HOW I AVOIDED THINKING ABOUT THE BASEMENT

The basement saga continues, and I am still reluctant to talk about the latest snag...unrelated to all prior snags. Luckily I have been able to fully channel my creative energy into the making of Christmas gifts!! ...and bypass the ever so frequent depressing thought about this basement project. Thank goodness for grandchildren.

Initially I started out just making pajamas for Iris...she wanted pink ones. I selected the material and proceeded to make hers, and a pair of matching bottoms for her doll, Nollie, whom, by the way, Elsa loved as well. So it was decided that Elsa should receive a 'Nollie' doll for Christmas, at which point I offered to make a baby doll. Well, Elsa did get her own 'Nollie' doll, I think named 'Emma', but Jonel thought it would be great for me to make a baby doll for her anyway.

Searching the internet for a Waldorf pattern for a baby doll, I came up with what looked like something I could do. As in fact it was, but to my surprise, the pattern turned out to be a life sized baby doll. Now Elsa is on the petite side and fearing the doll would be nearly as big as her and thinking both girls might want it, we decided it would be for both. I thought making it a baby boy would be good, as well. (Being that the doll was now a gift for both girls, I thought I should make Elsa PJ's as well, and made them to match Iris'.)

After the second pair of PJ's I proceeded on to the doll...

the pattern and equipment

...traced on cloth

...cut out and begun...
A minor portion of this project was done on the sewing machine, most of it accomplished by hand.

It was kind of eery the way this 'baby' kept looking real to me.

...especially the feet and the hands. Here the doll's head is under construction, the final 'skin' needs to be applied.

The skin has been applied and embroidered and the head attached to the wool stuffed body.

Wanting to make it a boy presented a little hair challenge, but finding some kinky yarn and dyeing it with tea gave me close to what I was looking for.

Hair being sewed in place.

...and the complete doll, complete in a set of pajamas. These were made from some old flannel PJ's of mine.

It so happens that Iris also very much wanted a doll house for Christmas. She was being read a lovely book about a girl with a doll house that had a kind of mischievous, perhaps annoying Fairy that lived in it. It was a darn cute fairy, and I wanted to make it for her new doll house. It presented more of a challenge then did the baby doll, as working on such a small scale is not something I love. She was to be only 4-5" tall.

I searched the internet for a fairy pattern and came up with one which was less then ideal, but gave me enough ideas to make a pattern and proceed.

Here she is before assembly.

Here she is assemble, though naked still, along side of a picture of Thistle, the mischievous fairy of the book.

and here she is complete. Making the clothing, which I sewed directly onto the body, was perhaps the trickiest. I used old silk tie pieces to adorn her, unplyed some brown wool yarn in order to get here kinky hair, and took the wire from twisties to form the wings.

All in all, two FUN projects.

Gifts delivered on Christmas Day...


which Freddie and I began with our traditional breakfast of tea ring, fresh fruit and juice.

Hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas, too!

A Holiday Sunday

Yesterday was certainly a pre-Christmas holiday for Freddie and me. It began with a trip to Tomah to watch our two grandkids in their Church Christmas program, in what has become a yearly tradition for us. This year, Morgan, the elder had a speaking part, and I must say, she was really good at it, and could be heard as well.

Macy, the younger, the lovely angel on the right, is simply fun to watch as she sings between resting her head on her hands and waiting for her turn.

Then we rushed home to take a friend, who is heading back home to Tennessee after 10 months of midwifery internship, this coming Wednesday. Susan had never skied before.

Susan arrives at the Reserve parking lot. A bit apprehensive as to whether she could do this.

Perhaps Freddie should have been a bit apprehensive???? To his credit I must say the dip represents a swath of ice.

Susan said that skiing in the tracks was a bit of a relief, as she was experiencing some difficulty in keeping the skis straight.

Susan and I...posing.

This field of (unidentified) grass was truly a golden beauty...the color was brilliant and about as golden as the straw that Rapunzel wove into gold.

We did follow the ski trail for a while, but Freddie and I truly love to 'bushwhack' and as Susan brought up the rear and could continue in our tracks, we went off trail to explore along the river. Although Freddie was breaking trail it was pretty easy going, some of the best snow we've ever skied on.

Susan bushwhacks.

Here Susan and I are headed out on the frozen marsh.

It was a glorious day for skiing. Abundance of sun, aerobic exercise aplenty, and terrific company. As it turns out, Susan is an excellent skier, no surprise to me as she is so graceful and very athletic.

We all headed home to Jug Creek, Susan a bit achy having used muscles she'd never used before, to good wine and fresh-off-the-500-degree adobe tile, pepperoni pizza.
A GREAT DAY!

HOLIDAY FAIRE AT PLEASANT RIDGE SCHOOL

I spent seven years as the Preschool/Kindergarten teacher at Pleasant Ridge Waldorf School...perhaps the best educational system around. Despite that, I have never had a 'booth' at their annual Holiday Faire, though I have attended most years. This year, I had a 'booth'.

Despite terrible weekend weather on Friday night there was a small crowd and by Saturday afternoon, a pretty good crowd. It was a fun show even though many of the people I thought I might see there weren't or at least did not make it to my booth.

I must say that those who did come by seemed to appreciate my work, and my Grandmother's series of braided woven rag rugs were a hit.

A show I look forward to doing again next year. Made some new 'textile' friends whose work was inspiring, and that is always a bonus!

APRIL IN DECEMBER

How pathetic ...this gloom...this heavy repressive weather! Yesterday was completely without sun, a dense grayness laid over the land, and I felt it internally each time I looked out the window. I sympathized with all of those people that suffer from SAD, Seasonal Affective Disorder, and wondered if I have become one myself. I was downright close to depression by the time the end of the day came (thank goodness for Zumba, which never fails to make me feel vital and human.)

Today seems like a repeat, only worse. There is so much mud surrounding my workshop, it is nearly impossible to get to, and virtually impossible to move anything in to the almost complete basement. (How long can this drag on???)

Normally it is a simple straight shot to walk to the workshop, but these days I must walk up the left side of this slight hill, mash my way through the weeds, in order to approach the cabin with as little mud as possible.

Here I tried to approach in the 'normal' way. I am truly disheartened!

It is even worse then it looks, believe me.

This is a photo of the pine needles lying beneath our pines, and on any sunny day they are breathtaking in their golden beauty. How sad that on a day like today, these are the most beautiful things I see. Still, I am supremely grateful for their beauty.

BOUNTY

Over the past several days I have been giving active thought to that for which I am thankful. It is bountiful, so bountiful a tiny sense of shame has accompanied my gratefulness. Searching that 'shame' out, I realized that were I to reduce my bounty by ninety percent I'd still have more to be thankful for then millions around the world. I set out to write a poem about this as I sat drinking chamomile tea at 1:30 in the dark of last night. My struggle was still ongoing when finally I went back to bed, poem still unborn.

As often happens the morning after some inner struggle, a solution came to me and a different poem was born.


This is one of my favorite pictures of my parents, especially of my father holding a kettle as though it were an extension of his arm.

ON MY FATHER'S BIRTHDAY


Were my father still alive
he would be eighty-nine today.
I wonder what
in the long thirty-one years
since he passed,
would have been...
for him...
for us.

I know he'd still be the
Kitchen God of my youth
who could coax exquisite
tastes-smells,
and sheer amount
from the merest ingredients.

White chef's apron tied high
on his portly frame,
his huge brown eyes missing
not a thing
as he surveyed his Kingdom.

A tall, tall man of short stature
who loved long, sleek Lincolns
though once he brought home
a lowly Nash.

A self-trained musician
bending his alto sax
to high jazz
as we kids eagerly sat
on the scratchy, green parlor sofa...
a rapt audience,
sure he was a star...

and he could belt out a song
in his huge baritone
rich with chestnut notes
that at other times
might send us scurrying.

He was a suitcase kind of Dad-
an on-the-road salesman
hawking kettles--
not just any kettles, either
but STAINLESS STEEL
none of that aluminum for food
he'd eat or serve!

He'd be off for a week at a time
sometimes two
demonstrating his wares
in other people's kitchens...
roast beef, braised with very little water
(that was an important component)
to tender perfection in his largest kettle,

in the smallest one, ruby red beets
that he would later demonstrate
left no stain...
potatoes steamed on low heat
little water
certainly not boiled to death.

Sometimes, to my delight,
we might accompany him,
the clean-up-crew of kids.
He had a tiny office front
in Rochester, NY
where we might stay over night
if the 'dinner party' went late-
and in the morning he'd fix us
salami sandwiches,
not just any salami, mind you,
but hard salami sliced so thin
you could see right through it,
on Italian hard rolls
so crusty that flakes broke off
with every bite.
I loved this breakfast
in that tiny space,
relishing the almost naughtiness of it.

Sometimes
cooking in my kitchen,
Iris, earnest and supremely focused,
stirring by my side,
I know he has come through
(he may never have held her nor
felt the aching sweetness of her arms
around his neck)
but he is there in her,
as he has been in me...
cooking on.

AM I BLUE...

To say I am blue is to put it very, very lightly (and literally). Perhaps depressed might more closely describe how I am feeling! This workshop basement project just does not seem to go 'right' at any juncture. First of all, this project began around the first of April...mmmm is that an omen? There have been problems all along the way, this very long way, is it now eight months??? going on nine??? I am really weary of this project, and were I able to backtrack you better believe it would not get done.

I had initially thought I might paint the floor, but after going to Home Depot and consulting with their expert who said: I'd need to scrub it with a $20 gallon of special scrub; etch it with a $20 gallon of etcher; prime it with a $30 gallon of primer; paint it with a $30 gallon of paint; and repaint it with yet another $30 of that paint. This was looking rather ridiculous and expensive in money and time, so I decided not to paint.

When the floor was first laid, I thought it quite nice, close to lovely even. But as time has passed and I have worked more closely to it, I have come to see cracks, discolored places, and uneven rough spots. This in itself has been downright depressing.


However, the latest folly is my doing. When I painted the rafters, I did so on a step ladder which stood upon a very large piece of heavy duty plastic. I was either very, very sloppy, or the plastic did not do its job, because there are paint spots all over the cement floor.

Just a closer look at the colors, the 'cracks' and the paint spots.

I went to Nuzum's seeking help in removing these spots. It was suggested that I try stripper. Oh, I thought, what a great idea. I even had earth friendly stripper at home. I applied a thin coating on several spots in one corner, just to get an idea if it would work. What did it do, it smeared the paint and absorbed the stripper into yet another stain upon the floor. I'm sinking deeper now.

Here is a smeared, absorbed stain that, I think, looks worse then the 'simple' paint stain did.

So I revisited the idea of painting the floor...basically thinking I had little choice at this time.

I had purchased and installed what I think is a beautiful little L.P. gas stove to heat the basement. Although I'm not particularly fond of blue, this blue enamel was striking and I fell in love with it. I even chose a complimentary blue to paint the window sills, and I think they look very nice.

So I looked over floor paint colors again, this time more locally and with far less steps necessary. Admittedly tiny square paint samples are deceptive, I am aghast at how deceptive they really are. I went to Nelson's yesterday morning, chose a pale gray-blue from the chart and had two gallons mixed.

Pale it is not!!!

Now I will be surrounded by blue...I guess it fits my mood.

Celebrating

I am grateful beyond measure, on this my birthday, that the sun is shinning!! I am thankful for so many things in my life and abundantly thankful to awaken to yet another birthday.

As it seemed impossible to get a photo of the sun itself, I got a shot of this Christmas cactus which is blooming on a sunny shelf in the house.

The past dark days have been a bit depressing...gloomy and damp. As if the time change along with its early morning, early evening darkness, was not enough, it has been dim and cloudy during the daytime hours as well.

How welcome is today!!

RAG 'RUGS' OFF THE FLOOR

I recently purchased at an auction a rather lovely brass (admittedly quite tarnished) floor lamp. It already had an 'in good condition' somewhat attractive lampshade when a thought occurred to me that if I were to use it in my 'new' not-quite-completed basement, it would be nice to hand make a shade. Then my rapidly diminishing rag ball collection jumped out at me.

...and I thought, perhaps weaving a 'rag lamp' might prove interesting.

I also have a rapidly diminishing collection of old lamp shades that I have removed or will remove the 'shade' from, and selected the largest so that I could use it on this floor lamp...

...and the weaving began. I liked what was happening and once again was deeply struck by the work some grandmother, mother, aunt, sister had done when cutting, sewing and rolling these rag balls. Some of the fabric was so beautiful, I wanted to be able to actually show it's design

and so, I used strips of my favorite around the top and the bottom, and down the 'ribs'. It is an interesting shade, and although it does not seem to emit enough light to read by, it is plenty for accent, plus.

It has a celebratory feeling to it, somewhat like Christmas.
Excited about this project, I started another. This time I wanted to highlight the fabrics even more, and at the same time, emit more light. So on this shade, I left spaces.

Again, this was so nostalgic in that I thought I even recognized some of the fabric from my youth, which of course was far-fetched.

The completed shade...

...and lit.

This project was fueling me and I seemed to be running on high...so immediately I went on to the next lampshade. This time a much smaller one (at this point I am down to one shade frame).

I had a ball of white chenille that I thought might make a nice lampshade, so I started with that as my warp. I wanted, on this shade, to use only a couple of colors so I searched my dwindling stash and found a solid lavender and a printed lavender.

This is the completed shade.

I think this will make a sweet lampshade for a girl's bedroom. Iris and Jonel concurred, and it got promised to Iris who thought she could surely find a place for it.


I am still so taken with and stunned by the work these women have done in making these rag balls. Some of the 'strips' were quite long, but some of them were a mere 4-5 inches. These rag balls represent so much time and work, and I can imagine these women sitting around the old wood stove in a dimly lit kitchen/living room chatting and cutting and sewing. I sometimes feel their presence and thank them profusely. I wonder where I am going to get more of these rag balls? Do I have the inclination, patience and time to make them myself???????