Crazy Cat Lady

Tonight will be an exciting night, because I'll take out the car and drive to buy a cat toy on sale! While wearing a muumuu! I'll be doing this fifty years from now, too!

But look what BigLots had in its ad--Toby needs one:

And I'm not even thirty yet. Just think how bad it's going to get...

Happy Birthday, Maria Mozart; Sorry We Insisted You Get Married

The Writer's Almanac, my new favorite source of blog material, tells us that today is the birthday of Maria Anna "Nannerl" Mozart in 1751, Wolfgang's older sister. She was a child prodigy on the harpsichord and clavier and when she and her brother toured together as children, she often received top billing. She composed, too--Wikipedia tells us "there are letters from her brother praising her work"--but nothing she wrote survives. After she reached her teens, her parents didn't allow her to tour, she stopped performing and probably composing, and she ended up getting married, raising a family, and giving piano lessons.

The whole story reminds me of Virginia Woolf's idea of "Shakespeare's sister" in A Room of One's Own--that even if Shakespeare had had a sister just as talented, she could have done nothing to develop it in the 16th century (or the 18th, apparently), because "she would have been so thwarted and hindered by other people [and] tortured and pulled asunder by her own contrary instincts." (The whole chapter is here.)
I certainly don't have the feminist or musical insight any more to make a point other than, "What a shame," but at least we're remembering her birthday.

Tuesday Project Roundup: Big Enough For A Sixpack And A Sock Monkey

I decided to revisit the cotton knitted bag pattern that turned out too small to hold anything except a tomato, and the result is I overcompensated, ran out of yarn, used up some odds and ends to finish, and ended up with a bag that's big enough for a watermelon and looks like a sock monkey*:

The bag stretches a lot; it could probably hold TWO watermelons. But it's useful and it's finished. I'm so tired of knitting with cotton, though--it's time to break out wool and start planning fall projects.

*Monsieur Le Singe, Guiseppi Tomasi, was something I made in high school. Because I was cool like that in high school.

It's Monday

Attack it like it's a bike pedal:


Or just lay on it and impede progress:

Friday Unrelated Information

1. Werner Herzog, the crazy German filmmaker I studied in a college film class, has made a film about McMurdo station in Antarctica. My uncle is returning for another six months in McMurdo in August, so it would be cool to see what a crazy German filmmaker has to say about it in Encounters at the End of the World. The Salt Lake Tribune review can be read here.

2. My latest favorite TV-on-DVD show is Mad Men, which has yet to make me feel angry or used the way Battlestar Galactic did. I started watching it for the costumes and to see how it compared with agency life today, and now I can't get enough. Season 2 starts Sunday.

3. I somehow ended up reading about what you should have in a chicken first aid kit and a story about raccoons trying to kidnap Tickle Me Elmo online this week. I love the internet!
In the middle of one night we were awakened to the sound of Tickle Me Elmo laughing his little head off. Upon investigating we found Elmo stuck in the cat door unable to stop laughing and vibrating. The raccoons had abandoned him when they couldn’t squeeze him through the door.

Why Is Today Special?

Because it’s the birthday of Amelia Earhart and Zelda Fitzgerald and my friend Tiffin. It’s also a day after the birthday of Raymond Chandler, the best detective novelist ever, and a day after the birth of a yet-to-be-named cria at Blue Moon Ranch (I’d call him Nero):

It was also pretty special to go four blocks out of my way on my ride in this morning to avoid the crowds of pioneers.

The Garden

I've finally stopped complaining how far behind and puny my garden is, because you can't really do that if the tomato plants are as tall as you. The ripening is still a little behind schedule, but at least the plants look healthy, if not completely out of control.

I planted mostly tomatoes:


And some zucchini, because about 85% of vegetarian recipes involve zucchini.
I have a feeling I will regret the zucchini in a month, but right now I'm still excited.

Tuesday Project Roundup: It's A Skirt AND A Picnic Blanket

I think you can see why:

Details: Vintage 70's pattern, plaid from JoAnn, very large useful pockets, doubles as a picnic blanket/tablecloth when seated.

Dear Emmylou Harris

You are awesome and I’m sorry I didn’t realize it until the concert last night. I knew you sang backup for some good Neil Young albums and I remember seeing you in Heart of Gold recently and thinking, “Whoa, plastic surgery!” But I really didn’t know what you sounded like on your own, and I have been missing out. I’m going to go find “Orphan Girl” on iTunes now.

Also, your dress and boots were great.

Best,
Karen

PS: I really shouldn’t have taken your advice from the encore: “Two More Bottles of Wine.”

Friday Unrelated Information

1. Wednesday I made my best riding time to and from work so far: 12 minutes to get there and only 20 minutes to get home. Now I'm pretending I'm competing for the maillot vert!

2. Wednesday also marked the 63rd anniverasary of the first nuclear bomb test in Los Alamos. I've known that Oppenheimer said, famously, "I am become Death, destroyer of worlds" but I didn't know that he was quoting from the Baghavad Gita:
"If the radiance of a thousand suns were to burst at once into the sky, that would be like the splendor of the mighty one. Now I am become Death, destroyer of worlds."

Something else I didn't know: That Kenneth Bainbridge, the site director of the test, retorted, "Now we are all sons-of-bitches."

Indeed.

That's A Nice Farm You Got There, Little Lady

So the NY Times has a feature about women farmers up online. I read it because I, too, am a woman. And I like farms. (And because it's been slow at work this week. I've been reading anything.)

The article...left something to be desired. Do you think a journalist would use the following sentence when talking about a male farmer? "[She] flits effortlessly between trimming vines and fixing the tractor, a farmer at heart." Um, wouldn't the fact that she's trimming vines and FIXING A TRACTOR make her a farmer in actual PRACTICE, too? Seriously, "flits"? Come on.

And get this sentence from the intro:
"Whether raising heritage livestock, combing the woods for exotic morsels or coaxing delicacies from the ground, these women forge new bonds between field and table, strengthening the connection between things we love to eat and the stewardship that makes them possible."
Awww, who knew farming was so nurturing? And did you know WOMEN are good at NURTURING and these are LADY FARMERS we're talking about? God.

I would expect this from, well, a women's magazine (with a little sidebar about "Get The Farming Look!" telling us to buy an Hermes headscarf); but not from a newspaper. Farming is hard work. I bet any of these little ladies could have told the reporter that.

Toby Up Your Wednesday

His current nicknames include Tobrito (rhymes with "taquito"), Tobot, and Babypants.


(Be sure to click and enlarge this one so you can get the full effect of Toby lips.)

Tuesday Project Roundup: Tinged With Nostalgia (Or Disney)

Here's another gingham dress from a 1970's pattern:

And here's a better representation of the color:

The yellow and the vintage styling remind me of the look of the film The Virgin Suicides:

On the other hand, Mr. Isbell saw it during construction and blurted out, "That looks like what a Disney princess would wear before she knew she was a princess!"

He meant it as a compliment, of course, and maybe it's the same thing--just give me a grassy field and a daisy to pick.

Happy Bastille Day

While this may just be the day before payday to most Americans, it's Bastille Day and France is partying like it's 1789. (Sorry.) Here's some etymology for you (Don't be too impressed with my French; I had to look it up):

• Bastille is an alternate spelling of bastide: fortification.
• Bastide comes from the Provençal word bastida: built.
• There is also a verb embastiller: to establish troops in a prison.

Friday Unrelated Information

1. I meant to mention this last week, but the Tour de France has started. I've caught some coverage every year since Indurain won his final tour, but none yet for this year. I'll have to catch up on Sunday; in the meantime, I'll pretend I'm winning the polka dot jersey when I ride up the hill from work.

2. Toby was "talking" (prrrit! prrow! mrrrow?) to something last night at midnight, and since he's usually very quiet at night (until 5:00 a.m., that is), I got up to investigate. He was in his veranda and outside a little black cat with round eyes and a collar was visiting--it was Jenny Linsky!

Film And Television

Film: If you haven't seen WALL-E, go tonight. Please make sure the person at Pixar who put his job on the line to make such a dystopian, moving, adult film doesn't lose it because the film tanks after the first few weekends. I still don't know how they managed to get it released; it's that good.

TV: I think I'm the only person here watching the new Battlestar Galactica, but if you're tempted to start, just stop after season 2. We finished season 3 this week and all I can say is: A bad cover of All Along the Watchtower shouldn't happen in space. That was really the final straw.

I Wouldn't Be A Bit Surprised If We All Break Into Song Next

I've now made my biking debut at the farmers' market and at work, and let me just quote my dad--"Life's better on a bike."

I rode down to the market on Saturday and the comments started right away: "Nice bike!" and "Where'd you get that helmet?" from the bike valet dude; "Love your bike!" and "Sweet ride!" from passersby; and "Good morning, beautiful! Nice bike!" as I rode by a homeless guy camped on the steps of the Greek Orthodox church.

Similar things happened at work--people I hadn't talked to in nearly two years at the office admired, offered help with the elevator, liked my helmet. I was riding up Main Street on the way home and a panhandler asked, "Got a dollar?" and when I said no (I really didn't), said "I like your helmet!"

So on the next ride, what will happen? Will it be like a musical, with song and dance and synchronized pigeon flights? It may very well be--because life apparently IS better on a bike.

Tuesday Project Roundup: Cool

I had enough vintage fabric to make a dress AND something to lounge around the house in (although I'm thinking pants will get more use than a robe), so over the weekend I made the dress:

Now I'll get my matching shoes and handbag and go to a pool party, where I will drink a Tom Collins...Wait, no I won't. The dress just makes me feel like I could.

(And because I don't want to keep you in suspense about the sweater, I finished it and did not run out of yarn. I left it at work, though, so no picture. Just imagine something beige and a little lumpy-looking.)

It's Monday

Attack it like it's a couch.


Or a bar stool.

Thursday Unrelated Information

I'm ready for a three-day weekend and doubt anyone will be at a computer tomorrow, so today is the end of the blog week.

1. Yesterday was the anniversary of poor Hemingway shooting himself in Ketchum. The Writer's Almanac (which I just discovered) had a bit on yesterday's page about what may have motivated him--constant pain from a plane crash and elecrtroshock therapy, to name a couple. I just read a Ray Bradbury story about Hemingway getting to go back in time to "re-do" his death: "The Kilimanjaro Device," excerpted here.

2. Celebrate the Fourth of July with a poem by Stephen Vincent Benet, "American Names". It begins well, gets a little lost, and ends with a quote that inspired a book title. Here's the beginning:

I have fallen in love with American names,
The sharp names that never get fat,
The snakeskin-titles of mining-claims,
The plumed war-bonnet of Medicine Hat,
Tucson and Deadwood and Lost Mule Flat.

3. Or you can celebrate by watching Yankee Doodle Dandy this weekend. Remember, "My mother thanks you, my father thanks you, my sister thanks you, and I thank you."

Come On, Weekend

"What summer proposes is simply happiness:
heat early in the morning, jays
raucous in the pines."

...and bike rides to the farmers market, and a pool party, and time to nap, and time to work on a summer dress and summer lounge pants, and no writing deadlines. Hurry up, Friday!

(The quote is the opening of "Tahoe In August" by Robert Hass; complete text is here on someone's blog.)

Tuesday Project Roundup: Back In The Saddle Again

I was wondering last week why I felt so thwarted (creatively speaking) and realized I haven't finished any new sewing projects in a month. (The denim dress I was working on the last few weeks did not work. Goodbye, denim dress.) I also realized I hadn't had a day off just to be home and sew in a month, so I took Friday off to pick up the bike and make a dress.This reminds me of cowboys, for no particular reason. Maybe it's the topstitching, which is getting lost in the print but can be seen if you click on the picture below.

On a roll from the Friday/Saturday dressmaking (that worked! and was cute!) I made some placemats on Sunday from oilcloth:

They're reversible, although my camera didn't like taking pictures of all that blue and tried to make it pink:

So a good weekend. I can wear my cowboy dress and serve huevos rancheros on my placemats and sing Gene Autry songs.