was using my brain and my hands (yea for learning Continental knitting--I held one strand of yarn in each hand!) in new ways that challenged and excited me...and seeing results as I went along!

I finished up Sunday morning, while drinking my after-breakfast pot of tea.  I was almost a little sad about being done--rather than my usual product-oriented way of being, I was enjoying the process so much, that I missed it when it was over.

The final hat is narrower, but taller than the original, but with a lot of stretch, so that it fits E well, and should continue to fit through next winter.  There are some mistakes.  Some not-quite-right tension throughout.  But I feel good and E loves it.

(Ravelry notes here)

Forward, March!

Progress

Remember those BIG things I started working on last month?  I'm actually making progress.

First--ta-da--I finished the sweater.  Yes it's very hand-knit looking and does not fit great, but it's done, which means I can knit a sweater!  In only 1.5 months even.

I'm blocking it as we speak.  Keep your fingers crossed that it doesn't shrink.

See that dangling string?  That's all the yarn that was left when I finished, which is about as close as you can come to running out of yarn without actually running out of yarn.

 I have been working doggedly at M's quilt, first cutting (and cutting) and now piecing, working one hour each weekend.  I have to say, the actual work of quilting is most tedious.  I like the planning and designing and the being done, but that middle part?  Not so much.  Am trying to be mindful and focus on The Moment as I do it, but mostly I just count down to the end of the hour.  I'm a little nervous about knocking over my pile of pieces and getting everything all mixed up and out of order.

And, finally, I'm almost done with Issue #12 of my zine.  I just need to come up with a title and a cover image and drop it at the printer.  Hopefully I'll pull that off (or out, as the case may be) in the next couple of days.  No photo, 'cause there's not much to look at but a pile of marked-up paper, but soon, very soon, I'll have more to share along those lines.

As I've mentioned before, accomplishing things is a key to my happiness (or non-depression), and a some stuff I've been reading lately about happiness confirms that people need growth for happiness.  I think these big projects (among other little ones) have greatly helped keep the February Funk away...now I just need to come up with something even bigger for the even more discouraging March Malaise.

What are you doing to survive winter?

February Notes and Miscellany

• I had to give myself a blog time-out last week in order to finish a book review that was supposed to be due "the middle of February."  After Valentine's day passed, I realized so had the middle of the month, and I hadn't gotten much done.  I was able to sneak some alone time at a cafe between work and knitting Thursday night, Saturday afternoon I sent C and the boys away for a little while, and by Sunday morning, I just gave in and worked with the chaos around me.  The process (of writing) was very much like wrestling an alligator.  I felt very blocked the whole time, but I think I finally worked it into submission.  Anyway, my editor gave me good initial feedback, so that made me feel better.  So, go ahead and ask did breaking through the blockage inspire me to sit down and write the short story that buzzes through my brain on at least a weekly basis?  No.  Still finding excuses to avoid the written word (many of which you can see below).

• This was the view from my desk Sunday:

This little guy made it hard to concentrate.

          I had to take a little break and sketch the scene:

• M has been away with relatives for a few days, which may have contributed to my ability to work Sunday morning.  Not that his demands would be as insistent as his brothers; when they were done with Lego's and ready to play Frog Juice with me, I knew there was nothing to be done but hit "send."  M on the other hand, would have just been standing reading over my shoulder, or playing his guitar in my ear.  When I called to talk to him, I could hear him playing Axel F on the piano.  I surmised, and it was confirmed, that he had already played it approximately 11,000 times the first two days of his visit (he'd also learned to play the opening bars of Let it Be).

• C gave me this necklace (from here) for Valentine's Day.  One egg for each of my nestlings.  I love it. 

•  I made this sandwich this weekend.  It's a big slab of bread from Stoneyfield Cafe with pesto, mozzarella cheese and tomato jam:

• I had to make a new clothespin bag over the weekend because this is what our old one looked like:

It's actually looked like that since November, when a mouse or something decided to eat it.  And it must not have looked exactly pristine since at least last May, because after my mom visited us, she sent me a package of new clothespins (apparently our blackened, broken ones were also not up to snuff) and some material left over from when she made a clothespin bag somewhere around 1980.

I finally got around to it this weekend because C said, "Is a clothespin bag something you can make, or should I be looking around for a new one?"  The situation was dire for C to contemplate shopping (He recently took his first trip to the grocery store in, I'm gonna say at least nine months, last week because he finally ran out of homemade maple syrup).  So I finally gave in and made it, using Mom's strawberries, lined with green gingham.  I used some wire I found lying around the basement to hold the opening open and C punched in two grommets.  The hanging wire from the old one was in perfectly good repair.  The whole process took about half an hour. Good thing I put it off so long.

• E and Z have been in a serious fantasy-play phase, where their Lego guys all have distinct personalities (Tom Lighthouse, Tom Tooey, Tee, Captain Ceratops, Captain Wilson, and King Alligator are just some of the characters I've been able to pick up on).  Then they'll move on to the dollhouse, where the dolls are moot, but all of the dogs and cats represent various pets they have known (including our own plaster cat, Snowball, and C's old dog, Cooper, who's been dead at least 12 years), and then to the plastic castle and pirate ship, incorporating a variety of wooden "Waldorfy" animals, dinosaurs and knights and cheap plastic soldiers into this whole complicated world where the above-mentioned Lego characters appear again in new guise.  I love just eavesdropping on them.

• And, despite the whole winteryness of February (yucky black snow banks, treacherous sidewalks and driveways), there have been some signs of spring hereabouts.  I heard a great horned owl hooting one morning when I was unfortunate enough to be wide away at 4 a.m.  I smelled a skunk near my office (skunks, not groundhogs should truly be the harbingers of spring).  I have no idea how it tunneled out of 3 feet of ice-hard snow.  The first day it got up above freezing, the carpenter ants appeared.  I don't know why the ladybugs that inhabit our home all winter bother me not at all, but the ants make me insane.  I did remember a large paper bag of sugar in our cabinet and sequestered it in canisters and jars before they could find it.  And, I found myself at the Patagonia outlet sale the other day and bought three sun dresses.  Would you call that Spring Fever?  Perhaps even Summer Fever?