wienerdog tricks.

I Just Called to Say I Love You

I feel known. Thoroughly known.

I mean, there was this. (You already know that.) But also, I feel known:

As a person who loves big old scissors.

Thank you, Grandma Mary. I really like these.

As a person who thinks that any and all things could and should be made from old (abandoned) polyester.

Thank you, Meredith, for knowing that anything made by Blue Corduroy is a must-have. I have been staring at that jacket for ages--wanting to buy it for Baby Pumpkinhead. So happy to see it on her.

As a collector of stools.

Thank you, Leslie, for setting aside weird ottoman-ish stools for me. And bringing them to my house. And knowing that I will make friends with them.

As the proud new owner of my Dream Button.

Thank you, Kris, for making this for me. My. Exact. Wish. It is attached to my favorite jacket and I shake my head at my good life that it could arrive to me in the mail out of nowhere.

You will note here that I have only pictures of gifts given to me, and almost no record of what I actually made in this last frenetic Christmas Blowout Extravaganza. I did make some napkins. (Sorry, VCC, I know this was probably supposed to be something that needed more drum rolling, but there you have it. I was just trying to make napkins. NAPKINS for the Good Gracious. And I became completely unable to pull it off. First I turned a straightforward project into a complicated one, and then after I simplified it, I  became ENTIRELY uninterested. I am both complex and mildly silly).

I did make a lovely pillow from more of these old quilts (I used pieces of that one at the top) for my sweet Grandma whose mother made them.

And I sewed some pillow covers. (Have become a Thorough Believer in the Envelope Pillow Cover.) By the by, if you have no idea what I'm talking about, do ask because it is the easiest thing ever and completely impressive-looking after you pull it off.

Mostly, though, I ended up making salsa in jars. I know--right? I love to sew and there I was in the kitchen. It's red and green, at least. What can I say?

I have not finished living out my last year's New Year's Resolution. I promise.

This year's resolution: Remain Un-Mentally-Ill.

Solid goal. I feel sure that your presence in my life will a part of what ensures my success.

Old Man Jack's Shears

I got Old Man Jack's upholstery shears, the ones he used in his shop. They are big and heavy and beautiful and still sharp. And they arrived via my Grandma's luggage from Tampa swathed in cotton and tinfoil and still whizzingly sharp.

Old Man Jack was my Great Grandmother Maisy's second huband and he got her by leaving a six-pack of RC cola and a small boquet of flowers he'd grown right there on her doorstop every day. For a year.

My mom says she visited my Granny once and heard her bragging about the piled-up sodas in her pantry and she knew Granny would eventually marry him.

They're crazy big and so dangerous that my Man Spouse has made me promise to hang them at least six feet up on the wall. Got it.

Those are my standard sized cutting shears up there to give you a sense of their mega jumbo size.

Seems like I feel sure I have everything I need to go about Making and then something nifty like these shows up.

Hope you're well. Hope you're sewing. Hope you're making what you need.

 

Rearranging Furniture & Related Deep Happinesses

Unrelated family photo acting as anchor to a post vaguely related to family: all five of us in an elevator at the end of my little brother's wedding. Film: digital. Creative expressionist angle: bounced off elevator mirror while travelling to 7th floor at the moment I realized we never took a picture of all of us actually dressed up at one time.

As part of my commitment to chronicle all of my various Mental Strangenesses, I am sharing here the weird satisfaction I receive from rearranging my furniture.

What does this have to do with a life of making? Get to the part about using old fabric. Are you going to tell us something about polyester? Don't you quilt?

No, friend, sorry. Not today. Today is about special sharing and about giving you some reassurance that you are not, in fact, the weirdest person on the planet. You can always find somebody weirder-er.

Here it is: About every 4 months I completely rearrange all the furniture in my house. There: I said it. I know--you probably do it too, right?

It's not the rearranging that I think is strange. It's this: I am SO HAPPY after I do this. I am strangely satisfied. All seems right in the world. I walk down the hallway into the New Configuration and feel completely assured of butterflies and unicorns appearing to me in the coming hours. I am kinder to my children. I play nice music. I feel like washing the dishes so that the counters will be pretty. Sometimes I write more letters to aging relatives after I do this.

I am, frankly, surprised by the things that make me deeply happy. Other activities in the Personal Deep Happiness Category:  Playing Ms. Pacman while drinking a regular coke with ice, for instance. Not just fun, but Deep Happy Making. Especially when I beat the high score. Sorry to brag. Sorry to brag.

Yesterday's Furniture Rearrangement Extravaganza flipped the little room I've been using the tv room with the big room I've been using for the sitting room. We were just a little too cramped for Movie Night.

And also it was when Mr. WDT smacked Baby Pumpkinhead in the face with the Wii controller while playing Bowling that we decided it was time for a change. I know: we're smart. Super smart.

Limping Toward My Sewing Machine

I have broken every personal rule I have for my own sanity:

1. I haven't sewn anything in more than 11 days.

2. I have talked about almost only abstractions for more than 37 days.

3. I haven't been inside of a thrift shop in the current calendar month.

I am pushing the limits here, People. I am pushing the limits. I am standing in the face of all I know to be good and true and Available to Me In Order to Kep My Own Facial Tick at Bay. I have spit in the face of my own self knowledge. And it's left me in bad shape.

And while there are no excuses, it was because of my day job. Sure. 

I limped upstairs last night and made this.

Weird mirror photo shoot.

And when I came down, I felt much better.

The fray is the best part.

Not all the way better.

Just much better.

   

I really, really like this one uneven hem spot. 

I cut up something old and trashy, touched thread, had to make some guesses. These things all helped.

I recommend them highly if you are on the Edge of Battiness. And if you are, Friend: there there. Sew some straight lines. I promise it will help.

P.S. If you wanna make one of these, this tutorial will do the trick. And if anybody wants more words on how to pull one of these off, just let me know. Happy to jaw more about the how-to of it all.

1) I'm Floorbergasted*. 2) For You.

1) Sure, nice things happen to me. Terrific things, actually. And I am completely committed to sharing these with you. 

But still, I was surprised to receive this in the mail:

 
It was a package! To me! From one of you! Vicki K the Creative Conquistador (so dubbed by me for her smarts about What I Should Do When I Didn't Have a Long Enough Zipper) popped a veritable PILE of goodies in the mail to me. 

A. Pile.

First, I have to show you this:

Hello. Why have I never seen anybody do this? (What? Take something you've said and turn it into stitchwork? Oh--yes, but also why have I never seen anybody use blue thread and red thread and muslin and make it LOOK LIKE A PIECE OF NOTEBOOK PAPER. Sorry if I am completely 15 minutes behind and everybody already made this for everybody else 13 Christmases ago, but this blew me away. I. Just. Love. It.)

Wow. That was nice of her. Oh--there's more.

And they all had super cute little stickers on them.

Sometimes I get excited and open everything in a hurry.

Not kidding: it was better than Christmas. Even Christmas 13 Christmases ago.

Handmade bag (using totally classic weirdish blue retro mushroom fabric that made my eyes water with happiness); little pretty cotton dishcloths; vintage tea towel; HAND STAMPED wienerdog tags (C'-mon.); and a super sweet tutorial for zippers that I totally needed (and will share here so that you can know about it too):

Oh--and GOBS of zippers! I forgot about the GOBS of zippers. And STICKERS. Gobs of stickers! AND some lovely light blue polyester (because no gift is complete, if given to Moi, without the inclusion of some old polyester. Raise your hand if you know my love language. I see that hand. I see that hand.)

2) All of this True Kindness (and the Care of Giving Real Time) has made me want to do something nice for all of you. I remembered this morning that I have a super useful pattern for making a messenger bag over at my cobwebby store and I thought I CAN GIVE EVERYBODY THAT BECAUSE IT'S SO HANDY AND THEY CAN ALL MAKE THEMSELVES A BAG AND BE HAPPY AND IT CAN BE FROM ME.

And I went there to make it free, but those store people don't like things to be free since they send it automatically and all. So I made it a quarter. I was going to make it 43 cents because that's how old I am--but even I get tired of cracking myself up sometimes, so I left it at 25 cents. And somehow I thought that twenty-five cents was sufficiently Free-Ish.

So go over here, friends, for a super cool pattern (I've used it to make this and this and this and this and this and this and this, but I didn't have it all figured out so clearly yet when I made this. Now you will.): A Messenger Bag Pattern Just For You Because I'm Floorbergasted.

*To be "floorbergasted" is to be Floored (confounded, perplexed, amazed) and Flabbergasted (astonished and mystified) at the same time. Of course it is.

Three Really Terrific Things that Happened to Me This Week

Here they are, in no particular order:

1. I learned the word for the polyester that I've been referring to as "the stuff your grandma's pants are made of"--it's FORTREL, a word that I can use with power for the rest of my making life. (Thanks to WDT Regular Krista at Poppyprint Creates for this crucial tidbit.)
2. I was listed in Quilters Home Magazine as part of their "Top 55 Bloggers of 2011."
3. I met--for the first time--a brother I never knew I had.

And now here's what I have to say about lists of terrific things that happen to people: they are not always populated by things that the aforemetioned person ever suspects. This is true, of course, of #2 but even truer of #3. 

And no, I'm not making it up. Quilter's Home Magazine really does consider me a quilter.

Also, I'm not making up #3.

And no, I'm not working on a screenplay for Oxygen or some sort of serial-ed Lifetime TV Movie for Women (although, hmmm . . .)

As it turns out, its entirely possible to wake up one morning with a bigger family than you knew you had and for your life to be flooded with new possibilities--more people to nod with, more people to look like, more people to say more and explain less to. 

And my real take away so far is that I flat out don't dream big enough for myself. I'd say that in the last handful of years, #1 and #2 on the list would have been the sort of things I would consider as solid, Terific Things. Even: Things So Terrific I'd Be Nervous to Hope for Them.

I would say that the message sent to me this week is, "Um. It might be time to dream bigger."

Message received. My telegram in return:

Going to keep Making and Living Differently so STOP If you’re going to suggest otherwise because STOP as it turns out the Other Stuff (money, fame, clothes purchased at retail price) are not Nearly All that I Want STOP I will continue to live fueled by the truth that if I STOP I will miss a boat I don't want to miss: a boat marked STOP There's More

And yes, that's a dramatic ending to this post, but I would like to report that I now have genetic proof in the person of my newly-found brother that Dramatic Storytelling is, in fact, a DNA-given trait. 

How Sorting Books Is Cheaper than Paying a Therapist

I sorted my books today. 

I am working on tackling my upper room right now, but I also having been walking by the three bookshelves that line my dining room and looking at the scrambled egg of it all (Thanks, Baby Pumpkinhead, we all appreciate your book-unshelving abilities. You are very talented) and saying to myself that when I get a chunk of minutes, I'm going to tackle it.

So today was the day. I had the whole day to myself. Home alone. No kids. And so I tackled my bookcases. Sure: some people would have taken a nap or watched top chef and eaten gobs of pasta or something--oh. I did two, at least--but this has settled my insides so nicely.

And I found myself mixing my husband's books in with my own for the first time in almost 13 years today. And I took all the books that we stashed on a high shelf (upstairs) and grouped together in a little book shrine when his mom died. (Because where else would I store 30 books on charismatic intercessory prayer and three travel books to Germany?) And I took down the kids' books that I've always kept to myself, the ones I loved as a child. And I brought them all down for my guys.  I started with this:

And I got it down t just this--a space upstairs just for books about sewing and making and music and writing, all of the stuff that that space is meant to be.

I even came across my first copy of A Horse and his Boy. It was basically just a sheath of a cover filled with separated pages. A relative gave me the Chronicles of Narnia set when I was aorund 11, so it's about a 32 year old paper back. And I almost put it in the recycle, but stopped and look to see if i could save a couple of pages. And I did. And I will frame those--such good stuff from the lion (pages 158 and 159 if you're a Narnia fan). 

And I discovered that I have a pretty beautifully growing mini-library of kitshy household books. And I brought all my books on spirituality downstairs. And I threw away any book that had the word "Idiot" or "Dummie" in it. And any book that just bothered me when I looked at it, so that when I see that big, tall set of shelves, I will know that there's just goodness there. No weird yick.

I even brought the messy basket of maps down so that Pete can sit at the table and pour over them like he likes to. And I figured out a way to have paperbooks out and not have the whole place look like the dorm room of a 19 year old boy. Can't believe I didn't think of it before.

And, best of all (for a complete and total Old Stuff Hoarder like me), I can give away all of this:

And I mixed my sweet, gone mother-in-law's books all in with ours. No more shrine. Now she's just all with us and if anybody asks or wonders why I have 25 books on charistmatic intercessory prayer (okay: I did put 5 in the giveaway pile), I'll just tell them: those were Nana Rae's. They make us feel like she's close by.

The Before

So I have an Upper Room. It's the reason my husband and I bought our house. We both like to play music (me: guitar; him: anything with strings--guitar, ukelele, bandalone, blah blah).

So we were stoked to have a Music Room. We couldn't wait to set our guitars up in this spot. Had our piano hauled up by a crane. (Not making this up. See weird moving photo below*.)

And then I started sewing.

 
This is a photo of my stash from the perspective of the Our Lady of the Thrifted Fabric Goddess Lottacrap

Right.So now the guitars are sort of crammed into an oversized closet with our amps and the fun little hand instruments (somehow they find us) are shoved in a wood bucket and there's, well, Thread Everywhere.

And I'd like to give this room a bit of a makeover. What had happened was, a friend handed me a copy of Where Women Create, and I got all inwardly competitive. So I was going to write here that I really just want to create a better space so that my husband will feel more invited to come up and play music while I'm sewing, but that's only about 42% honest. The other 58% of my heart wants to show those doily chicks up in that magazine. I want to show the world how to get their polyester on and do it with pride.

And also I want to feel rested when I'm upstairs. 

Somehow this most-important-of-rooms has become the storage place for anything marked Um Where Does This Go.

So I'm posting BEFORE pictures here to motivate me (I like to use self-humiliation wherever possible to get myself started on a project, expecially a project that I keep coming back to over and over again). I'm going to start with this hecka ugly futon.

(Who buys a beige futon? Okay--everybody. But it has to be the quintessentially Least Inspiring Piece of Furniture ever known. Yes: I could craigslist it . . .but then I'd have to get it downstairs. Also: it was free, a gift from George Bush himself when he gave out those tax rebates a coupla years back. Because: doesn't everybody go buy a beige futon when the government gives them money? I thought so.)

And what in the world are all these weird books?

And I really want to make one of these also.

Then we'll see where that takes me. . .

 

* Weird photo of proof that we really wanted to do our music upstairs:

My Christmas Plan: Shopping's Done, Now I Just Gotta Sew Till My Fingers Bleed

Last year I practically checked myself in to the state hospital (the one for people who talk to their feet) after Christmas. So much sewing. Yeesh. What am I, a Lady Factory? No. I'm just a girl with too many ideas.

So this year I'm pulling it in. Well, a little. Here's the plan:

The Baby Pumpkinhead (who doesn't read this blog) is getting this dress

Cute pic courtesy of Blue Corduroy

which I just bought tonight at the Stitch Market. Yes it's made of a vintage sheet mixed with that cute brown stripey cotton. It's so cute that I want to wear it. Emily of Blue Corduroy is a reclaiming genius. She had POLYESTER JACKETS there also that I about passed out when I saw. So. Cute. Cuter than Everyone Else's Jackets Everywhere. So my daughter gets a beautiful handmade gift--just not handmade by me.  It works. She got a doll quilt last year and has already personally claimed the quilt that I made for myself earlier this year, so it's a Blue Corduroy dress for her this year. Check.

I whipped up a pair of these socks-to-leggings for Baby Pumpkinhead too. [Oh my gosh, You All, if you have baby girl legs to cover you should absolutely pop over and look at that tutorial. You could make these while icing a cake, explaining Who God Is to your four year old and reorganizing your spoon drawer.] And if I can get her to take them off her arms and put them on her legs, I will make gobs more of these for her. They're hecka easy and shockingly darling. 

The Man Boys are getting quilts that I'm making from my haul. More on that soon. I've got one just ready for binding already.

Then I've got the Big Long Pillow and I'm in the works to make three more Life Changingly cute pillow covers out of scraps from my stack of happy and another out of a quilted piece I made this summer. And I'm going to use Anne K's button inspiration over here at Greenstitch to make them so cute that the openers pass out. (That's always my gift-giving goal: Temporary Unconsciousness.)

And then it's just school pictures for the hoard of Relateds and I'll be off to write and send the family christmas card. And the Man Spouse is getting family pics for his office. (He and I have declared Serious Cheapification of our gifts this year, and I already made him an apron, so it's pics or I start trying to sew some sort of ranky tie for him. I'm going with pics.)

I am also tempted to make a hoard of either these dop kit style bags  or these zip-up pouch bags for the hoards of other friends that I have told myself I will give only cards to but I know I will want to actually have something to give to. Both look like nifty tutorials. But we'll see how I do with the rest of the list.

Not bad. Not bad. Maybe I will only talk a little bit to my feet after Christmas this year. Maybe it will just be whispering.

Ideas & The Wrangling of Them

I'm an ideas girl. I get more of them than I know what to do with--and surely more of them than I can ever pull off (at least without the help of some cloning or reincarnation or a secretary or something). And, as I've mentioned, way more of them than I can remember. So the man-handling and management of my Idea Stream is of particular importance to me. 

And without a system,my house would be scattered with manic notes that said things like mini hatbox bag with center zip (followed by a weird scribbly picture).

I have to have an Idea Book to survive regular life.

And actually, mine's sort of boring. I tend to prefer the plain black book with plain pages. Nothing too fancy (otherwise I suffer from a sort of Overwraught Sense of Expectation and can't get a word out edgewise to myself).

But I was inspired recently by my Blog Buddy Deb's thoughts about how to find inspiration and I thought, "Hmmm. Maybe we all just need better ways to keep track of the inspiration that comes to us in gusts and in spurts (but is still not always automatically available on a given day). Because on those days when I walk upstairs to the Upper (Sewing) Room and I look at the stacks and stack of fabric, and the boxes of thrift-shopped zippers & notions, the desk that I love, all of it--and I STILL can't think of what to make, I've got my Idea Book as a solid fallback.

And maybe my Idea Book deserves a tiny upgrade.

So I made these.

They're journal covers for ideas.

And you might feel shy about your ideas, so I made one with a fake book title. (And it's not Under the Bleachers by I. Pee Freely.) It's The Way Velma Is Better than Marsha and Ginger and Other Controversial Insights. So you could hide your ideas in here and people would think that rather than your brain stream, they'd open it up and find a telling cultural critique about the many superiorities of Velma over her over-loved 70's-hit-kid-show Girl Leads, Marsha and Ginger.

The other journal cover is less shy: Because I said so. 

If you don't have an Idea Book, I say get one. Make a swell cover for it. These are just made the size of regular old composition books (which I have always loved because you can get them full of graphic-squared paper. I love that stuff.) And the covers were cinchy. And mine are, not so shockingly, made of polyester. 

Do you all already keep idea books? Maybe it's just me. Hmmm. Awkward.

The Moment Where The Blog Name Becomes Socially Awkward

 

So I went to this great local sew show last night: The Stitch Market. It's a handful of local (to me) women who are pulling off craft businesses, using a beautifulbeautifulbeautiful home as a comfortable show space. Plus there was cheese there. If you want to get in on the chance to buy from the great stuff they're selling [unbelievably calmingly-sweet birds on branches, the best kind of dear + funky girl dresses or aprons you wished you could give to everybody you know], then go over to the StitchMarket's blog for info on upcoming party dates. Worth checking.

Okay, but back to the part about me.

So the night is closing, and I want to thank the hostess for a lovely time, so I walk up to her and put out my hand and say a perfectly reasonable thing--That If She Had Any Idea That I Have a Blog About Sewing And Was Expecting Me To Tell Her the Name of It Would Be--I say this:

"Ginger. Wienerdog Tricks."

She smiles in a super nice way but there is some slight tinge of confusion maybe on her face, so I say it again.

"Wienerdog Tricks."

And she keeps smiling and she is lovely and kind and I say a couple of other things--only God HImself knows what--and leave for the night.

Right.

Then I woke up this morning and realized that I just told a complete stranger at a party that I train small dogs for a living. 

 

And I told her that with an air of confidence and pride and fulfillment and Happiness. 

Which, of course, wouldn't be that strange if I had been say, at a dog show . . . and not a handmade craft show. 

I said, in essence, to a woman whose home I'd been milling around happily for an hour: "I work for the circus" or "I have a plastic pool in my living room where small canines show their best" or "My pocket is full of sausage snacks" or "tiny dogs listen to me and do what I say."

So that happened. And I thought you should know.

Ginger. Wienerdog Tricks.

 

 

*All photos found on this super-interesting blog that I couldn't stop looking at: http://thecircusblog.wordpress.com/category/101-wild-west-show-circus/

More Love in the Mail & What I Did About it Before

I got this in the mail:

 Which, when I laid it all out--was actually this:

And this came in the mail because really nice Bloggish People Friends send them to me. Super Nice Judy sent me this box of already-sewn polyester quilt squares. 

And this is one of the loveliest things that happens to me as a result of being a person who talks on and on about old polyester. Once I got this from my BPF clevergirl and made this, and before that I got this and made (among other things) this, and then another time I got this, and I hadn't yet told you that I made this: 

When Craftytammie sent me this box of polyester love a few months back, it actually had this strip of pieced squares in it (which I've been staring at, waiting for the moment when I would be ready to turn it into a scarf). 

   

And then I came across this big scrap of soft ribbed, well, polyester (blend). And I used it for a comfy cozy back:

So what am I going to do with this new stack of loot? Well, it's begging to be a pillow cover, but I also might make some more of these out of some piece-ings. I don't know. The polyester sky is the limit.

And I also watched No Impact Man last night (it's on Watch Instantly right now if you're a netflix user) and today I listened to the GreenStitch podcast about greening up your lunch, so I am feeling particularly peppy about my Life's Work of Keeping Old Polyester Out of the Landfill.  

In fact, the answer to my I-always-leave-my-reusable-bags-in-the-car dilemna might very well be to make my reusable bags out of polyester. Hmm. Maybe that's what I'll do with this loot.

My Completely Unofficial WR Designation: Forever, Sort Of

This week Anne Kenlon of the GreenStitch Podcast featured Nikki Prested--who is the super-young grandmother of the (like) 4-year old REFASHION movement. (Click here for more pictures of more things made into other things than you ever thought were re-made anywhere. Ever.)

Am I speaking as a historian? No. Do I know what I'm talking about? Only sorta. Here's what I do know: in May of 2006 Nikki launched Wardrobe Refashion and it has boomed like crazy beyond her wildest hopes (or even thoughts, you will learn if you just listen right here to the interview) into a huge internet family room for people who like to take old clothes apart and turn them into other cooler stuff.

I'm struck by a couple of things about the interview--the first is that Nikki said this great line, "It was just an idea I had one day . . ." and she said it like so many of us would--like "I have about 30 million ideas per day and this one happened to be the one that turned into a monstrous success." And I don't think she saw it coming. In fact, she said as much in the interview. 

So I guess there's the interesting thought that we are living in La La Elsewhere Land if we think we can predict which of our fanoodling ideas will fly and which will flop. 

So there's that. But I loved another thing about the interview--it was Anne's opening that while she has spent gobs of time on WR and been inspired and inspired and inspired, she hasn't ever signed up. And I cracked up, because I've given up signing up too. Making a commitment, I mean. 

And it's because of my butt.

There: I said it. I can't in good butt-costuming conscience promise that I will not, in fact, resort to Retail Means to cover my backside. I have found, the very very hard way, that buying used items off of a rack at a thrift store that doesn't have a dressing room is, um, a bad idea. A hip-highlightingly monstrous idea, in fact.

So I have decided--after hearing Nikki and Anne talk about how freaking cool it is to refashion and knowing that in my heart I have no plan to do otherwise ever, but that I will always buy jeans retail--to create my Very Own Wardrobe Refashion Designation:

 

This is a Refashioned Wardrobe Refashion Personal Commitment to Forever Sort Of Refashioning But Always Buying Retail Bottoms. And I looked and looked and looked on the right-hand nav and didn't find it, so I just the better part of my two-year old's naptime to make it work using a late-90's version of Paintbrush and Microsoft Word. I know: technically impressive. Remember what I've already told you about my role in your life. Right.

Do I think Nikki Prested will be bothered by my FLAGRANT refashioning of her refashioning button? No. I think she'll giggle. Do I think she'll post it as an option on the right hand nav? Um. No. 

Still: I want the world to know that I have made a totally long-term, sub-par commitment to a first-rate  website that is the bee's knees in my old-fabric-using book. 

If I Got a Tatoo

 

 I got this feedback from the the sons today.I fell into a conversational hole this morning where I found myself saying Well if I did get a tattoo what do you think it should say?

The Big Man Boy: "It should say 'I love Dad.'"

The Less Big But Still Big Man Boy: "You should get baby angels with hearts and the little bow and arrows and their buns showing."

I might opt for what the two yr old Baby Pumpkinhead said to me as she poked her head out of her room and down the hall last week when I was mud wrestling with her over her naptime: 

 "I love you sometimes."

She wasn't smiling when she said it. And I can promise you that if it doesn't end up tatooed on some part of me, then I will--at very least--make it into a t-shirt before I die. 

After I print the t-shirt that I have promised myself will be my first venture into screenprinting/freezerstenciling/iron-on-ing: "I am related to Sandra Bullock. She is my mother's half-brother's wife's first-cousin."

Because this is, of course, true.

Maybe God Put Me Here Just to Make You Feel Better About Yourself

Because this is my work space. And so now, no matter how bad yours is, you can know that there is somebody else's that is way way way worse and more embarassing and ohmagahhowdoyougetanythingdoneinthereforthepetessake.

After I went on and on last week about how you REALLY should be culling your stash of rescued thrift store fabric if you don't want your house to LOOK LIKE A THRIFT STORE and blah blah and blah blah. I thought I should do it. So I've started. 

Again, of course. Because this stuff of culling is a Road, Grasshopper. It never ends. It is the Infinity Road. 

And now this, which was full

 

of these weird (mostly cotton) scraps

is now pared down to one Reasonably Sized old school laundry basket . . . of weird (mostly cotton) scraps.

and now all the bigger-than-scrap pieces of rescued cotton have been manic-ly folded.

And I might show you the finished product of this re-loved room of re-loved fabric. Or maybe I'll be kind and let you live with that messy pic so that you can always, always feel like somebody's work room is way way way messier than yours.

Going to work now on some sort of toiletry case out of this really pretty piece of pink polyester I recently acquired. 

 

Greenstitch Interview with Anne Kenlon

 

This really cool thing happened to me yesterday: I was interviewed for a brand-spanking new podcast called GREENSTITCH. Anne Kenlon is three episodies in to a podcast devoted entirely to sewing with repurposed goods. Solidly up my alley. Up my freeway, actually.

So go check it out. She's got a great presence and asks fun questions, and I went ON AND ON AND ON about working with reclaimed goods and it was super fun since I never, ever get tired of talking about the fun and cheapness and green good times of what I am now coming to refer to (when I talk to myself about it) as FABRIC COMPOSTING. You know: you throw trash into a pile and it turns into something else. That sort of thing.

For my interview with Anne, click right here.

For the rest of the episodes, click right here.

For Anne's GreenStitch Blog, click right here.

To suscribe to the GreenStitch Podcast through itunes (so that you never, ever miss an episode, ever in your whole life and so that it automatically shows up on your ipod), click right here. And then click "view in itunes" to find the "SUBSCRIBE FOR FREE" button.

My Grandma Got Her Singer On

This was my great grandmother's 1929 Model 66 electricy-converted treadle machine, manufactured in Elizabeth, New Jersey. 

And I didn't know that for a long time. I mean, I knew it was my great grandmother's machine, but that's all I knew.

 

I've had it at my place for about a year or so now. It's been hiding in the wood table it's supposed to hide in--and since I haven't been able to swing threading the thing or--until now--find any sort of manual that told me how to--that's all it's done: hide. I mean, I have googled my head off to figure out how to thread the thing and have had No Luck.

So I really did--as I said I would--schlep it in my minivan up to my Grandma's house for our long weekend with her. (Best part: I told my husband after the van was packed. Excellent.) And then I bamboozled her into helping me get the thing up and running again. Which she was thrilled to be bamboozled into doing, let me tell you.

"That machine has the dreamiest little stitch," she said while staring out into some unknown place in Sewing Space.

So we hit it Trial & Error Style: Thread. Test. 

  
Thread. Test. 

Thread. Test.

(And yes she just had surgery on her wrist and so most of what she did, she pulled off completely one-handed. That's how she is: Determined.)

But she was as excited as I was to figure it all out--and after lots of effort, and in between stories of the Amish women she knew in Wyoming who could hand quilt a queen-sized quilt top in a day from the mega-looms hanging from their ceilings, we broke down and tried (again) to find the instruction manual online. 

And then we did. And after squinting and re-re-re-reading the threading instructions, finally pulled it off.

So. Exciting. And really a nifty experience for me to sit down to a machine with my great grandmother's full name punched out in sticky label along the side of it. 

And so I stayed up late and started another quilt top. And then I cut up a (new) bikini I found at a thrift store and turned it into an ipod cover. And my grandma asked and asked about what I was making and I told and told. And most of all I sat and felt the sturdy hum of that steel machine and really, really, liked knowing that it was my relative.

So this girl's name is Lettie. I really hope she and Ro get along.

HELP FOR YOU IF YOU ARE TRYING TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO THREAD YOUR OLD OLD SINGER THAT USED TO BY YOUR GREAT GRANDMOTHER'S:

If you've got an old, old Singer machine, you might be tempted by sites like this one and this one and this one. They do, after all, come up sort of high on the list when you google something like, "Guy, I have my great grandmother's singer and I don't know how to figure out where to find the stinking instruction manual to thread the thing."

But, as you would know and I struggled to figure out, your best bet is to go right over here to the Singer mega-site. 

TO FIGURE OUT THE WHERE & WHEN OF YOUR MACHINE

First find the machine's serial number (which is stamped on a cute old-timey looking metal plate) and go right here. There are three data-bases to choose from, depending on how many letters your machine's serial number begins with--click the one that's yours. When you go there, you'll see the year your machine was made. And then if you click the RED links on the bottom right, you'll go to a page like this one and then you'll scroll down like crazy frantically not believing that these sorts of records are actually available and then you'll find your machine and that will tell you the model number of your machine (and where it was manufactured, which is sort of fun to know).

TO GET THE INSTRUCTION MANUAL

Then go back to that page with the red links and click on ORDER REPLACEMENT MANUAL and you'll head right here to put your serial number in again. (Have you had to enter your serial number 82 times? Yes.)

And if you're lucky, it'll be right there for FREE download. And if it's not free you can order pretty cheap-like. There you have it. Happy Singer Machine Geneology Hunting.

Misc. Hoopla & Such

#1 Evil Baby Update #3. See here and here for earlier news about this baby.

 

It's Long Wear Lipstick. (Of course it is because what baby reaches for clear lipgloss?)

Oh--and this happened last week. 

 

 

It's baking soda.  

#2 Made a lamp out of a vintage double-stack coffee pot with a lamp kit from the hardware store and some newly-discovered inner Electrician within me. 

 

Now I want to drill holes through everything and stick lampshades on them. Don't stand still too long near me. I want to cover it now with fabric, but I would prefer polyester and that would most likely melt, smoke or otherwise convert itself back to its original petroleum form. So there's that.

#3 Am joining my first-ever quilting bee, thanks to Deb who is not only willing to organize a quilting bee that spans form New Zealand to California, but is nice to me when I send her emails like WHAT ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO DO WHEN YOU'RE IN A QUILTING BEE BECAUSE I HAVE NO IDEA AND WHAT'S A QUILT BLOCK ANYWAYS AND HOW BIG ARE THE BLOCKS SUPPOSED TO BE PLUS I DON'T HAVE ANY VINTAGE SHEETS AND WHEN IS IT DUE TO BE MAILED?

#4 Have spent the last 3 weeks rearranging every stick of furniture in my house. So that's been happening. Oh--and I'm painting a bathroom orange because white is so fifteen minutes ago. (And why do a house project involving paint that doesn't require four coats? Exactly.)

#5 Have been reading and really, really enjoying Julia Child's MY LIFE IN FRANCE, which I picked up as I was finishing JULIE & JULIA: MY YEAR OF COOKING DANGEROUSLY, both of which I heartily recommend if you like to read about someone falling headlong into a life of Making and also if you like it when author's cuss. Which Julie Powell does, and it makes my soul ring when I read it.

#6 Currently trolling vintage pattern stores like this one and falling into a zombie-like trance with thoughts of wardrobe sewing. Only standing in front of the jump rope so far. Haven't jumped in. Would really love to sew this and this and this, though.

#7 And I haven't even given you the SEATBELT UPDATE yet. I'll save that for next time . . .

Personal Limitation #2

I sat down yesterday and wrote a list of my personal limitations: "Current Limitations to Consider Fixing/Conquering." In my thirties, this would have been titled, "Ways I'm Lame," but here in my forties I have the freedom to make lists like this one to think about and try to Get At. 

#2 was "Discomfort--unease, actually--in a dress, or in high heels or in anything really pretty." (This particular limitation was listed after #1 "Fear of snakes" and #3 "Weak back." and I wrote it because I was freshly off a wedding where-at I spent 32% of my time worrying that my dress would fly over my head. I kept yanking at it like the wind was some licentious old man or something. Yeesh.)

And I frankly chalk #2 up to lack of practice. I never wear dresses. Or skirts. I don't really like to get dressed up at all. And I think I figured out this weekend that it's because I RARELY find something in the Dress Dept of Anywhere that when I put it on and look in the mirror I think, "Oh look--there. That's Me." No. I usually think, "Um. What?"

I was walking through a mall on Friday (desperately searching for a dress to wear to the wedding THE NEXT DAY) with my 21 Year Old Sister Who's Read Cosmo Since She Was 8--and who currently works for the big N department store and who is 1 of the 2 people in the world that I can shop for myself with, and I was telling her of my difficulties in the Find a Dress I Feel LIke Myself In. And then I said it out loud, "I think I'll probably need to start sewing clothes for myself."

Long internal pause.

This is, of course, a big way to solve my dillemma--especially because a) I love to remake clothes 2) there are a ka-million good places to find vintage patterns and IV) I have been watching in awe as other people do it for some time now. Plus, everyone's doing it.

There's only one tiny problem: I don't like to do it. I mean, I've only tried once actually sewing from a true pattern--and that project is currently shoved in a big ziploc on a back shelf. (Oh wait--even better: twice.)

But I'm going to give it another shot I think. My grandma sent me birthday money and I immediately went to Amazon and within 3 minutes and 4 clicks, I had purchased these two books to help me:

 

   

 
And then my sister gave me a fat patternmaking textbook just like the one she used when she was at FIDM. So that's my update: Destined.

 

Personal Limitation #4 ("Easily Frustrated by Perceived Failure") can now also be simultaneously attacked. All I need to do now get a pet snake and do my back exercises.

Right.

I've Got Plastic Flags in My Parking Lot

They're, um, only metaphorical flags. In a metaphorical parking lot.

The deal is, today marks opening day for  THE TRICK SHOP, Wienerdog Tricks' new shop. (Woo Hoo! Clapping. Clapping. Waving. High-fiving. More clapping. Meaningful Nodding. Winking. More clapping.)

The Personal Sharing

I've tried craft fairs (One Word: lady with a cat stroller). I've tried custom orders (Two Words: boring and stressful if I am not in the design process all by my weird self). I've tried selling to friends (Three Words: more painfully awkward than running into your boss in the gym bathroom.). None of these were the right fit for me.

More Personal Sharing

I like to go upstairs and hide and figure out how to make things out of weird old polyester and goofy scraps I find at thrift stores and hiding in my husband's aunt's barn. And then I like to explain it to other people. And I really, really, really like giving away what I make for gifts. And I rarely have extra to sell. (But when I do, you'll be the first to hear about it.)

The Patterns

So I've decided to sell my patterns. And you can get them right here. 

Right now you'll find the GORGEOUS NERD BAG:

 

The GENUINE ARTICLE BAG (the bag formerly known as your good friend, the Army Knockoff bag):

 

The GOOD WRITER BAG:

 

 and the CASH MONEY WALLET:

 

All pattern tutorials are up to their necks in photos and easy-to-follow instructions that don't make you feel like a challenged idiot. There is even some high-fiving to help you along the way. Included pattern pieces are ready to print on regular old 81/2" X 11 paper with no fancy re-sizing to mess about with. 

So there you have it, WDT BPF's. Do go in and peek. It's friendly in there and the coffee is on. And nobody will follow you around the store and ask you if you need help with anything. So that's a positive.

The Other Good News

Now that the shop is up, I can get back to sewing sewing sewing sewing. I like sewing.

Handfulling

I don't really clean my house as much as I Handfull it. I go to one room and grab a handfull like this one:

Then I proceed to visit 4 rooms to return the House Minutiae to its best locale. Then I do it again:

Another 4 pieces of Weird TV Room Detritus. Another 4 visits around the house.

Sure, I could be cleaning my toilet. Sure, I could be scrubbing my baseboards with my husband's toothbrush. Sure, I could be swabbing something. (I have plenty of poop decks, believe me.)

I will get to these things when I'm finished Handfulling. Check back in 16 years.

What This Only Child Was Thinking When She Had Three Kids

The dinner table will be nice and loud. There will always be something to do. There will always be somebody to talk to. Everybody will be all up in everybody else's business. Nobody will ever be alone when it's raining outside. Everybody will borrow everybody else's socks.  The car will feel squished when you go anywhere. The house will never be quiet.

And it was all true.

I Made a CD This One Time

My guys were small. I hated Barney. And I was a part of this wonderful parent participation program (that's us up there) with a big passle of friends who also had wild-haired, wild-eyed kids and we used to sit in a circle and sing. And the more we did that, the more I went home and wrote down songs for us to sing. And then I'd bring my guitar on those perfect Wednesdays and I'd add another song to our list of Wheels on the Bus and Itsy Bitsy. Until after a while--maybe a year or so--we were mostly singing the songs that I'd written. And there were a big list of them.

And then one of the moms said (over and over): Why Don't You Make a CD?

And I said, "Um. Because I'm not a singer." But finally I got over it and I said to myself But You Are a Song Leader and That's Probably Good Enough and I went in my freetime--in between teaching slots and while the boys were covered at preschool--and I sat in a tiny little studio trailer behind this guy's house and pounded out my songs on my big jumbo alvarez guitar into a mic and he (sitting about 16 inches in front of my chair in the tiny gardens-shed sized studio) recorded it all. 

And then I heard it all.

And then I recorded it all over again. And we went into the big parent participation classroom and recorded a half dozen songs live. And there were kids yelling the background of all the songs, and that was the best part for me. Their little voices all mixed up with mine.

And then it was declared Good Enough and I pulled in a great graphic artist who took a real-live photo shoot of a plate of Mac N Cheese for the cover and used a friend's kid's artwork and had the thing stamped and run and shrink wrapped. And there it was--a CD: Macaroni Boy Eats at Chez Shooby Doo.

 

And then for a couple of years my Man Spouse and I hit the trail in summertime stretches and played to mini-crowds of kids and parents at libraries and such. And we had a lovely time. And the more we sang and talked with other people about singing real kids music the more cool people we met.

And then I got pregnant and took a two-year maternity leave from singing. And I started baking and sewing and gardening and nesting like a madwoman and really haven't stopped to sing much.

And I'm writing all this to tell you that Ginger Hendrix and Big Daddy Pete are coming out of seclusion tomorrow. So if you're within a longshot of the central coast of California, you can come see us at these two gigs:

•     Cayucos Library Grand Opening: Friday, April 16th at 3:45 pm (310 B Street, Cayucos)
•     Parent Participation Pajama Party: Friday, April 23rd, 6:00 - 7:30 pm (San Luis Adult School, Rm J2, SLO, CA)

And if you are in the know--and You are--you'll know that after they're both over I'll run home and sew something. And it will probably be made out of old polyester.

One of Those Moments That Make You Feel Squishy

But then you remember that the baby was in the basket because you probably needed to stash her somewhere and the clean laundry was nearby. And that she was probably crying like a stuck horse before the shot was snapped.

Still, it's a squishy shot for me. 

Partly because she just turned two and had her first ever Birthday Parade, which I am high hopes will be an annual tradition for her. Every girl oughta have a parade where her friends get on their bikes and ride around the school and somebody beats on a drum and some other people hold signs with her name on it and she marches proud in the middle of the mini-throng.

Why I Wish I Had Moved to New York When I Was 19.

Because I think my real calling may have been in costume design. Don't think Merchant Ivory films; think that guy on Project Runway who was really good at the drag queen outfits and missed the finale because of his inclusion of human hair into the design mix. Think him. 

I'm at it again right now. Let's just say that if I thought gluing buttons to paper clips was life-centeringly relaxing, then gluing blue felt stars to big white stretch LADY underwear is just as good. (Probably wouldn't have made good christmas gifts, though. Right.)

And because as I typed that I realized you'd never believe me, I took this shot:

Dressing up in tights is about one of the best things I ever do in my free time. I've volunteered for a kooky youth organization for many years now and they invite me out to do goofy skits for their leadership every so often. So I'm heading to Colorado for a retreat. (100 women, some solitude time, and me in tights. Standard women's retreat stuff.) I'm going as WonderPerson--she is like Wonder Woman, but she doesn't want to be limited by the gender-specific name. You know how it is.

Write this note to self: Remember to purchase multi-colored tights to fashion costume of self-imagined superhero for personal good times.

You'll thank me.

Current Happiness-es

1. This old polyester which arrived in the mail from a super nice BPF who understands that I am a sort of POLYESTER RESCUE STATION (kind of like the people who give a home to abandoned shelty dogs when their owners move or something) and that I would find a purpose for its little polyester life. 

--which, I have to say, I already have and will be keeping you all posted on my plot to use this yardage along with some other I've got to make SLIPPER CHAIR COVERS. I know: you can't wait. Me neither.

2. I hung these. 

 And that's positive. (Totally velcro-ed them to the wall. Classy.)

3. I've started working on drafting my first pattern. And I have to say that it's more addicting than quilt crack (which I tried shortly before Christmas). 

It's like taking your best sewing idea and turning it into a PUZZLE--which for this most-of-my-life Only Child in the backseat of every car we ever drove doing them, is actually amazingly satisfying. Plus I'm workin on it the old school way with tape and paper and scissors. And I love taping and scissoring. It's all up there with gluing. 

That's the update. What are you guys up to?

Get to Know Me

This is the wall above my desk. I'm just saying.

The "M" is for the word MAKE that I am cutting out of old polyester and sewing together to hang on the wall of my newly overhauled working space. (And also that's an old tv tray that I've got hanging as a magnet board--terribly cheap and terribly handy).

The pattern sleeve is for a pile of t-shirt refashioning that I'm doing--and thanks to clever her, I am now using a sleeve pattern piece to do this better. (That's because I watched this over on her site about making a dress from a man's shirt--and it's a super cool photo tutorial.)

Ro is in for a service and gone from home for two days. Weird. 

I talked to those moms again today about living a creative life and told them all that we need--as moms and just as regular humans--to really live a life that includes making. That we talk in the mom culture about making and creative projects like they are something we let ourselves do as a treat, like a pedicure of something--but that we wait until we're right up on the edge of meltdown mode before we claim it. And that it's better to just claim it and live the way we're suppose to live: as makers. And they had wonderful questions like "How do you have time for that?" "and "What do you do about your kids and your husband needing your attention?" and "What if you don't have space?" and "What if you don't have money?" and "What if you don't have any clue where to begin?" And I talked and talked and they listened and nodded and it was all just all-around lovely. 

I could talk about Making all day.

I've Been Meaning To Tell You

About my chalk boards. 

Not about hanging them, just about having them.

 

Anyway--I have a little tv/homework room (hmmmm--interesting combo. Right) that I have covered in chalkboards, all found at thrift stores and weird public auctions. 

I like chalkboards for these reasons:

1. They're totally FIND-ABLE at thrift stores and weird public auctions.

2. They take up a lot of wall space. This is a real decorating key for me because I am such a treasure-hunter but I really shake and shiver to spend more than about 4 and half bucks at a time. And so buying anything--even used--to cover a big chunk of wall space is really a challenge. I am forever in a thrift store with a big framed something art-ish, saying to myself, Do I like it 9 dollars worth? And so I am forever the girl with one tiny picture smack in the middle of a big wall. Cute. Real cute.

3. If you feel like it, you can write on them. Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don't. I tend to even like the look of them when they're blank. When you do write on them, they're terrific for menu plans and chores lists and also happy seasonal greetings and reminders or even story-boarding about Jackie Robinson when you are nine and your dad is helping you on the report that is due.

 

4. If you're particular about color, you can re-surface them with black chalkboard paint. My really with-it friend who has such good taste that sometimes I can still taste it when I leave her house did this. And the effect was really, actually, quite stunning. I, however, am currently embracing schoolhouse green in my tv room. 

5. As a tip, you'll want to buy a decent eraser. Do you have one yet, Ginger? No, and that's why Jackie Robinson is still up there. I have this dream eraser on my list of future happinesses to purchase for myself.

And that is all that I have been meaning to tell you about chalkboards.

True Love, Pajamas & Special Sharing

Today kicks off Sew Mama Sew's TRUE LOVE Month. (A decidedly more others-focussed upgrade from my own Sew Sew Selfish Month.) 

And I've put together a tutorial for a SUPER SIMPLE NIGHTIE over there--so if you're a local Wienerdog Tricks BPF, then go check it out. 

 

Soooo cuuuuute. Guy. Thanks. 

In related Special Sharing:

1. I put up a store. What? I know. I've been scheming about putting out some tutorials to sell digitally, so they're up. Woo Hoo! Or at least my first one's up. It's the tutorial for the cash wallet envelope system that I've been talking about. (And it's begging to be made out of beautiful old polyester.) 

  

 
 2. Those happy little tutorials that have been living on my nav are staying put in the happy little For Free spot. And more will come to live over there (see #3) and more will come to live in the shop (Hmmm: messenger bag, retro toddler apron, old school kleenex box ditty bag). 

3. The Army Bag Knock Off Tutorial is next up.

Good times, friends. 

 

Thing for YOU #1: The ACTUAL PMS Cure Playlist

Kristen loves us all. She put up the PMS Cure Playlist over at itunes. Just click here for it. Guy. She's nice.