I'm taking the day off tomorrow to have the new bed delivered and I'm feeling out of ideas, so this will be the end of the blogging week for me.
1. Today is the birthday of both Emily Bronte (Wuthering Heights, not Jane Eyre) and Henry Ford.
2. The Big Picture blog featured photos of the Tour de France last week. Check out photo 28 of Mark Cavendish's bike's paint job.
3. AMC has a cool new promo site for Mad Men: MadMenYourself.com. You can build a character of yourself into the show. This is me (with the coffee cup, for those of you who aren't watching yet) (and why aren't you watching yet?):
It's like this at my house, but usually I end up getting the bug for Toby before he can lay waste to everything. (All of these "Simon's Cat" videos are great.)
Did any of us think this day would come? I have a finished quilt top and quilt back that are ready to be quilted now! No, these are not complicated quilt patterns, and they didn't involve lots of little pieces. But they did involve enough math that I didn't feel up to it a lot of the time, and I dare you to try working on a queen-size quilt in your 500-square-foot apartment. It doesn't go very well--which is why I worked on it at my parents' house, on the weekends. (I'm sure that they can't believe this is out of their basement.)
I'm going to say this is 2/3 done, provided I can find someone to machine-quilt this for me. Then I can pick it up all quilted and do the binding. It sounds so easy, right?
Of course, I feel kind of like this when I really consider how far I have to go:
I thought it would be good to check in on my list of things to do before I turn 30...it is almost August (yikes!). I think my progress is pretty good, but it's time to start cooking shellfish and buying garbage cans before it's too late.
Thing's I've done are in green; commentary is in boldface:
1. Learn the names of the Wasatch mountain peaks--I only can point to Mt. Olympus 2. Pay off the remaining debt 3. Get a queen size mattress. It's getting delivered Friday! 4. Make a queen-sized quilt Umm, closer—check for pictures this week. 5. Hike Bald Mountain in the Uintas again 6. Finish reading The Silmarillion 7. Knit Christmas stockings (starting with Toby's, of course) 8. Visit the north end of Zion National Park 9. Be less wimpy about riding my bike on cooler days. I am riding; it’s not cool, but I think I can stay in the habit through fall. 10. Eat at Red Iguana 11. Eat at The Paris. (For our second anniversary last weekend) 12. Chill a watermelon in a stream on a picnic in the mountains 13. Knit at least one thing for charity using up yarn I have 14. Get a new desk chair, if an affordable molded Eames chair exists 15. Cook moules marnieres and frites 16. Stop biting my nails.—I only bite the nails of my little fingers now! 8 out of 10 isn’t bad! 17. Learn how to sew knit fabric 18. Drink an Old Fashioned at the bar at Bambara(When I got the new job!) 19. Learn how to apply eye makeup that doesn't look scary or amateurish—I’ve been wearing it but I think it’s so subtle as to be almost unnoticeable. I’ve been given a hint about dry eyeliner and a brush, so we’ll see. 20. Go to the Oyster Bar one Monday a month after work for a half-priced appetizer—I went ONE Monday and it was just not good. I think all the full-priced dinners I can afford now can replace the Oyster Bar. 21. Replace my Rubbermaid kitchen garbage can with a broken spring top with something nicer. 22. Knit an elaborate cabled sweater 23. Build my collection of Bach CDs 24. Learn how to dance 25. Stop getting plastic bags from the grocery store—I realized I need plastic bags for cleaning the litterbox, so I don’t think I can STOP, but I have really cut back. 26. Have tea at The Grand America 27. Make cloth napkins and use them for everyday meals—I haven’t made them, but we are using cloth napkins. 28. Go out to breakfast one weekend a month—So far, so good: we missed June but we did go out twice in May. 29. Go to Moab for New Year's Eve
1. It's PionEER day (as people pronounce it here), which means an oh-the-humanity walk to work (roads are closed and people are CAMPING on the sidewalk, so the car and the bike are out).
2. Yesterday was Raymond Chandler's birthday, in 1888. I've been thinking of The Big Sleep lately, but I'm still trying to limit my re-reading and go through new books for the summer.
3. Check out photographer Jennifer Greenberg's "The Rockabillies," portraits of people who really embrace 50's style and decor. And cars: Seriously, what IS that? I thought cars like this only existed in cartoons. It's fantastic.
We just got Season 2 and are trying to not watch it all too fast. I like Don Draper even less and the costumes even more in this season. 1962 was a good time for fashion--and not the best time to be a woman in an office.
Christopher Kitten has not been adopted by us, much to Toby's relief, and he hasn't been hanging around in our yard half as much. I think the group effort at the neighbors to keep him fed and entertained is working--mostly.
Mr. Isbell did put out food for him one afternoon when he came crying to the door, and I'll pat him when I see him out in the yard, but it's nothing like the weekend he was abandoned by his awful owner. And that's a relief.
Look! It's the back of a quilt and it's all sewn together! Granted, the back of this quilt is one big square surrounded by a border, but after seven months I think I can call this progress.
Now all I have to do is sew a border on the front of the quilt and then, you know, turn it into a quilt. Five more months to go...
You're probably aware that today is the 40th anniversary of the Apollo 11 lunar landing. It was kind of a big deal, as the 96-pt type in the NY Times shows: You can read a transcript of the landing, with commentary by Armstrong, Aldrin, and other involved parties here. Personally, I like The Onion's take on the landing--but be warned; lots of swearing. Really, really funny swearing, but lots of it.
1. As I'm sure you've heard, the 40th anniversary of the Apollo 11 launch was yesterday. Check out some great images on The Big Picture blog. In #24, Neil Armstrong kind of looks like my brother.
2. Learned a new word: sciolist (SAI-uh-list), noun: "One who engages in a pretentious display of superficial knowledge." So if I said this rhymed with "nihilist," I might be a sciolist.
3. Toby is doing what I'm hoping to do this weekend (after mattress shopping and asking about professional quilting services):
From a long (and often sad) article, "Watching Whales Watching Us," in the NY Times this week (emphasis mine):
In 2006...researchers at Mount Sinai School of Medicine analyzed the brains of two other baleen species—humpback and finback whales—as well as those of a number of toothed whales like dolphins and killer and sperm whales. The study revealed brain structures surprisingly similar to our own. Some, in fact, contained large concentrations of spindle cells—often referred to as the cells that make us human because of their link to higher cognitive functions like self-awareness, a sense of compassion and linguistic expression—with the added kick that whales evolved these same highly specialized neurons as many as 15 million years before we humans did, a stunning instance of a phenomenon biologists refer to as parallel evolution.
“In spite of the relative scarcity of information on many cetacean species,” the Mount Sinai scientists concluded in a report in the November 2006 edition of the journal The Anatomical Record, “it is important to note in this context that sperm whales, killer whales and certainly humpback whales exhibit complex social patterns that include intricate communication skills, coalition formation, cooperation, cultural transmission and tool usage.” They added that it is therefore “likely that some of these abilities” are related to the comparable complexity in the brain structures of whales and hominids.
Ahoy! I'd been looking for a sailor-collar dress pattern since last summer--one that's not too costume-y, not too cutes-y--and when I saw this one a few months ago I said, "Avast! This be the one." I used some really nice gray stripe seersucker, the kind they make suits out of in the South, and it turned out OK despite some real struggles with the fit (my own fault--"measure twice, cut once," anyone?). I haven't worn it yet; I'm waiting for the day when I feel jaunty and nautical and I'll wear it and shout "Belay me!" and "Hoist the rigging!"
So the neighbor kitten that's getting left out all night was left out all day AND all night, all weekend. It discovered Toby's veranda Saturday morning: Saturday night he sat on top of the veranda (with Toby in the veranda), looking in as we watched a movie.
This is kind of an impossible situation: Toby does not immediately try to attack the kitten, but 1.) we don't have room for two cats in the apartment and 2.) Toby can't have a cat roommate that goes in and out while he remains an inside-only cat. Also, Christopher Kitten* is scaring away all the quail and quail chicks.
Some of my neighbors were outside last night and I geared up for a lecture about responsible pet ownership, but it turned out they were the housemates of the girl who "owns" the kitten, not the girl herself. The housemates said that they'd been watching out for Christopher Kitten, too, because owner-girl doesn't let him in a lot because he's "too frisky" (!) and sometimes forgets to feed him (!!). What a despicable woman.
So...what happens now? I guess I could be justified in calling CAWS and getting Christopher Kitten fostered, since he does seem to be neglected by his owner. It also sounded like the housemates were looking for a new place to rent and wanted to take Christopher with them, but I don't know if I can count on them. Does any blog reader out there want a kitten?
1. Happy birthday, Marcel Proust, born in 1871 today.
2. Complaining about mosquito bites on my face yesterday reminded me of Little House on the Prairie, in which the entire family ends up getting malaria* one summer: In the daytime there were only one or two mosquitoes in the house. But at night, if the wind wasn't blowing hard, mosquitoes came in thick swarms...Pa could not play the fiddle at night because so many mosquitoes bit him...And in the morning Laura's forehead was speckled with mosquito bites.
That's actually a pretty terrible chapter, with the whole family sick and Pa passed out on the floor and Jack the bulldog upset and unable to help. Just another reason to be thankful for tonic water and DEET.
3. *In the book, Laura calls it "fever 'n ague." I'll probably never hear that second word used in conversation in my life.
As I said yesterday, I feel as if summer is passing me by. That might be due to the fact that I'm not spending a lot of time on the patio in the evenings, and here's why:
1. Mosquitoes. They are the devil. They are bad this year, after all that rain. I was outside for about half an hour last night and got three bites. Currently, I have three bites just on my FACE. Mosquito fail.
2. The neighbor's kitten. This kitten is not the devil; it's the cutest roly-poly tabby who purrs furiously when you pick it up. But the neighbor girl who "owns" it leaves it out at night, starting at about 6:00, and it's either crying at their door, wanting to play with us, or crying at OUR door. Toby does not like this one bit, and neither do I: Who leaves their tiny kitten outside all night without a bed to sleep on*? At least it has food and water, but still--cat ownership FAIL.
*I am debating taking the final step towards totally becoming my mother (who always has sheltered strays) and getting that kitten a little cat house with a bed in it. I doubt the neighbor is going to let it sleep inside; we can't steal it to live with us; and I don't think we can say it's a stray and call a rescue shelter. But I can at least make sure it has somewhere to sleep that's not on a concrete patio or in the grass.
I certainly feel as if I'm missing out on everything, and I'm not sure why...maybe because I don't know where June went nor what I did in it? Because I missed the moonflower blooming two nights ago? Because I haven't been to the farmer's market yet? Who knows. At least we have a poem about summer:
Although I watched and waited for it every day, somehow I missed it, the moment when everything reached the peak of ripeness. It wasn't at the solstice; that was only the time of the longest light. It was sometime after that, when the plants had absorbed all that sun, had taken it into themselves for food and swelled to the height of fullness. It was in July, in a dizzy blaze of heat and fog, when on some nights it was too hot to sleep, and the restaurants set half their tables on the sidewalks; outside the city, down the coast, the Milky Way floated overhead, and shooting stars fell from the sky over the ocean. One day the garden was almost overwhelmed with fruition: My sweet peas struggled out of the raised bed onto the mulch of laurel leaves and bark and pods, their brilliantly colored sunbonnets of rose and stippled pink, magenta and deep purple pouring out a perfume that was almost oriental. Black-eyed Susans stared from the flower borders, the orange cherry tomatoes were sweet as candy, the corn fattened in its swaths of silk, hummingbirds spiraled by in pairs, the bees gave up and decided to live in the lavender. At the market, surrounded by black plums and rosy plums and sugar prunes and white-fleshed peaches and nectarines, perfumey melons and mangos, purple figs in green plastic baskets, clusters of tiny Champagne grapes and piles of red-black cherries and apricots freckled and streaked with rose, I felt tears come into my eyes, absurdly, because I knew that summer had peaked and was already passing away. I felt very close then to understanding the mystery; it seemed to me that I almost knew what it meant to be alive, as if my life had swelled to some high moment of response, as if I could reach out and touch the season, as if I were inside its body, surrounded by sweet pulp and juice, shimmering veins and ripened skin.
What am I doing sewing tops when I'm "just happier in a dress?" Well, I've been wearing skirts, too, and those need something to round them out. I found a new Simplicity designer pattern that only takes 1 to 1 1/4 yards, so I've been using nice shirting fabrics without guilt.
Here's the pattern:
Here's my first version: (Here's a better picture of the fabric.)
And here's the fabric for a second version, without the neckline trim. This fabric is really nice (Liberty of London), but again, it only uses one yard. And it's not $98 like this ready-made one. And it comes together in about two hours.
"It was on this day in 1812 that Ludwig van Beethoven wrote two famous love letters to an unknown woman. Beethoven wrote the letters from the Czech resort town of Teplitz, which his physician had recommended for his health, and there he became friends with the poet Goethe. And over the course of two days, he wrote three letters to a mysterious woman who has come to be known as "the Immortal Beloved."
Today's Almanac post also includes the full text of all three letters, the last one of which is so sad:
Oh God, why must one be parted from one whom one so loves. And yet my life in V is now a wretched life — Your love makes me at once the happiest and the unhappiest of men — At my age I need a steady, quiet life — can that be so in our connection? Be calm — love me — today — yesterday — what tearful longings for you — you — you — my life — my all — farewell. Oh continue to love me — never misjudge the most faithful heart of your beloved. ever thine ever mine ever ours
He was already mostly deaf at this point. Poor Beethoven.
1. I was in a month-long cooking rut in June, where just the thought of coming up with something for dinner made me want to tear my hair out. Usually the ruts don't last more than a week--they can't; I'm the cook in the house--so fortunately M.F.K. Fisher has saved us from more takeout and frozen things: I found a new book of her collected short fiction at the library. Last night, we had souffles.
2. I have today off for the Fourth so we're going to go to Lagoon. I haven't been there since I was twelve. This will either be really fun or a huge mistake, like going miniature golfing in my early twenties and being the only one there who could drive.
I'm making myself read new books this summer, not just re-reading The Hobbit and Dune and other things on my shelf. I started with Crossing to Safety, in which I noticed uncomfortable similarities between the bossy wife and myself, and found this quote. [Set up: It's about two couples. One of the couples is rich and has this fancy old touring car, a Marmon.]:
Looking in under the propped hood, I could see that the engine was not twelve in line, as I had always half believed, but a V-16. It would have pulled a fire truck. At every stroke a stream of gasoline as thick as my finger must be pulsing through the carburetor. She panted at us in the whiskey-and-emphysema whisper of an Edith Wharton dowager. "Dollar-dollar-dollar-dollar-dollar," the Marmon said.
That quote is probably the funniest part of the book, which deals with polio, thwarted ambition, stomach cancer, etc., but I do recommend it. I think it's something I'll have to revisit in the future. Because re-reading is really where it's at.
So Mr. Isbell's parents became chicken owners this spring, and the chickens are now big enough to wander their back garden freely. This is all kinds of cute: They're really soft--even their feet--and have so much personality. They take sun baths and stick their leg out like Toby! Obviously, I do not eat chicken. I do eat eggs, but I make sure they're at least cage free, if not Certified Humane. (I'm really looking forward to eggs from these girls!) But after seeing these chickens up close, I'm now hyper-aware of the eggs from unhappy factory farmed chickens used in things like mayonnaise and ice cream. So Mr. Isbell and I are exploring the strange new world of Vegannaise and Soy Dream.
It's a good thing his parents don't have a pet cow: I'd never buy shoes again.
