Where's that damn muse?

I have been told I need to revitalize my hobbying strategy. Lately my hobbies have included, in no particular order: advanced worrying, budgeting for the weak willed, feeling guilty for spending money, cooking after cooking, trying not to kill plants, and not finishing hats. Also I have been experimenting with frustration and playing zombie computer games.

Yeah, maybe he's right. But I'm sure you guys can sympathize. I have ideas for things I would like to do, but all of them require Bright Shiny Purchases; right now I can't justify spending for anything new. I have lots of great yarn, but don't feel like knitting or crocheting. I have a scanner, printer, camera, thread, modge podge, awesome aluminum tape, altoids tins, nature, a sewing machine that hates me, a needle punch doohicky, perler beads and the more stuff I put on this list the worse I feel for not doing anything with it and/or feeling like there is a need to buy anything ever. Gah! Rampant vicious consumer guilt cycle! I want little projects, not quite instant gratification but something that I can put down when the pastry cream boils over but still want to pick back up when the strawberry tart is done.

Really, though, I want something that is mine. Something that is more than just copying someone else's project. Something that is immune to the critique of others. I read on someone else's blog recently that cooking professionally is the equivalent of saying I love you to complete strangers every day knowing they will never, ever say it back. What I'm looking for right now is a project that lets me say I love you to MYSELF, because I know I will totally reciprocate.

Know the feeling?

Song-a-Day May: Open D tuning!

When it comes down to it, as much fun as Song-a-Day has been, we really are trying to learn stuff about how to play and assemble music. Schmitty picked today to teach me about open D tuning. Basically, it's a different way of setting up the relative tones of the strings so that when you strum all the strings, it forms a D major chord. Likewise, holding down all of the strings on the same fret will produce a chord.

This is neat and useful and makes it super easy to play chords...unless you want to play something other than major chords. In that case, you still have to come up with the right finger positions, which is tricky in part because all of the things you learn about how to form minor chords in standard tuning no longer apply.

Serious stuff, people.

Song-a-Day May: in which we break down into gigglefits

Here we are with nachos and a song that included the chords G, C, D, and (though only briefly) F.

Now that the song-a-day is done, Schmitty is beatboxing along to his internal jukebox, which is playing, "Oh Lord won't you buy me a Mercedes-Benz."

It's a good life.

Song-a-Day May: 100 days

Actually, we've only been at this for 11 days, but, really, who is counting?

Come to think of it, I am. Can you believe we're more than a third of the way through this thing? Time flies when you have a head cold, apparently.

It started raining as the Schmitty and I were trying to work out what to play today, and this is what resulted. We were aiming for something sweet and nostalgic--I'm actually pretty pleased with how this one turned out.

Have you ever had that moment where you feel like you're enclosed in a bubble that exists outside of time and space because everything external to your home is surrounded by the visual and auditory filter created by a slow, steady rain?

Maybe that's just me. I am running a fever, after all.

Clicky.

p.s. The Schmitty would like to apologize for using his favorite John Mayer chord.

you know how some people just can't pull off elegance?

I consider myself in that category. Not that I wouldn't want to, mind. I mean, it's a lovely thing to have people walk in to your home and say, "My what an elegant foy-yay and such a fabulous patina on that armoire!" but these people are not going to be swinging by my apartment any time soon. I mean, first of all, apartment. Not exactly Auntie Mame, either. No, I find myself in a place that has white walls and beige carpet, again, with miniblinds, again. At least this one has a few fun details that make it distinct from my last place. Like stairs. But I do not own. I do not even rent to own. I just rent. And that means I know, with absolute certainty, that at some point all of my belongings will be packed up and moved out, and I'll need the place to return to its white and beige self.

People say I could repaint, but who wants to do that when they are moving out? I could put up curtains, but with the exception of my kitchen there are drywall issues involved. No carpets yet, but I know one day I'll be able to tie the room together. Until then, I'll just have to find other ways of adding a bit of color. Like this:It's amazing what you can do with temporary spray mount and old betty crocker recipe cards. And I can look at things like chicken salad in melon rings every day! Inspirational!

New Year

I had a fantastic day yesterday, getting a tour of some of the better, more interesting and downright perplexing craft supply shops around Portland. I didn't get to have my own yarn spun at Yarnia but I did find some amazing insane old craft magazines at Knittn Kitten (expect vegetable bouquets to appear here in the near future), and some Very Hungry Caterpillar fabric at the Fabric Depot .

That's going to be my kitchen curtains. Seriously, it will be awesome.

But the most inspiring spot was Twisted. I invite all of you to visit me and we'll go there. There are couches, and tea, and wonderful people and they only have one (1!) yarn that has acrylic in it. I couldn't find it. They have patterns all over, books, you can sign up for lessons... and some sock yarn so stunning it made me want to conquer my fear of double pointed needles.

In between my new printer/scanner, my new camera, and the existence of Twisted, I am excited for what I can do this year. But here's the thing. I'm not going to assign myself anything. I'm not going to say now what I will and will not do this year. The only promise I'm going to try and keep is that I will finish the projects I start, in some form or fashion.

I have some old (1902) issues of Good Housekeeping magazine. So many articles and ads on how to keep busy with fabric and paint, home decorating and food. How lucky we are that these things we call "crafts" can be our comfort and solace, inspiration and meditation as they have been for generations before. I wonder if it isn't so much the finished project, but the work itself that is important. After all, how often is it that we keep the work for ourselves? But the time we spend in creation, that is ours, and ours alone.

Save some time for yourself everybody, and fill it with what you love. Happy New Year!

Crafting home

Maybe it is a girl thing. It probably is, something to do with nesting. Although in the car, I wish I had a tape recorder, because HE said he wanted to really pull the house together, to not have anything in boxes, because we've come to far to live like kids in their first apartment. Or at least something like that, I'm paraphrasing.

We still have no furniture, it's on a truck somewhere, and yet, there is already things hanging on the wall. I bought a few plants and pots for the patio and we've discussed furniture placement. Oh, and the spongebob bathroom is mostly set. That came together first.

I have 652 other ideas for what to do here, with immediate finances being my major limiting factor. (Hello! Idiot! It is not cheap to move across country! Put down the awesome stone patio accessories!) Some of those ideas I know to be, well, a little quirky. This time, though, I'm giving myself permission to try them. They may not be things that most people would do in their houses (and some may be failures that I hate) but I'm going to try them anyway, because even though once again we find ourselves renting a space with beige carpet, white walls, and blinds, it's still supposed to be our home.

So maybe its time to live that way.

The ghost in the machine

My sewing machine was my mother's, with all the baggage that you can imagine that brings. My sister and I both learned some of our craft skills from her, and a whole lot more on our own, after she died, when faced with the piles of her unfinished projects. The sewing machine is the only sewing machine I can remember, and the memories are not always happy. Trying to stay still while yet another stupid dress was pinned on me. Her critiquing over my shoulder when I tried to sew something. Fights that usually ended with me giving up, and her taking over to finish whatever it was I was working on.

This is why I give serious thought to my training methods at work.

I take these memories with me every time I lug the heavy thing out of its case and set it up on my dining room table. And the machine objects to me. I know it does. I don't understand it, don't understand why tensioning knobs don't work, how thread can get knotted up inside the bobbin, why I have to keep rethreading the needle at random intervals. It didn't used to act this way.

It hates me.

Still, I manage to turn out some ok looking things. Maybe it has personal pride at stake? I don't know. I made this Japanese style knot bag because I hate a purse but like having something for my wallet and phone on a plane. Not bad, right? It's good you can't see in between the two fabric layers. And it isn't exactly reversible the way the pattern is supposed to be. (Hey, props for taking a picture of my own arm!) But passable enough that I'll use it.

A couple of parts of the machine broke off recently. Kinda important parts like the thing that holds on the foot. I went to Jo-Ann to ask about the existence of replacement parts. A lovely woman called Viking for me after we discovered no such listing for the model in the parts book. New parts, they said, are just not available anymore, even to those who would be able to service it, if I could find someone. The lady at Jo-Ann broke the news. "You're going to have to start looking for a new machine."

I know this will help my sewing. A new machine and I could become at least understanding if not outright friendly. But I'll admit it, I'm not ready for a new machine just yet.

Superior help for hard working hands

Here's a useful little thingy.

My hands are wrecked this week. Completely. It started with a peeler gouge while I was making 250 poached pears. It went on to include some fabulously ugly blistered burns from tuna oil from the guy next to me on the line (Harumph! Indeed!) and some innumerable bumps, dings, cracks and overall dryness all thanks to what one of the sous chefs refers to as "the worst week every year" - and that's counting December. Now, I wouldn't lay claim to any vanity where my hands are concerned, but well, I am a girl. So this is one of my favorite fixes.

In a bowl mix a couple spoonfuls of plain yogurt or cream and a spoonful of honey. Add some ground almonds and a bit of rosewater if you've got it. Slather that on your hands, especially the backs of them, and throw on a pair of powder-free latex gloves. Go about your business for about ten minutes. Toss the gloves, rinse the hands in cool water. You could go all out at this point and moisturize your nails with almond oil and stuff like that but that's all up to you.

It really really helps and is way cheaper than some schmancy hand cream. Also, it tastes good. Don't look at me like that, it does.

I really need to put GIMP on this machine

These jpeg compression nasties are completely unacceptable.
So, naturally, today's thing (does it count as crafty if it just involved flipping bits? Here's hoping yes, as it did take a fair chunk of time to get it just so) has a story behind it.

Current social situation in my life? Complicated would be putting it nicely. But I am trying to figure out how to deal with that while minimizing collateral damage. So I was trying to figure out how best to communicate to people around me about the particular hazards associated with being around me at this moment in time. This was what I came up with. I think it works!

It's amateurish, but still a tempting idea as a t-shirt. Or, you know, a tattoo. On my tongue. So everyone knows precisely what they are in for when they talk to me.

(Perhaps I should add something about staying back by at least 100 feet.)

*sigh*