did you buy that new?

Moving House: *Definitely* Not New

The house isn't just not-new; it's not ours.  We're going to be renters again, after having owned two homes in the last seven years, and it's - a lot discomfiting.  It's also a little embarrassing, and I am having to face down my ego, high-noon style, something I don't enjoy too awfully much. 

I keep trying to make myself take some photos of the house we've rented, and while it's a cute bungalow, a very Portland house (or Berkley, if you're familiar), I just can't get past how dingy and beat-up it is.  Plus the kitchen is just the most disheartening thing ever, if you're me and you've been living in two brand-new kitchens in the last several years, one of which you designed your own self and though you didn't spend TOP dollar on it, you sure spent plenty, and it was *nearly* your dream kitchen, and damn, if that isn't nearly close enough.  The kitchen in our rental has no dishwasher (unless I'm standing in it).  It's got some seriously banged-up counters and cupboards.  The paint is this off-white mess of chips and scratches and warps and the floor is awful.  The oven is old and white and ugly, and it isn't gas, it's electric, with one of those flat cook-tops my husband and I both despise, and the only other appliance (because there's not even a fan above the stove, which, by the way, is literally three feet from the bathroom door, *small shudder*) is the small, ancient refrigerator, an off-white affair that has probably seen some serious use.  There's actually an ironing board intact from the initial structure inlaid in the wall that, when you pop open the cupboard, drops the iron out. 

I am trying SO VERY HARD to imagine it painted (we're attacking it this weekend with masses of leftover paint from our current house + a few extra buckets that I'm spoiling myself by purchasing), clean, and established with our things inside, and desperately trying to convince myself it will be sweet and lovely and dollhouse-ish, TRYING. SO. VERY. HARD.

I'll take some photos of this crazy project-to-be so you can get the before-and-after feel, and I really pray that you'll think it's nice, and I pray equally hard that I will, too.

(It's in a fantastic neighborhood and great school district and we got it for a song -- per month -- and it is NOT an apartment and there's a yard in back and they allow pets so we were able to acquire a puppy AND a kitten because we're desperately mad, and I feel very fortunate to have this chance to reboot our financial lives, so please don't think I'm not seeing the silver lining.  I am.  I just want to see it with a bit of freshening on its face, and I'm having a tough time visualizing the whole thing.

Did I mention the house is less than 900 square feet?  And we currently live in a 2500 square-foot house?  *tears silently at hair*)

Towels are so Square

As I mentioned the other day at my own blog, all my child-related doing and re-doing has me wanting to do something that stays done. And, ta da! I acted on this urge by sewing a bunch of hand-drying squares

Ada's school, like most places that deal with children, is concerned about germs. Ada often talks about how this or that "spreads germs" (though I have noticed this doesn't worry her when she wants a lick of my ice cream cone). The school is a typically Portland eco-friendly, so rather than replace a single cloth towel with lots of paper towels, the school bathroom features a basket of cotton squares on the counter. The kids wash their hands, then grab one or two squares to dry themselves.

Recovering from a cold as I am, the squares got me thinking. I realized that once we get into helping  Ian and Mira routinely wash their hands, we will have five people drying their hands on the same towel. Most of the time this is okay, but as I have direct experience with the lackadaisical hand-washing effort of the average child I thought it might be a good idea to give everyone their own squares. This will help avoid a germy towel spreading colds from one person to another in our house.

I have a ton of cloth scraps left over from various projects, several of which I grabbed for this effort. I looked briefly for a tutorial before realizing making these squares is so straightforward that instructions were probably unnecessary. Just in case you are interested in making this and are a novice sewer, here is what I did:

1. I wanted large-ish squares, so I cut out rectangles that were 7 by 14 inches. This gave me a half inch seam on three sides (so I would have a 6x6.5 "square" when I was done). I could have measured 7 by 13, but I am lazy and it was easiest to have the long side be double the short one.
2. I folded the cut rectangle in half with the outsides touching. I then ironed the squares (okay, most of them) because the fabric had gotten wrinkly sitting in my fabric stash.
3. Next I sewed along the three open sides, but left a gap on the third side so that I could turn the squares right side out. I even clipped the corners so that they would lay flat, although this is a little fussy for something that is for hand-drying. (Stephanie would be proud of me, I am sure.)
4. Finally I sewed a zig-zag stitch around the whole square. This closes the hole left in the previous step and makes the little squares look so snazzy. Using contrasting thread is nice. I used orange for some of these, and a yellow that is a minor color in the cloth once the orange ran out.

Oh yeah. I cross-posted this over at my blog. And really, are you going to criticize a woman with 10 month old twins for taking it a little easy? Shame on you!

Posted by Nora

Indian Cooking and Self-Defense

My favorite Indian cookbook begins, "This book has been written as a gradual maneuver in self-defense."

It's a vintage First Edition copy of Madhur Jaffrey's An Invitation to Indian Cooking, printed in 1973, at which time it retailed for $7.95. I bought my copy for a dollar at a used book sale.

A Ring-A-Ding-Ding

A fabulous place to visit for design inspiration, if you love the well-worn.

Christmas Stocking Project - 2009/2010

When I decided to make a stocking for Jack in early December, I had the funniest feeling I wouldn't proceed to the production mode of said item 'til much nearer the big event than was comfortable, exactly.  And, hey!  I was right.  So I didn't finish it.  It only had the "J" sewn on when it was hung in place.  Luckily, Santa wore his smartie pants and figured just whose stocking belonged to the four year old in the house.  ( PHEW.)

The stocking body is a very nice, heavy wool that I hope will last a long time.  Okay, forever.  I don't plan on repeating this process once it's finally finished (one only hopes the "finished" will be prior to December of 2010 -- I have yet, if you'll notice, to attach the last two letters.  Hey.  It's slow going.  Hand stitches take time.  And beer).  I used a couple of kinds of stitching when piecing the two sides of the sock together so as to prevent unravel, as the wool is that kinda textile.  The upper portion is a nice, soft, tweedy wool that contrasts nicely.  I liked it enough to use for the body of Rudolph, the homespun Reindeer.  Caleb (Jack's dad/my partner) drew the design because I'm a chump when it comes to using a pen for anything other than writing incomprehensible scrawl and lists.  There was a nice, sparkly black rhinestone in place for the eye that fell off immediately after the glue hardened, but that's what you get for waiting until Christmas Eve at 5 p.m. to finish your kid's stocking, and using whatever ancient tube of superglue you find lying around in some drawer.  (Yes.  I'm aware it wasn't technically finished, rhinestone eyeball or no.  Shaddup.)  I like the little fifties-era spangly things; makes the whole project sorta modern, but also kind of a throw-back.  My favorite combination.

Scrappy Hats

You know how, when you knit, there's always yarn left over? Always? And how you just can't help yourself but you must keep it? 

There are drawers full of yarn at my mother's house. Oh, there are whole skeins with their tags still on, and a bag of baby weight mustard yellow cashmere tidily unraveled from a failed sweater, but mostly there are scraps. A yard here, a ball there, pretty soon you're talking YARN. 

I'm a terrible knitter, but I kind of like the idea of it, and it's something portable to do on the train when I'd rather listen to music than read. I keep thinking I'm going to make a sweater one day, but instead, I make baby hats. Sometimes I make them with a specific baby in mind, and sometimes I mail them off to the local hospital's NICU. 

So what I've been doing is working my way through the scrap yarn in the big workroom at my mother's. I gather up enough bits in complementary colors, cast on 60 stitches, and just start mindlessly knitting. When it looks right, I start decreasing. Bang zoom, a little roll brim hat.  I change color with abandon, I usually tie the ends together (the horror!), and I sometimes mix wool and acrylic and cotton. Often, I'll use a bit or a lot of something whose provenance I know - like the pictured hat: the pale blue cotton was leftover yarn from a hat that I made for my mother. 

There's something completely satisfying about a little hat made from nothing. 

Posted by Magpie

Photo by Niobe

Little Felted Ponchos

The felting bug bit me hard last Christmas. Then, some months ago, I'd seen a poncho for sale on the website of an Atlanta based craft cooperative, and I said "I can do that". I felted a couple of shetland wool sweaters, cut them out freehand, blanket-stitched the edges, and added some appliques made from scrap felted wool (from last year's projects).

Here's one of the sweaters, showing how it was cut. I also cut the neckhole just along the transition to the collar ribbing, though if it had been a v-neck sweater, that would have been completely unnecessary. The V at the bottom starts just above the ribbing along the lower edge of the sweater, and the indent under the arms is at the point where the sleeve meets the body.

The blue sweater had been a cable-knit, but once it was felted, I decided I liked the inside better - it had a more interesting appearance. The points of the star are plain pearly shirt buttons, and both ponchos are blanket-stitched along the edge with black wool. My daughter got the one with the star, and her cousin got the one with the heart.

Funnily enough, that same Atlanta craft cooperative has just opened a shop in the next town over from us. I went in there before Christmas and found a rack of the ponchos, and felt oh so smug for having made my own.

Posted by Magpie

Why I should not be trusted to complete projects

(or - How NOT to Make a Duvet Cover: A Tutorial and Cautionary Tale)

Nora, crossposted from Nonlinear Girl.

(1) When your sister suggests that as a joint birthday gift for herself and her husband, agree readily. Assure your sister that it will be no problem, just a few straight seams, easy really.

(2) Work out a deal with your mother in which you will do the labor and she will pay for the fabric, allowing you both to give your sister and her husband a gift in a nice Marxist way (each according her her ability...)

(3) Send your sister some fabric web sites. Suggest that she and her husband pick out a fabric. Make a few suggestions of your own.

(4) Receive email from your sister with several options, including a lovely but obscenely expensive Marimekko print and a much less expensive Moda fabric. Discuss and agree up the idea of incorporating your sister and brother-in-law's chuppah in the design.

(5) Engage in several more rounds of fabric discussion, finally settling on the Moda print. Fail to consider that, as this is a Moda print, it will go out of stock quickly and not be re-produced by the manufacturer. Allow months to go by while you are busy at the beach, with friends, and in the garden.

(6) Finally get around to purchasing the fabric, only to realize that it is out of stock at your local mega fabric store and at most online shops. Find one online shop that carries it, and order 7 yards.

(7) Wait another month and then purchase two 600 thread count sheet, one to go under the delicate chuppah fabric, the other for the bottom of the comforter cover, to accommodate your brother-in-law's preference for a very soft comforter. Feel glad that the sheet is on sale. Feel even gladder that you have been carting around that 15% off coupon in your wallet for 3 months.

(8) Get the sheets home and realize that the white chuppah will look horrible with the main fabric's purple and cream print and the dark cream sheet. Decide not to use the chuppah. Return the second sheet.

(9) Call the online fabric merchant and experience the most amazing customer service. (Although the seller did not have any more of the pattern, the owner of this one woman shop called Moda to see if they still make the print. When she called me back to say that Moda doesn't make this print any more, she suggested I check several of her competitors' web sites to see if they might have any. She even suggested specific competitor sites that were likely to have it.)

(10) Take the nice quilt lady's advice and find another vendor that carries the fabric. Order 3 more yards.

(11) Once the fabric arrives, wash the sheet and all 10 yards of the purchased fabric Press all 10 yards. Press the sheet, cursing the whole time.

(12) Wait another few weeks while you nightly feel crappy and first-trimester nauseous.

(13) Finally get off your butt and start calculating measurements. Recalculate all measurements after talking to husband about said calculations. Re-recalculate, and then go to bed.

(14) Months after you agreed to start the project, start sewing. Quickly realize that the hard part of the project is handling 94 inch long pieces of fabric. 

(15) Sew all four pieces of the comforter top together, and fiddle around while deciding how best to attach the back.

(16) Sew the front piece to the sheet and realize you have slightly miscalculated the measurements. Decide to ignore the problem, figuring most of the error will be hidden by the seams.

(17) Practice making button holes. Panic that they will look crappy.

(18) Measure fabric and decide how many buttons you need to keep the comforter from poking out of the cover.

(19) Go to the crazy button store and spend way too much time picking out buttons that will match the fabric and are sturdy enough to survive the washer and drier without breaking. Cleverly purchase two more buttons than you plan to use, just in case.

(20) Get over panic and start sewing button holes. Decide that although they look a little wonky, no one will really notice because the buttons will cover the holes.

(21) Realize that your want four more buttons than you originally thought you wanted. Return to the crazy button store for two more buttons.

Note chalk marks, which I carefully rubbed off before finishing the cover.

(22) Hand sew buttons all evening in order to be sure the project will be done in time to mail it on Monday before you leave town for Thanksgiving.

(23) Iron the entire duvet cover so it will look nice. Ignore nagging voice telling you that once you fold it to put it in the box it will get all wrinkly again.

(24) Carefully insert folded duvet cover into a plastic bag, then put the bag and a note into the mailing box. Address the box at the post office. Call your sister to confirm zip code. Wake up said sister in the process.

(25) Fail to confirm street address with sleepy sister, and incorrectly address box.

(26) Buy delivery confirmation and insurance for package which you have just mis-addressed.  Mail package.

(27) Wait 4 days.

(28) Call sister and ask if she has gotten your package. When she says she has not, consider what could have gone wrong. Realize you have mis-addressed package.

(29) Dream about the package on two consecutive nights.

(30) Nine days after you mail the ill-fated package, talk to your local postal worker, who cheerfully tries to convince you that it will all work out all right - either your sister's postal worker will figure out the problem and get the package to her anyway, or it will be returned to you after what he figures should be a few days. Feel impressed by the extent to which your mail carrier takes pride in his work.

(31) Two days later, still see no evidence of the package and hear nothing from your sister that suggests she's gotten it.

(32) Sigh heavily. Regret that you did not take more pictures of the duvet cover. Realize the amount of insurance purchased will not cover the cost of materials, much less the time the project took. Sigh again.

(33) Twelve days after you mailed the package, return to the house to find it on the front porch. Do a quick happy dance and drag the box inside. Open the box, add a second item to make up for the tardiness, reseal and re-label with the correct address. Slather with tape.

(34) Rush to the post office to mail the package.  Wait for your sister to call and tell you she's received the package and that the duvet cover is the best one you'd ever made. Fire up the computer to write a tutorial.

Repurposed > Hats & Blankets

So last weekend, while I was at my mother's house and casting about for things with which to occupy myself, I found myself raiding a drawer of tee-shirts to turn them into hats for babies in Haiti. I swear, there must be two hundred tee-shirts in her house - but that I had the time to cut and sew more.

Two tee-shirts, a red one and a yellow one, became four little baby hats - one yellow, one red, and two half and half. But then, the remaining pieces of the shirts cried out to me, "you can't throw us out!", so with a rolling cutter (a genius device if ever there were one), I cut out a mess of 5" squares, sewed them together, backed it with a piece of a flannel sheet, and tied it with red embroidery thread. Ta da!

You may notice that there's some blue & white striped fabric in that there quilt, but no matching hats. Well, that's because the first two hats I tried, using a blue & white polo shirt, were a complete disaster because I failed the cardinal rule of sewing: I sewed the right side to the wrong side. And since it's a jersey knit, it was just impossible to rip the seam so I gave up.

Today, the hats and quilt are going in the mail to Maine, and from there they'll be packed up to be sent to Haiti, to be included in Safe Birthing Kits. These kits - consisting of plastic sheeting, hand sanitizer, a sterile piece of string and razor blade, and these newborn baby caps - have the potential to reduce infant and maternal mortality, and give babies a safer, healthier start.

There is something inordinately gratifying about repurposing a tee-shirt to help make the world a slightly better place.

Posted by Magpie

Repurposing

So, Debbie emailed me and twisted my arm to get me to join this here marauding band of vintage avengers.  And really, how could I say no?  Because I've developed something of an obsession with turning cast-offs into something new.

Last year for Christmas, most of the females in my nearest/dearest circle got bags made of old sweaters.  Felted, cut, sewn, buttons added, straps affixed, bingo!  I had an enormous amount of fun finding the sweaters, figuring out the felting, and listening to the bags as they strove to emerge from the thrift shop sweaters turned into gnarled and matted shades of their former selves.  Yeah, the cellar was full of lint when I was done, but the tactile wonders of the felt are incomparable.  You want to try it?  You can find some instructions here.

I have plans for more felted goodness this year, and in fact, I am drooling over every last thing in this Threadbanger post. 

But I've also been dabbling in repurposing tee-shirts - turning them into baby hats and baby blankets. 

The other day, I was knee-deep in tee-shirt squares and engrossed with the sewing machine. My six-year-old niece was beside me, hovering and fussing about with spools and ribbon and yarn.  She got hot and took off her sweater, and said to me, pointedly, "that's my sweater, don't cut it up".

People, don't let me near your tee-shirts and sweaters.

Posted by Magpie