Tuesday Project Roundup: And Now It's Fall

Hooray for long weekends and patterns you've made before! Here's a skirt and a blouse that I'm calling the first of the fall sewing. (What makes these floral prints more autumnal than any other prints that I've used? Um, they have red in them.)

I used the same pattern for this skirt as I did for the green dot one back in the spring, and the fabric was also from Yellow Bird Fabrics. Easy, unlined, stretchy, and fast.


And here's another button-back blouse, using some of the fancy international Liberty of London fabric. This time, I drafted a Peter Pan collar for it. I think I have this pattern out of my system now.

8 - 8 - 8

Eight hours labor, eight hours recreation, eight hours rest. Happy Labor Day! What's on your agenda for recreation today?

Friday Unrelated Information

1. Yesterday I entered the bias-sleeve blouse and the ORLY? owl sweater in the state fair. It was a craft explosion in the Home Arts Building.

2. I found more Mystery Science Theater to watch on Google Video. Pumaman made a joke about fabric that was followed by a joke about Carl Sagan. I love that show.

3. More house viewing is scheduled for today--a bungalow and a townhouse. The townhouse kind of feels like a cop-out, and I would have to have a container garden. But it has a powder room!

It's What Happens When You Have To Bounce Your Ideas Off Your Cat

My post yesterday reminded me of a quote from 30 Rock:

Liz: "How come men can be heavy and be respected, like James Gandolfini or Fat Albert? It's a double standard, and America needs to get over its body image madness."

Jack: "Oh, come on. What are we, back in college, freshman year? Let's go to the common room and talk about apartheid."

Let's Talk About The Art Of Manliness

Recently I found a site called The Art of Manliness. (I feel as surreptitious reading this site as I did reading wedding blogs back in the day--except I think reading this is healthier.) It has an awesome name going for it and it has nearly 72,000 followers on Facebook. It is, indeed, all about manliness.

I like how the author defines "manliness" here, equating it with virtue (although the site is also full of tutorials on such topics as how to escape a riptide), and I like that the site encourages dressing appropriately, cleaning one's car for a date, and generally being capable and decent.

But for all the virtue, it still seems mired in traditional gender roles, which I'm guilty of, too: Is my thinking a man should know things about cars and home repair and riptides any different from a man thinking I should know things about baking and mending and grocery shopping? Are we still mired in gender roles because men and women are fundamentally different, so there will always be "manliness" and "womanliness" instead of "humanness"?

It all reminds me of a quote from To The Lighthouse, where everyone is at dinner and the young male student is insecure and wants to join the conversation and the single lady painter notices:

There is a code of behaviour she knew, whose seventh article (it may be) says that on occasions of this sort it behoves the woman, whatever her occupation may be, to go to the help of the young man opposite so that he may...relieve...his vanity, his urgent desire to assert himself; as indeed it is their duty, she reflected, in her old maidenly fairness, to help us, suppose the Tube were to burst into flames. Then, she thought, I should certainly expect Mr. Tansley to get me out. But how would it be, she thought, if neither of us did either of these things? So she sat there, smiling.

Tuesday Project Roundup: Changing Plans And The Importance Of Pattern Placement

Originally I had planned on making a two-tone Cynthia Rowley dress. I had some leftover wool jersey from the dress in February to use for the bodice and I got a yard of Liberty for the skirt. I was picturing a lovely end-of-summer dress.

But as I still haven't learned, the cut on her patterns are odd. I sewed the bodice before cutting into the skirt fabric (maybe I am learning a little), and it's just too low cut. It's a lovely end-of-summer party dress, but I don't really go to parties. I suppose I can throw a skirt onto the bodice if a party ever does come up, but I didn't want to waste the Liberty on something I'd only wear once a year.

So I made the skirt fabric into another button-back top. This time I went with version 3, with the cut-out in front and the ties. Here it is with the sailor skirt, if you can make it out

And here's a close up, which brings me to pattern placement: Doesn't the cut-out look like a mouth, and don't the two dark blue daisies on my shoulders look like eyes? NOM NOM NOM!!
I only had a yard of fabric to work with, so I probably couldn't have done anything about that even if I had noticed. I'm just glad I can't see it when I'm wearing it.

NOM!

Use Your Imagination

(Because we're landlocked and don't grow rice. But I think it captures the green gloom nicely.)

The beginning of autumn:
Sea and emerald paddy
Both the same green.

-Basho

Friday Unrelated Information

1. Brewvies has a feature on the last Sunday of every month in which a bad movie is shown and the audience is encouraged to act like the MST3K crew and heckle it. Does this seem like it would be a fun event, or does it seem like it would be incredibly awkward? The novelist in me is really curious.

2. A client has repeatedly asked for copy to be "more fun." I am tempted to show them the next round written in LOLSpeak.

3. It's the weekend! Follow Toby's example and put up your feet tonight.

I Haven't Talked Much About The Garden This Year

But I have one. It's doing well, except for the zucchini (this is my fourth summer here and I never get a lot of zucchini--lots of flowers but only one or two squash. It's a mystery.).

Here it is:

This year I added a birdbath, which is too deep for them to really bathe in but does get used for drinking. And there are sunflowers.

This Is An Intervention, J. Crew

J. Crew, I know we've drifted apart since our very public breakup a few years ago. Sure, I've checked in sometimes, to see what you're up to--and to see if you have any cashmere cardigans in good colors (oh, the cardigans, J.Crew, the cardigans seem to last forever...). But lately, I've been worried about you. It's more than just the prose style--I guess I could get used to that--but I feel like I hardly know you any more. For example, look at what you offered in Fall '07:

You were in Paris! Your models were happy! They coordinated! They brushed their hair! What happened in three years?



Now you're hanging around with a suit-clad Jesus and wearing Hammer sweatpants? With an Army hat? This...this isn't the J. Crew I used to know. I know I've matured and evolved in three years, but I haven't abandoned everything I value, like colored peacoats and bright pretty flats.

I don't know what's going on in your life but I am worried about you, J. Crew. I mean, you used to offer real pants:

And now there's this:

Those are...not pants. I'm so worried. Get help, J. Crew.

Tuesday Project Roundup: If I Make You A Present, I Will Blog About It

As I mentioned, it was my dad's birthday over the weekend. I also hinted at a present: I made him a Hawaiian shirt for some birthday aloha.
The fabric is barkcloth, a lucky find from a Hawaiian store, and I used a Simplicity pattern that was really straightforward. It didn't call for a facing on the back yoke, so I added one--and then cut a hole in it (swearing ensued). Fortunately these "made by" labels are self-adhesive and patched the hole.
And they're true!

Writers Born Yesterday

Yesterday, it was the birthday of both Dorothy Parker and Ray Bradbury. (Ray turned 90! Way to go, sir.)

Here's a list of 10 Things You Didn't Know About Ray Bradbury (actually, you might know them, but it's still fun to read).

And here's one of my favorite quotes ever from Mrs. Parker:
"This is not a novel to be tossed aside lightly. It should be thrown with great force."

Friday Unrelated Information

1. Sunday is my dad's birthday. Happy birthday, Dad! Your gift this year is me not buying a house that has to be fully remodeled. (Just kidding, you'll get something else, too.)

2. If you're feeling irritable or defeated, I've discovered that all you have to do is listen to ABBA. This is my personal favorite:


3. This helps, too, and is endorsed by the man who discovered penicillin:
A good gulp of hot whiskey at bedtime — it's not very scientific, but it helps.
(Sir Alexander Fleming)

Poem Day

Here's something silly and cryptic from our buddy Frank O'Hara. There are lots of references to hip New York people and places from the late 50's that I don't get, but I'm posting it because I love the "croissant factory" line near the end.

Lines For the Fortune Cookies

I think you're wonderful and so does everyone else.

Just as Jackie Kennedy has a baby boy, so will you—even bigger.

You will meet a tall beautiful blonde stranger, and you will not say hello.

You will take a long trip and you will be very happy, though alone.

You will marry the first person who tells you your eyes are like scrambled eggs.

In the beginning there was YOU—there will always be YOU, I guess.

You will write a great play and it will run for three performances.

Please phone The Village Voice immediately: they want to interview you.

Roger L. Stevens and Kermit Bloomgarden have their eyes on you.

Relax a little; one of your most celebrated nervous tics will be your undoing.

Your first volume of poetry will be published as soon as you finish it.

You may be a hit uptown, but downtown you're legendary!

Your walk has a musical quality which will bring you fame and fortune.

You will eat cake.

Who do you think you are, anyway? Jo Van Fleet?

You think your life is like Pirandello, but it's really like O'Neill.

A few dance lessons with James Waring and who knows? Maybe something will happen.

That's not a run in your stocking, it's a hand on your leg.

I realize you've lived in France, but that doesn't mean you know EVERYTHING!

You should wear white more often—it becomes you.

The next person to speak to you will have a very intriguing proposal to make.

A lot of people in this room wish they were you.

Have you been to Mike Goldberg's show? Al Leslie's? Lee Krasner's?

At times, your disinterestedness may seem insincere, to strangers.

Now that the election's over, what are you going to do with yourself?

You are a prisoner in a croissant factory and you love it.

You eat meat. Why do you eat meat?

Beyond the horizon there is a vale of gloom.

You too could be Premier of France, if only… if only…

And Now, A Reading From Atlas Shurgged

She had always been...the motive power of her own happiness. For once, she wanted to feel herself carried by the power of someone else's achievement. As men on a dark prairie liked to see the lighted windows of a train going past...the sight of power and purpose that gave them reassurance in the midst of empty miles and night--so she wanted to feel it for a moment, a brief greeting, a single glimpse, just to wave her arm and say: Someone is going somewhere.


(Related: This is pretty funny.)

Tuesday Project Roundup: My Fabrics, Let Me Show You Them

The current project is a dress that's not working out (fool me once, Cynthia Rowley, shame on you. Fool me three times....well, I think I learned my lesson). I'm re-purposing the dress skirt fabric to make a blouse, but that's not done yet. So instead, look what happens when you get a bonus and have realized it's easy to order things internationally:

Liberty of London baby cord in "Mauverina" (love that name)

Liberty Tana lawn in "Strawberry Thief" and "Poppy and Honesty"

And my favorites, "My Little Star" and "Helland" (tiny viking ships for the win!)

Everything but the funk-tastic star print came from Shaukaut, a store in London that offers Liberty fabrics at a great discount--even with international shipping. They were already sold out of the "My Little Star" print, though (it's from the spring collection) and I had decided I NEEDED it, of course, so I found that at a place in Canada.

Ahem.

I do plan on all this fancy fabric taking me until at least January, with a couple of skirts thrown in, so it feels a little less excessive when I think of how it will spread out. Besides, if I get a house by the end of the year I won't be able to buy anything fancy, so I thought I'd better stock up.

Gary Cooper? Gary Cooper.

I had no idea Gary Cooper was so hot in his early career. I always think of him in the High Noon era, which is rugged and capable but not really anything to write home about.

But look at him 20 years earlier! Hellloooo, Coop!

You're burning my eyes, Gary.

I hope this has improved your Monday.

Friday Unrelated Information

1. Someone who has a deep fryer and truffle salt needs to make this so we can try it: Carrot bacon.

2. How have I not read any of Carl Sagan's books until now? Last Friday's quote was from Cosmos and I just started The Demon-Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark. Best title ever, Carl.

3. I never could get those "magic eye" posters to work:

Because A Clip From "Grey Gardens" Would Be Too Depressing

Speaking of patching roofs, here's a song that I would always hear on the oldies station my dad listened to when I was a little kid (although I think this version was the one playing in 1985). I love the images chosen to accompany the song here.



(As for house hunting, there was one likely one. But how do you know that it's "The One"? A few people have asked if I want to start dating again--I think house hunting is similar enough that I don't need to.)

House Angst

I have been gingerly wading into the deep scary world of the housing market. I have a real estate agent, I got a loan application (which made me throw up in my mouth a little), and tonight I'm looking at a bunch of likely homes.

I'm sure most people have anxiety over house purchases, but mine isn't necessarily about mortgaging my life away--it's about how on earth I'll maintain a house. In the area where I want to be, new houses are scarce and expensive, so I'm looking at age ranges from the 1920's to the 40's. Which means that there's a lot more maintenance to keep on top of. (It also means that when it's paid off in 30 years and I'm 60, I'll be in a hundred-year-old house. Along with my 15 cats.)

I know how to maintain the inside of a house, and I suppose things like cleaning out gutters and lawn mowing and winterizing and fixing holes in the roof aren't rocket science, or most people's homes would look a lot worse than they do. A reasonably intelligent person who's good at following instructions and reading diagrams should be able to learn as she goes, right?

Right?

Tuesday Project Roundup: Hippy Dress Patterns From France

Despite this summer of pencil skirts and little blouses, my first love remains the hippy dress--a dress that's loose and smock-like and looks good with boots. (I think this love stems from my love for the muumuu.)

A Simplicity pattern that I use a lot makes a good hippy dress, but then I discovered these patterns from France. France knows all about hippies, right?


This line primarily makes children's patterns (enfants and bebes) and I learned about it when a couple of craft bloggers I follow bought enfant patterns and raved over the "simple, sophisticated lines." We'll see how they sew up--but the pattern pieces already have a French flair:


(Note to anyone who's forgotten their high school French: Modern patterns from Simplicity, etc. are labeled in English and French, so you have an automatic glossary for these. And there are diagrams. And hippy dresses are not complicated.)

Monday Mary Oliver

Here's something about nature and mindfulness (yoga word!)to ponder today, as we sit in our offices...

Yes! No! by Mary Oliver

How necessary it is to have opinions! I think the spotted trout
lilies are satisfied, standing a few inches above the earth. I
think serenity is not something you just find in the world,
like a plum tree, holding up its white petals.

The violets, along the river, are opening their blue faces, like
small dark lanterns.

The green mosses, being so many, are as good as brawny.

How important it is to walk along, not in haste but slowly,
looking at everything and calling out

Yes! No! The

swan, for all his pomp, his robes of grass and petals, wants
only to be allowed to live on the nameless pond. The catbrier
is without fault. The water thrushes, down among the sloppy
rocks, are going crazy with happiness. Imagination is better
than a sharp instrument. To pay attention, this is our endless
and proper work.

Friday Unrelated Information

1. This Carl Sagan quote gently refutes my glee yesterday about swearing ("I have to do it; it's instinct!"):
The cerebral cortex is a liberation. We need no longer be trapped in the genetically inherited patterns of lizards and baboons. We are, each of us, largely responsible for what gets put into our brains, for what, as adults, we wind up caring for and knowing about. No longer at the mercy of the reptile brain, we can change ourselves.

2. Somewhat related, if only because I learned about her in the Cosmos series, did you know that a movie is out about the life of Hypatia? It's called Agora and its lack of a slick Flash site (or any site) makes me hopeful.

Those ARE The Best Words, Apparently

I swear a lot. I try to keep a lid on it in public, but in private--and in my head--there's a lot of profanity. Sometimes I think that, as someone who deals with words all day, I should have a better substitute for all these curse words, something more creative and less swear-y. But it seems that's not the case:

This "How Stuff Works" article about swearing brings in the science behind swearing, saying that "many researchers believe that it helps relieve stress and blow off steam, like crying does for small children." The coolest thing, though, is what happens to our brains when we swear:
Language processing is a "higher" brain function and takes place in the cerebral cortex [while] emotion and instinct are "lower" brain functions and take place deep inside the brain...Many studies suggest that the brain processes swearing in the lower regions, along with emotion and instinct..

So they're words that aren't even processed as language, but instead tied to our basic brain functions? No wonder there aren't any satisfying substitutes. I love it when science backs me up.

Ginsberg It Up

I thought of this Sunday night at the grocery store.

A Supermarket in California

by Allen Ginsberg

What thoughts I have of you tonight Walt Whitman, for I walked down
the sidestreets under the trees with a headache self-conscious looking at the full moon.
In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images, I went into the neon
fruit supermarket, dreaming of your enumerations!
What peaches and what penumbras! Whole families shopping at night! Aisles
full of husbands! Wives in the avocados, babies in the tomatoes!—and you, Garcia
Lorca, what were you doing down by the watermelons?

I saw you, Walt Whitman, childless, lonely old grubber, poking
among the meats in the refrigerator and eyeing the grocery boys.
I heard you asking questions of each: Who killed the pork chops? What price
bananas? Are you my Angel?
I wandered in and out of the brilliant stacks of cans following you, and
followed in my imagination by the store detective.
We strode down the open corridors together in our solitary fancy
tasting artichokes, possessing every frozen delicacy, and never passing the cashier.

Where are we going, Walt Whitman? The doors close in an hour. Which way
does your beard point tonight?
(I touch your book and dream of our odyssey in the supermarket and feel
absurd.)
Will we walk all night through solitary streets? The trees add shade to shade,
lights out in the houses, we'll both be lonely.
Will we stroll dreaming of the lost America of love past blue automobiles in
driveways, home to our silent cottage?
Ah, dear father, graybeard, lonely old courage-teacher, what America did you
have when Charon quit poling his ferry and you got out on a smoking bank
and stood watching the boat disappear on the black waters of Lethe?

Berkeley, 1955

Tuesday Project Roundup: No Such Thing As Too Much Pattern

This week's project is just a pillow cover. I had some fabric on hand that I had bought for the quilt binding (before I decided on solid blue) and enough left over from the back border to finish it off.

And there's piping. I guess I'd better plan on making a winter bathrobe soon, since I'm starting to put piping on everything.

To The Mountains

Since there are only six weeks left of summer and I hadn't been to the mountains yet, Saturday I went to Mirror Lake with the family.

I hadn't been up there for nearly twenty years, but it was pretty much how I remembered it--with about a thousand percent more people. (Whatever happened to people camping in tents? Now people bring trailers, barbecues, lawn games, lap dogs, and god knows what else.) But it was still nice to see the sights:

This is Bald Mountain. We did not climb it because we did not want to get stuck in an afternoon thunderstorm at the top.

Here's a little lake. We had walked away from the people at this point.


A gorgeous gorge (ha!). People were right behind us but I ignored them.

Friday Unrelated Information

1. Do you think it's prudent or crazy to avoid buying a house in the Avenues because I'm afraid it would slide right down the hill in an earthquake? I was thinking it was prudent, but I walked to yoga last night and thought, "I really like my neighborhood." (Do other people even think like this? Plan their life around disasters that may never happen?)

2. It's the first of August this weekend, which means it's Lughnasa, which means we have six more weeks of summer. I'd better take more walks and enjoy it.

3. Fair season will also be here before you know it. I didn't enter anything last year and when I walked around the fair I felt like I was left out. So now I'm trying to decide what sewing projects are impressive enough to enter, and if I want to try to finish that cable sweater, too.

Not A Verb

I've found a site that I want to print out and leave at everyone's desks at work: notaverb.com. It makes the case conclusively that "login" is not a verb (if you don't want to read the page, use it as two words). This makes me unreasonable happy--as does the conclusion on the "login" page:

If you take only one thing away from this page, take that one fact: "login" is not a verb. Educate others. Correct manuals, software, and web pages as you find them. Tell everyone you know that "login" is not a verb. You will make a pedant (me) happy. You will earn the respect of grammar nazis. Most importantly, you will know the truth.

Toby Says:

"Do we have to get up today?"

Baby, I wish we didn't.

(I was counting last night and realized I'd cranked out 12 voiceover scripts in three weeks. No wonder I'm not excited to go to work!)

Tuesday Project Roundup: The Summer Of The Skirt Continues

Hey look, a pencil skirt in a bright print--bet you haven't seen anything like that before!
It's the same Burda pattern that I used on all the others, and it goes together in under two hours now. The fabric is a print from designer Heather Ross' collection inspired by fairy tales. I went with generic roses, but the Owl and the Pussycat fabric was tempting.
I have one more dress planned for summer, but lately all I can think about is fall and fall sewing--which makes me feel kind of disloyal to the season. I was secretly happy about the rain and the coolness last night. (Sorry, summer.)

Mad Men Music Monday

How great was the first episode of Mad Men season 4 last night? I loved seeing Peggy like that and the ending was fantastic, with Don and his whiskey and this song:

Friday Unrelated Information

1. Today is Raymond Chandler's birthday. Here's one of my favorite quotes, talking about Phillip Marlowe setting up a chess problem for himself:
[It was] ...a battle without armor, a war without blood, and as elaborate a waste of human intelligence as you could find anywhere outside an advertising agency.

2. With the windows open at night, I've been hearing some rustling in the front sometimes. It's not human-sized rustling, but I've wondered what creature is doing it (mice? snails? there are a lot of snails here). This morning at 4:00 it woke me (and Toby) up again and I looked out to see a mama raccoon and FOUR big babies. They seemed to be eating snails. Carry on, raccoons.

Thursday Poem

I like today's poem; it sounds like the blues. (A minor seventh is the interval between the opening two notes of "There's a Place for Us," by the way.)

Minor Seventh

by Jeffrey Bean

Foghorns, grackles, wheat fields sighing in wind. The night
hawk's ricochet. You better come on in my kitchen. Mixolydian
trumpet runs boiling up the Mississippi, turning into urban
blues and smokestacks over Gary, Indiana. Hymns. Grief.
The hiss of sprinklers in timber yards, brawl of log trucks
crawling up Mt. Hood. Chainsaws, see-saws, sneakers,
squeaking in high school gyms. Have you driven a ford lately?
Field hollers. Sorrow. Fat fathers riding their mowers' thick
Chords. Throngs of Santa Clauses all across Wisconsin ringing
bells in snow in front of Wal-Marts. Musac at Costco, Osco,
Piggly Wiggly, Winn-Dixie. Arawaks' shouting, the Santa
Maria creaking onto shore. Cell phones, car alarms, laptops,
the air raid siren's range. Achy Breaky Heart in the flamingo
light of roller rinks. The wheeze of progress. The forests of
Mississippi echoing with Me and the devil was walking side by side.
Grind of church organs, cotton gins, sledge hammers
knocking into granite. No one listening to Monk play
Crepuscule with Nellie at The Open Door. Toyotas starting,
crows screaming, a rabbit snatched by an owl. Gimme a pigsfoot
and a bottle of beer. Reverend Dimmesdale speaking in tongues
of flame. Michael Buffer crooning Let's get ready to rumble!
Chants at NBA games. Weeping. St Louis woman, where's your
diamond ring?

Happy Birthday, Papa!

No, it's not my father's birthday--it's Papa Hemingway's!

Hem and his cat.

There are a lot of old interviews with him floating around the internet--one from The Paris Review has this gem:

HEMINGWAY [asked about the amount of revising he does]: It depends. I rewrote the ending to Farewell to Arms, the last page of it, thirty-nine times before I was satisfied.

INTERVIEWER : Was there some technical problem there? What was it that had stumped you?

HEMINGWAY: Getting the words right.

Amen, brother.

Tuesday Project Roundup: Vacation Wear (I Wish)

Here's that button-back top pattern from last month again. I tweaked the fit a little (lower neckline, longer sleeves, more room all over) and made it in a good cotton, and indeed I like it a lot more now.

I was going to add a collar, too, but I decided the print was enough. I also like how the plain neck makes it look like vacation wear from 1963:

Now I just need a vacation...

(Screenshot from Mad Men taken from the fabulous Tom and Lorenzo blog. If you're not reading their posts on "Mad Style," you should be.)

Hot

I don't know why the heat is bothering me so much this year--maybe because it's hotter than it ever got last year? Because it hasn't been cooling down at night? Anyway, here's something from Dandelion Wine about the heat in Greentown:

Air ran like hot spring waters nowhere, with no sound...Tar was poured licorice in the streets, red bricks were brass and gold, roof tops were paved with gold. The high-tension wires were lightning held forever, a threat above the unslept houses.

Friday Unrelated Information

1. The Writer's Almanac tells me that "It was on this day in 1951 that J.D. Salinger's first and only novel, The Catcher in the Rye," was published." His only novel that we know of, that is.

2. I don't really understand this but I love it when science seems like magic (i.e. the Large Hadron Collider, space): Quantum Entanglement Holds DNA Together, Say Physicists

3. My friend Jason linked to this "writing style analysis" page this week--you copy in some of your writing and it tells you who you write like. Except I tested the system four times and got David Foster Wallace, Chuck Palahniuk, Margaret Atwood, and Dan Brown. So I'm saying that it's not really accurate. (Because I don't write like Dan Brown! Right? RIGHT?)

New Desk!

Internet, look! I finally have an adult-sized desk!
The saga of the desk began months ago, when I decided it was time to retire what I'd been using since I was ten. Then came the deciding what to buy, then came the deciding if I should just wait until I get a house and have something new delivered there, and then I saw a project that involved decoupaging filing cabinets, and everything clicked.

My parents had two filing cabinets in storage and my handy father offered to make a desktop (since the options from IKEA were the wrong size). So for the cost of paint, Japanese paper, and some shelving--plus a week of free labor from my dad--I have a new desk!
We (I use "we" loosely) decided to use spray adhesive instead of Mod Podge, and it worked out great. I'm glad I went with a subtle pattern, since there's already a lot of pattern in the room.

And LOOK--there are no visible cords. My dad rigged up a brilliant system for mounting the power strip on the back support.
I love the desk (Toby does too!). Thanks, Dad!

If Only

I've had a hard time writing this week (and I have the bitten fingernails to prove it). These solutions would be PERFECT.

Speaking of smoking and drinking at work, 1.5 weeks until the new season of Mad Men!

Tuesday Project Roundup: Sewing For Toby

Toby had a brown donut that he slept in all winter, but the velour on the top was getting ratty. So I recovered the top in a plush leopard print for him.
I debated re-doing the entire cover, but there's a zipper all around the bottom and a zipper going in a circle seemed like more effort than it's worth. The new top does have piping around the edge, though.

He jumped right in and had a bath, so even though it's been too hot to sleep in it, I think he likes it.

Happy Birthday, Pablo Neruda

The Writer's Almanac tells me that today is poet Pablo Neruda's birthday, in 1904. (His first book was called Crepusculario [Twilight], ha.)

Here's some Neruda to start the week--it reminds me of going to see the lava and the ocean in Hawaii:

"It is Born" (trans. by Joel Gallo)

Here I came to the very edge
where nothing at all needs saying,
everything is absorbed through weather and the sea,
and the moon swam back,
its rays all silvered,
and time and again the darkness would be broken
by the crash of a wave,
and every day on the balcony of the sea,
wings open, fire is born,
and everything is blue again like morning

Friday Unrelated Information

1. Are you bothered by people writing "alot" instead of "a lot"? This is the post for you, from a blog with really funny illustrations.

2. The beginninng yoga class I'm taking includes some background on how yoga fits in with Hindu philosophy, and last night we were told that the heart is a deep well of generosity (my inner hippy loves this, by the way). I had to remember a quote I found from the Upanishads that I posted a long time ago:
The little space within the heart is as great as the vast universe. The heavens and the earth are there, and the sun and the moon and the stars. Fire and lightning and winds are there, and all that now is and all that is not.

3. Check out ten pages of old WPA posters on the Library of Congress site.

Halfway Report: 30 Things

Now that it's July, I realized it's been six months since I put up my list of 30 Things To Do Before 31. Halfway through the year, I'm not really halfway done but I think the progress has been steadier than last year. The full list is below, with commentary--green is done, red is not, and pending or in progress things are orange.

1. Put the money that I was using to pay off debt into savings for a down payment on some sort of house, townhouse, or condo. Still saving!
   
2. Learn about real estate and home buying through the Utah State Extension classes. I made it through the first few chapters, ran aground on the "choosing a realtor" unit (there was an icky video) and then gave up. But I need to learn about earnest money and closing costs.
   
3. Stop buying non-essentials (ready-made clothes, really expensive fabric, shoes, magazines, etc.) for three months (months TBD) I made it a month, and now I'm limiting personal spending to $100 or less a month--so far, so good.
   
4. Buy that Eames desk chair. I'll use the money I'll be saving from not buying any non-essentials. I've actually found a different desk chair and have plans to get a whole new desk set-up involving an IKEA desk top, filing cabinets, and decoupage. I'll let you know how it goes.
   
5. Buy that damn garbage can already. Um...
   
6. Buy a living room chair--armless, small-ish, but comfy. This will help with seating to accomplish #22. Done!
   
7. Sew new pillow covers for the living room. Done!
   
8. Buy a vacuum. Done! (How did I live so long without one?!)
   
9. Refresh my yoga skills and then...
10. Start doing yoga once or twice a week. In progress. I finally started going to beginning yoga in June and I've mostly kept it up.
    
11. Get recycling at the apartment. I haven't had it for three years and I'm tired of feeling guilty every time I throw away some junk mail. Not done. Sorry, Earth.
    
12. Similarly, bring in some actual flatware for the breakroom at work to cut down on waste. Also not done. But I feel guilty every time I throw away a plastic fork.
    
13. November-March, walk or ride to work at least twice a month. April-September, up it to at least four times a month. Summer is going pretty well.
    
14. Eat at one new restaurant a month--any meal, but it has to be somewhere I haven't been before. I've been doing ok with this, if you count Sampan takeout in June as a restaurant experience. (And I do.)
    
15. Eat at Red Iguana. Why is this so hard? I've been trying for two years now!
    
16. Go to Bonneville Speed Week. It's in August. Or in October. They need a better website.
    
17. Go to a roller derby game. Planned for this Saturday, so I say it's green!
    
18. Stop biting my fingernails (I mean it this year). Things were bad, then I got a manicure, then I did some home manicures, and then crazy a week at work did me in again. I think I can keep up the manicures at home.
    
19. Wear more colors of lipstick than "pink" and "darker pink." Um...
    
20. Find a perfume I want to wear regularly. Done!
    
21. Stock and maintain a home bar and keep it stocked. No drinking it up and not replacing it. I still haven't done this--for some reason it seems SO decadent to go spend $150 on booze all at once.
    
22. Have more people over to the apartment--not huge parties, but a few people for dinner, or drinks before a restaurant, etc. I was being really social (for me) at the beginning of the year but no one has been over all spring. I'd better plan something.
    
23. Learn more about wine. Does a wine class in January count?
    
24. Learn and retain the difference between whisk(e)y, bourbon, and scotch. "Retain" is the key word here...
    
25. Learn and retain the difference between brandy and cognac. Cognac is more expensive? Does that count?
    
26. Get my eyes checked again, update my prescription, and start wearing glasses in front of the computer. Not yet.
    
27. Find a dermatologist to look at a couple of moles, if only so I can stop worrying about skin cancer. Ha, I've been too busy sunbathing to look up a doctor...
    
28. Learn how to can fruits, veggies, or jam. Done! Oh, the feeling of accomplishment. What can I can next?
    
29. Get a better camera. Every time I get a blurry or overly dark shot (which is ALL the time with the Target closeout toy camera I use), I mean to really do the research and just buy one. Not yet, though...
    
30. Go to Moab and/or Zion. Planned for the fall, hooray!
    

We Know How To Have A Good Time Around Here

Yes, just another exciting Tuesday evening sorting yarn and vacuuming the yarn basket:

(That vacuum is Thing #8, by the way. I'd better do another quarterly report soon!)

Tuesday Project Roundup: Roman-American

I was ready for something easy after that involved sailor skirt and all the seam finishing, so what could be easier than making two big rectangles into a skirt? I think hemming all 85" around the bottom took about as long as the rest of the sewing combined.

This is a patternless project that my mom first turned me on to, but you can find a tutorial here if you don't have a mom who grew up in the 50s.

Every time I wear a full skirt I have to think of Roman Holiday, which has the best blouse-skirt-sandals look for summer, ever (in Rome or not).

Yay, America!

Here is a poem I've always liked. I hope everyone's pets weren't scared by the fireworks last night. (Toby wasn't too worried: People coming in the house are much scarier than noises outside the house.)

"American Names," by Stephen Vincent Benet

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.

Seine and Piave are silver spoons,
But the spoonbowl-metal is thin and worn,
There are English counties like hunting-tunes
Played on the keys of a postboy’s horn,
But I will remember where I was born.

I will remember Carquinez Straits,
Little French Lick and Lundy’s Lane,
The Yankee ships and the Yankee dates
And the bullet-towns of Calamity Jane.
I will remember Skunktown Plain.

Rue des Martyrs and Bleeding-Heart-Yard,
Senlis, Pisa, and Blindman’s Oast,
It is a magic ghost you guard
But I am sick for a newer ghost,
Harrisburg, Spartanburg, Painted Post.

Henry and John were never so
And Henry and John were always right?
Granted, but when it was time to go
And the tea and the laurels had stood all night,
Did they never watch for Nantucket Light?

I shall not rest quiet in Montparnasse.
I shall not lie easy at Winchelsea.
You may bury my body in Sussex grass,
You may bury my tongue at Champmedy.
I shall not be there. I shall rise and pass.
Bury my heart at Wounded Knee.

Friday Unrelated Information

1. Oh look, it's another three-day weekend. Hooray!

2. Today is the 30th anniversary of the movie Airplane, which is right up there with The Blues Brothers in my favorites. Take this quiz--"Don't Call Me Shirley: An Airplane Quiz" to see how much of the movie you've memorized.

3. My sad little Walt Whitman poem got cut off yesterday, which is also sad, but I've fixed it.

A Poem For When You Are Being Hard On Yourself

Perhaps you think you should know more about real estate, or how to turn off your pilot light after all this time. Maybe you've decided to sell your violin, despite your youthful hopes and dreams. Regardless, it will be OK. Walt knows how it is:

"O Me! O Life!" by Walt Whitman

O ME! O life! of the questions of these recurring,
Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill'd with the
foolish,
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I,
and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the
struggle ever renew'd,
Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see
around me,
Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me
intertwined,
The question, O me! so sad, recurring-What good amid these, O me,
O life?

Answer.
That you are here-that life exists and identity,
That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.