on the selvage

Local Lunch

2008-03-15T14:43:00.003-04:00

Today was one of those days that made me feel like I never want to even consider leaving Brooklyn. It is the closest I have ever felt to my childhood fantasy of living on Sesame Street. (more about that someday...)

I took Murphy (my silly little dog who needs dog friends lest he start believing that he is one of the cats) to the dog run at a sort of near-by park.
On the way home, we stopped by the farmer's market and picked up some random goodies, and came home to make the most perfect meal... braeburn apples, strong cheese, hard-boiled egg, wheat bread and wildflower honey, all from farms within a short drive of NYC. (if it looks like it wasn't much of a feast it's because I gobbled up most of it before it occurred to me how beautiful and "photo worthy" it was.)
I feel so eco! (so much better than a Big Mac)
And for dinner I can fry up the purple potatoes and red onions... yum :)

Happy Birthday Dar

2008-03-11T23:02:00.001-04:00

March 11 was Dar's birthday. I don't remember what the date was that she died... I know I was 14 and I remember that the sunset was extraordinary that day. My dad had picked me up from work and we decided to make a detour down PCH (Pacific Coast Highway) to watch it over the ocean. I still remember him pulling over and saying "it looks like the gates of heaven are opening". We just sat there and marveled as the sky grew darker and less colorful.
It reminded me of that Lifesavers commercial from the 80s where the little girl and the dad are watching the sun set behind a mountain... he's saying "going, going, gone." and she whispers "do it again, Daddy".
We drove home, went in the house and someone (I think it must have been my mom) said that they had just gotten a call, Dar died.
Really, she had been gone for a long time, a prisoner in her broken body. Personality and character lost to Alzheimer's. And I remember feeling relief that it was over for her, not my own relief but as if hers was so great that it spilled all over the earth and comforted us. She was free from the prison, and her Carl was welcoming her home after being apart for more than half a century.
She wore her wedding band until she died, and I wear it as my wedding band now. It's been through a lot in both of those marriages, and it's worn and nicked and scratched. I hope it lasts to be a reminder of love and devotion for another generation. The engraved date is still visible on the inner edge, actually it says "C.B.W. to G.E.T. March 25, 15". I'm sure it wouldn't be hard to find the date that G.E.T. went to C.B.T. (my sister knows every date and time and place, and what everyone was wearing...). But I'd rather just remember the date that she was sent to us. March 11, 1894.

The Isles of Shoals

2008-03-01T11:44:00.006-05:00

This unlikely couple met at a little island hotel on one of the rocky islands divided along the border of New Hampshire and Maine. She was a waitress and he was a scholar and Shakespearian actor from a prominent family. Fortunately, opposites attract, because this pair are my great-grandparents (that's Dar on the right!).
My Grandmother told the best stories of their adventures together... she being the one to change a flat tire when the car broke down, and her mother-in-law scolding him because his wife preferred the company of "the help" in the kitchen to that of the high-society guests at a dinner party.
I have their wedding silverware, and I use it every day. The thought of her standing over a sudsy sink, laughing with the servants (she had such a servant's heart) makes me smile and makes washing my own dishes a little more pleasant.
Maybe this Spring I'll make it to this place that was so special to all of them... I've always wanted to go. It's not so far from Brooklyn...

mmm... warm

2008-02-12T00:13:00.000-05:00

when it's 15 degrees outside, there's nothing like warm pb cookies inside

I'm a little teapot...

2008-02-10T01:45:00.002-05:00

short and stout,

here is my handle, here is my spout. When I get all steamed up then I shout
"TIP ME OVER AND POUR ME OUT!!!"

not only was this my favorite song when I was 5, but this teapot is part of a set (the part that must have been broken long before my time) that belonged to Dar. As far as I know, only the sugar dish remains. I still remember her lovely old hands (mine are looking more and more like them every day) holding that spoon steady, picking up a heaping teaspoon-full of sugar and expertly shaking the perfect amount on our buttered toast, then tapping the corners to sprinkle the excess back into the pot. Amazing how I even remember the sounds. A little dash of cinnamon, and we were eating like queens. But never with the teapot. We mostly drank oj.
I found this at the salvation army thrift shop down the street from our house (well, it was actually a questionably legal basement apartment in Pontiac, Michigan.) about 6 years ago. Preparing to move, we were dropping things off, and my husband made it very clear that we had no money and no room... we already had too much "useless crap" to pack. ("useless crap" is a term that covers everything other than his clothes, shoes, books, dvds and various other personal items that hold much more significance than, say, towels or dishes. They would fall under the "useless crap" category.) Anyway... I couldn't help but swoon over this sweet teapot; identical to the sugar dish from my childhood idol's kitchen table. But I immediately put it back down. I wasn't going to bother.
The next day I was packing, scrubbing walls, etc. and he walked in with my teapot. It was literally his last $15, and it was the least practical thing he had ever done (other than, perhaps, falling in love with me). Even still, after all of these years and what they hold, I can hear the "I love you" that it was meant to speak.
damn teapot. I love it too. Whatever happened to that guy? I liked him.

2008-02-02T17:23:00.001-05:00

Make new friends,
but keep the old.

One is silver,
the other is gold.

A circle is round,
it has no end.
That's how long,
I will be your friend.

A fire burns bright,
it warms the heart.
We've been friends,
from the very start.

You have one hand,
I have the other.
Put them together,
We have each other.

Silver is precious,
Gold is too.
I am precious,
and so are you.

You help me,
and I'll help you
and together
we will see it through.

The sky is blue
The Earth is green
I can help
to keep it clean

Across the land
Across the sea
Friends forever
We will always be

2008-01-31T12:09:00.001-05:00

. . . but while I breathe Heaven's air, and Heaven looks down on me, And smiles at my best meanings, I remain Mistress of mine own self and mine own soul.

~Lord Alfred Tennyson
from The Foresters

stitches

2008-01-12T00:48:00.000-05:00

I am too clumsy for pilates (and I have no idea what my "core muscles" are, or if I even have any), and I just don't have the attention span for yoga (that part of my brain is stuck on "two-year-old who had a whole box of frosted flakes for breakfast" mode). So, how to relax? Trickery. Occupy my mean Left Brain and let Righty run wild; that's the best I can do. I am one of those weirdos that finds ironing and vacuuming relaxing... anything that requires concentration but not thought.
But my favorite "relaxing hobby" is knitting. I am not great at it. Well, I am good enough to almost never make a mistake (because I don't have the patience to learn how to fix knitting mishaps) as long as I do the same stitch, and there can be no counting whatsoever. I've gotten to the point that I can do it in the dark, which was really good last Spring when I got the majority of this scarf underway. I was given the incredible, only seen in movies, would have wished for it the rest of my life opportunity to fly from Brooklyn to CA so I could sit up all night every night at my dear grandmother's hospital bedside during one of her last weeks of her amazing life. We listened to opera, laughed, cried, and she told me lots of stories I had heard a thousand times before. (the last time you hear it is the best, I promise)
My favorite was about the one time she took up knitting, to do "her part" for the soldiers during WWII. (as if taking a boat to Germany to protest against Hitler hadn't been enough). There was a USO campaign to get the ladies at home to knit up scarves to keep the service men warm, and they were handing out balls of yarn. Being the over-achiever that she was, she loaded up as many as they'd give her, and knitted her heart out... the only thing she didn't know how to do was cast off. "No problem... one of those women down there can figure out how to divide them up, right?" So, when she told her mother (who was a domestic goddess) what she had delivered to the USO ladies, they ended up laughing until they cried... some guy ended up with a scarf that was about 12 feet long.
Someday I'd love to meet the family with the story... "when grandpa was in the war he got the longest, worst knitted scarf in all the world..."
So, my project may take years to finish (look at those tiny stitches!), and I lost the ball of brown yarn (on an airplane, I think) so the design has become a little wonky. But those stitches will tell their own story, and this will forever be one of my most treasured possessions.

California dreaming...

2007-05-28T23:31:00.000-04:00

Oh, California... I know I came from you, but the longer I am away the stranger you become. Your people seem to not even notice the tree robots that watch them from alongside your many freeways. Who started the rumor that they were cell phone transmitters? Maybe the trees suggested it through their mind altering radio waves. How else would they believe that a palm tree and a pine tree could live happily so close together?

show & tell... button of the week

2007-05-23T15:23:00.000-04:00

I have been told that this little one is an old diaper button, probably from the 1800's.

girlie girl dress

2007-05-16T22:44:00.000-04:00

so, the photo is a little obscure (I call it "self-portrait and hip, and by the way that is just a shadow on my armpit") but I had to show off the cute dress I made. It's a blending of two of my favorite designers, Heather Ross (fabric) and Aimee Dolby of Betsy Ross Patterns ("girlie girl" dress pattern)
It's like we're all hanging out together... sort of

show & tell... button of the week

2007-05-16T17:26:00.000-04:00

I really love these guys. They are Bakelite and HUGE.
When I first started collecting buttons about 18 years ago (geeze, that sounds like a long time!) I wanted them to make jewelry out of. But after the first few that I destroyed by removing the shanks and gluing them together to make a brooch or something, I had to stop. I felt like they weren't meant to be anything other than what they already are. And they all have a story.

I imagine these two, on some great slubby wool swing coat, braving any weather for the adventures of their coat's owner in c. 1964. (picture Marlo Thomas or Audry Hepburn in big plastic sunglasses and boots made for walkin')

deep sigh...

2007-05-15T11:56:00.000-04:00

Hope Wallace, will you be my friend? Or maybe you can just come over and cover the walls of my apartment with your magic...

edgar

2007-05-14T19:44:00.000-04:00

cats are just tiny women in cheap fur coats

Happy Mother's Day

2007-05-13T00:27:00.000-04:00

a page from a sweet little book I found from 1939 that seems very well loved. I imagine that many little chickadees were read to sleep by their mommas, heavy eyelids trying to stay open for their favorite bird...
to the women who tuck in, wipe up, kiss all-better and show their "cunning brood exactly where to look for food"... thank you for the world that your nurtured children will impact.
xoxo

twinkies

2007-05-11T23:02:00.000-04:00

a May day many, many years ago...
What could be better than a dress that matched your big sister's? Why, matching hair ribbons of course!

a few of my favorite things...

2007-05-09T13:31:00.000-04:00

Heather Ross, you rock.
Your fabrics continue to inspire me to buy and covet yards and yards even if I will never get around to the projects that will do them justice...

show & tell... button of the week

2007-05-08T12:31:00.000-04:00

okay, okay... so I couldn't pick just one. But they are sort of a set.
I went to Europe all by myself as a crazy 22 year-old (I'll never tell how long ago that was) and was trying to travel light, since my backpack already weighed more than I did.
Among the few purchases that I could justify as more than worth their weight were these lovely buttons. I picked them up from a sweet little old lady at a flea market in Cambridge, just before having my first taste of cider at a local pub. For those of you who think that cider is a nice, refreshing apple juice, perfect for guzzling on a hot day... I learned the hard way this is not so. But I digress...

the neverending quilt

2007-05-08T12:22:00.000-04:00

It's just like me to take on an endeavor that may never be finished... but it's all about the process, right?
This is the quilt that I have been making for my dad for going on three years. But the longer it takes, the more of a gift it is. So far it has been 3 Christmas presents, 3 birthday presents, Father's Day and a wedding gift.

Unfortunately, I'm getting a little attached to it myself...

what's your favorite color?

2007-05-08T12:08:00.000-04:00

Whippoorwills call, evenin' is nigh
Hurry to my Blue Heaven
Turn to the right, there's a little white light
Will lead you to my Blue Heaven

You'll see a smilin' face, a fireplace, a cozy room
Little nest that nestles where the roses bloom

Molly and me, and the baby makes three
We're happy in my, in my Blue Heaven

You're gonna see a smilin' face, fireplace, cozy room
And a little nest nestled where the roses bloom

Just Molly and me, and the baby is three
We're so happy in my Blue Heaven
We're happy in my Blue Heaven
We're happy in my Blue Heaven!

"what's a selvage?", you ask

2007-05-03T18:52:00.000-04:00

a selvage is the very edge of the fabric, where all of the threads come together in what looks like a frayed mess, but can actually be quite lovely

every stitch a loving thought

2007-05-03T13:59:00.000-04:00

So, I guess I'll start with Dar, because it all really started with her.

Dar was my maternal great-grandma. Her given name was Grace (which she always thought was "silly") but for some unknown reason an aunt started calling her Dar as a child and it stuck.
Picture a mixture of Lucille Ball, Martha Stewart and Mother Theresa. And since I only knew her from the perspective of an adoring little girl who soaked up every ounce of nurturing I could get, she became the roll model of my heart and hands. She was my idea of perfection. Sometimes I even think that there is such a thing as genetic memory, like the first time I smelled lilacs wasn't the first time.
But I digress. Dar was a seamstress, a knitter, a cook, a baker, a gardener, a story teller, a back rubber, a boo boo kisser and a total nut. But her greatest talent was her ability to make each of us great-grandchildren feel like her favorite at some point. Of course, I always knew the truth... but I would never tell the others for fear of hurting their feelings.
For a long time as a young woman I had a hard time trying to live up to her image, wanting to be her. But then I realized that the things about her that were in me were gifts, not burdens, and that I would do my best to be a woman that she would want to knit with or laugh with rather than trying to duplicate her (as if anyone could). I do, however, copy one thing that she always did... I stitch a little xoxo onto the edge of anything I make for someone I love. And I really believe in what she taught me... "every stitch a loving thought".