Tuesday Project Roundup: Tiny Little "o rly?"

Finally, I can share the cuteness that is the avian-inspired baby shower gift for a friend:
The owls do have button eyes, but they're small.

When I heard that one of my few and therefore special girlfriends was having a baby, I knew I had to make something just as special. I wanted to knit and sew, and when I found the owl and bird flannel (from here) everything just clicked: I would make a tiny "Owls" sweater from this pattern (like my big one) and then two simple blankets (just squares sewn together with rick-rack on the edge). I was done with this about six weeks before the baby shower last Saturday--which turned out to be owl-themed! That was a crazy coincidence, ya rly.

Monday's Poem

Today's poem is from our buddy Mark Strand, found on the Writer's Almanac a few weeks ago:

Mirror

A white room and a party going on
and I was standing with some friends
under a large gilt-framed mirror
that tilted slightly forward
over the fireplace.
We were drinking whiskey
and some of us, feeling no pain,
were trying to decide
what precise shade of yellow
the setting sun turned our drinks.
I closed my eyes briefly,
then looked up into the mirror:
a woman in a green dress leaned
against the far wall.
She seemed distracted,
the fingers of one hand
fidgeted with her necklace,
and she was staring into the mirror,
not at me, but past me, into a space
that might be filled by someone
yet to arrive, who at that moment
could be starting the journey
which would lead eventually to her.
Then, suddenly, my friends
said it was time to move on.
This was years ago,
and though I have forgotten
where we went and who we all were,
I still recall that moment of looking up
and seeing the woman stare past me
into a place I could only imagine,
and each time it is with a pang,
as if just then I were stepping
from the depths of the mirror
into that white room, breathless and eager,
only to discover too late
that she is not there.

Friday Unrelated Information

1. The only gymkhana I'd heard about before seeing this involved ponies. This is much cooler.

I bet my Ford could do that.

2. I think I need one of these mod cat prints for my imaginary house:

3. I wanted to find some new sci-fi to geek out about, so I started watching the 2005 Dr. Who series. Let the geeking out begin!

30 Things: A Little Progress

It's about time for the third quarter report on my 30 Things, but I don't feel as if I've made a lot of progress (in fact, I've regressed on riding my bike). But I do have two things done that I'm proud of:



That's #18 [Stop biting my fingernails] and #2 [Learn more about real estate].

Honestly, I feel that #18 can be up there with paying off debt as a supreme achievement. All it took was noticeable fingernail polish--because then people would notice all my chewed cuticles and hangnails, too--and I stopped.

Simple solutions, books for dummies....who knew?

"Not too much, or the soul could not sustain it"

After my weekend fling with opera I went through Monday and Tuesday wishing real life were like that, with passion and tenderness and great loves instead of house hunting and craft projects and work deadlines. I thought the cure was to listen to music that wasn't opera--I pulled out The Song of the Earth, the Missa Solemnis, unaccompanied Bach--but instead of helping I think that gave me Stendhal Syndrome.

So it's a good thing that going through the blog archives yesterday to find a picture of that jacket, I found this quote from An Equal Music:

Music, such music, is a sufficient gift. Why ask for happiness; why hope not to grieve? It is enough, it is to be blessed enough, to live from day to day and to hear such music--not too much, or the soul could not sustain it--from time to time.



(Related, and probably adding to my music issues this week: Does anyone out there need a semi-professional grade violin? I have mine up for sale; it's German, and does wonders with gut strings. Email me through my portfolio site in the right sidebar if you want more info.)

Tuesday Project Roundup: Should I?

I'm thinking about making a winter coat. I thought about it last year and then just bought one, but this year I've discovered blogs that walk you through tailoring techniques and provide source info for things like hymo interfacing and hair canvas.

What coat would I make? Well, like 90% of women on the planet, I've always loved the orange one from Breakfast at Tiffany's:

I could track down a vintage pattern that's similar and learn how to make bound buttonholes, but I have a better idea. Remember this coat from a few years ago?

If I make the longer length, leave off the shoulder capes, and then cinch it with a belt instead of buttons, I think I'd have a modern take on the Audrey coat. Plus, I'd know how it fits and how it goes together, making it easy to add fancy tailoring steps.

Of course, J. Crew has something similar this season, too--but I don't want to enable J. Crew any more than I have. (And it's $325. Not everyone is a high roller, J. Crew.)

So that's what I've been thinking about. I've even ordered swatches, so I think I may have answered the question of "Should I?" and moved on to "When can I get this project going?"

Russians Make The Best Imaginary Boyfriends

Over the weekend I had a fling with this guy:

He's Dimitri Hvorotovsky and he was the lead in the Met production of Eugene Onegin (opposite Renee Fleming!) that I had on DVD for two glorious days.

Damn, he can wear a t-shirt. And sing.

Sorry, Mikhail, but you've been replaced. I miss hanging out with musicians anyway.

Check out my new boyfriend in action here (older, but with subtitles) or here (that special production we shared over the weekend).

Friday Unrelated Information

1. Did you see the moon last night? This article tells us that it's the first time the Harvest Moon--the September full moon--has fallen on the equinox since 1991, and that it won't happen again until 2029.

2. I've discovered that opera on DVD is perfect to sew to. I don't get too wrapped up in the plot and most productions are four hours long. This weekend I have Eugene Onegin.

3. I'm relieved to be done with canning (for now), but I liked this WWII poster:

Rallying For Thursday

Here's a quote from W.B. Yeats to inspire us today:

Let us go forth, the tellers of tales, and seize whatever prey the heart longs for, and have no fear. Everything exists, everything is true, and the earth is only a little dust under our feet.

(I mean "gather your efforts for one last fight" here when I say "rallying," not "drive really fast over rough ground." Although that would be cool on a Thursday, too.)

Live From Cannery Row

As you can see, I got more peaches and the correct size jars. As I said to myself on the second batch of peach jam, "I am canning the hell out of these peaches!"

From left to right: Peach-rosemary jam, peach jam, tomatoes, and peaches in syrup.

And now I'm thinking of the end of Cannery Row.

Tuesday Project Roundup: Fair Report

I finally made it to the fair Friday to check out my entries. Check out first place in the not-so-competitive "Blouse" category:
And check out fourth place in the much more competitive "Cable Sweater" category:

I was a little bummed about fourth (and about the fact that they had put my sweater on a hanger and stretched it all out of shape), but then I saw third place, which was exponentially more elaborate than mine and only got third:

This year I looked at exhibits in the 4-H building and the Creative Arts building, which I usually skip, an it was really heartening to see all the nice work from the young kids in 4-H. And we can all heed the advice of this sign:

I know being a "cool" person and liking the state fair is supposed to be ironic, but I think the fair is great. You think farming is disappearing or becoming totally industrialized, and then you see the eight-year-olds showing sheep or the lucky, lucky teenage girls* riding their horses and you realize that it's closer than you think.

Maybe that's why I like the fair: If I win a ribbon for sewing, I can imagine that someday I might win a ribbon for an egg from my chickens, or even be one of the people who drive in from their ranch and show their animals. Someday, I guess. Until then, I can enter things in the fair.


*Teenage girls, I hope you realize how lucky you are to have your horses. Some people are still longing for one at thirty. I'm just saying.

Happy Birthday To My Brother!

My brother turns 34 today. He's always been the best big brother, pulling me around the yard on a sled when we were little and taking car of my car now that we're grown up. Have fun today, brother!

Friday Unrelated Information

1. The story of Moses the camel being rescued from a sinkhole by Oregon firefighters makes me happy. And it reinforces my desire to date a firefighter--brave, strong, able to cook, and kind to animals to boot? Sign me up!

2. I think "curate" is the new "to gift" that's going to drive me bonkers. People: You don't "curate" a book or a blog. You write it, edit it, compile it, or collect it.

3. I'm finally going to the fair this weekend. I had planned to go last weekend but got hit with whatever cold is going around. My brother already gave me the report on my entries, but it will still be nice to go see the goats and the horses.

Look What I Have

I found this poster for my office at work. It's nearly three feet by five feet. Delight in it.

Canning: It Also Rquires Measuring

When I posted that Thing #28 was "easy," I didn't mention that I did it with my mom, at her house, with lots of supervision. Well, pride goeth before a fall, and lack of spatial awareness goeth with my second canning attempt.

I had half a box of peaches and big plans to make jam with some and then just can the rest in syrup. I imagined jars full of lovely peach halves like little suns. I planned the steps carefully. I peeled the peaches beautifully. And then the halves didn't fit in the jars and I had way too many.

As it turns out, I had half pint jars that I thought were the larger one pint size. Never in all the planning and peeling did it occur to me that the peaches were almost as big as the jars. No, I was convinced I had pint jars; peach halves fit in pints; it would all work out.

This wasn't a total canning fail, because after I cut everything into smaller pieces and kept going, it all worked out. (I ended up slicing and freezing the leftovers.) It's just that I now have seven successful single servings of peaches, laboriously canned.

Seven servings! I'm stocking up for the long winter!


You know what goes well with peaches? Bourbon.

Tuesday Project Roundup: In Which My Inner Hippy Is Victorious

Introducing the hippy dress to rule all hippy dresses:
(Yes, Toby has his space heater out already.)

Pattern: Hippy dress from France, modified a lot--I took about seven inches of fullness out of the back and adjusted the sleeve pieces in order to raise the neckline.

Fabric: Liberty of London "My Little Star"

Verdict: Awesome. I haven't been worn stars and comets on my clothing since a Rainbow Brite t-shirt in 1985.

It's Monday

We need a sonnet:

Vertigo
by Adrienne Rich

As for me, I distrust the commonplace;
Demand and am receiving marvels, signs,
Miracles wrought in air, acted in space
After imagination's own designs.
The lion and the tiger pace this way
As often as I call; the flight of wings
Surprises empty air, while out of clay
The golden-gourded vine unwatered springs.
I have inhaled impossibility,
and walk at such an angle, all the stars
Have hung their carnival chains of light for me:
There is a streetcar runs from here to Mars.
I shall be seeing you, my darling, there,
Or at the burning bush in Harvard Square.

Friday Unrelated Information

1. Speaking of rats, I just found out that they're being used to sniff out landmines leftover from conflicts in Africa. They don't weigh enough to trigger the mine and their sense of smell is as good as a dog's. Also, they're called HeroRats. Awww!

2. Sunday at 8:00, the organ fest at the Cathedral of the Madeleine starts. It goes bi-weekly through the beginning of November, but the organist this Sunday is from Notre-Dame in Paris.

3. And here's James Dean in glasses with a kitten. What more do you need? Nothing!

Ratty!

My suspicions of an r-a-t visiting the spilled food underneath the bird feeder were confirmed last night. I spent about fifteen minutes thinking I had to get rid of the rat, now, because...it's a RAT! But then I realized a few things:

1. Quail, doves, a blue jay, a family of raccoons, and a family of squirrels that live under the neighbor's garage all visit the yard. None of those bother me.

2. I know I don't have rats inside my house. Toby is probably a good guarantee that I never will.

3. The rat sat up bravely and watched me with its little face and it looked JUST LIKE THIS:



So enjoy the sunflower seeds, Ratty. But stay out of sight of sight of the landlord because I doubt he has a laissez-faire policy for rats.

Well Said, Dr. Sagan

I have a foreboding of an America in my children's or grandchildren's time--when the United States is a service and information economy; when nearly all the key manufacturing industries have slipped away to other countries; when awesome technological powers are in the hands of a very few, and no one representing the public interest can even grasp the issues; when the people have lost the ability to set their own agendas or knowledgeably question those in authority; when, clutching our crystals and nervously consulting our horoscopes, our critical faculties in decline, unable to distinguish between what feels good and what's true, we slide, almost without noticing, back into superstition and decay.

From The Demon-Haunted World, 1996. Reading this and then going to yoga and talking about the infinite heart and how we're all made of love is a recipe for cognitive dissonance. (Although we are made of star stuff.)

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.