Two Things

Most craftiness that takes place around here is fueled primarily by one way of looking at things:  thrift.  Growing up, we were trained by my mother to look at everything with possibilities.  When we opened a new pack of Fruit of the Loom underwear, we didn’t just toss out the piece of cardboard that the underwear was folded around.  We looked at the cardboard first and went, what could we used this perfectly rectangular piece of cardboard for…?

Having three children, limited funds, and CONSTANT school projects, my mom really helped us think creatively.  I remember binding a poetry collection with a placemat that we cut in half and some metal rings, probably because it was just too expensive to buy a new binders for every project.  The book ended up being really cool and much more interesting than a generic binder.  

Unfortunately, the dark side of any craftiness is the desire to just get the thing finished already.  Which is why I took some of the tiniest bits of piecing I have ever done, and haphazardly machine quilted stripes across the whole thing, instead of taking the time to finish the project in a way that would, I don’t know, look nice.  

A sewing machine cover seemed like a waste of time, until I had two boys who would, on a whim, pull out all my thread or draw on my sewing machine with Sharpie when I wasn’t in the room.  It made sense to add a layer of protection for times when I didn’t want to pack up my machine in its case.

Then I sewed the binding on by machine instead of hand, which I know I’m terrible at. 

Looks awesome.

The highlight is the back:  chain bikes.

The good news is that the thrifty mindset is here to stay, and the FINISH IT ALREADY! can be improved upon, evidenced by the fact that I at the very least recognize that sewing is 90% ironing.  Lesson learned from this project that finished up terribly:  keep fighting the quick finish.

Hurricane [Name is Still a Secret]

In the cruel hours of pregnancy insomnia, I’ve been trying to figure out the most accurate natural disaster metaphor to illustrate preparing for and having a baby.  It’s not a tornado or an earthquake due to the lead time that you get during pregnancy.  Also, in the case of an earthquake, it’s not something that I’m so afraid of that I won’t book a plane ticket to California.  A hurricane is a closer fit, because there is warning and time to empty out your freezer (or in this case, fill it).  But nothing about clearing out tree branches or sitting on the porch waiting for the electricity to come back on really works, except for the excessive sweating.

Then I realized: having a baby isn’t a hurricane when you live an hour from the coast.  It’s a hurricane when you live right on the beach, the dirty side is going to pass right over your house, and you choose not to evacuate.

Right now I’m the guy on the news with a cigarette and a bag of Tostitos, saying, “It’s not my first hurricane and it probably won’t be my last.”  Soon I’m going to be the person who is terrified and strapping my self to an Igloo ice chest at two in the morning to try to stay afloat while the roof is ripped off my house and water simultaneously rises up through the floor.  At some point you’ll see me back on the news, disheveled, drinking a beer (it’s good for your milk supply!) and mostly incoherent.  The kindhearted will bring food, bags of ice, and a huge box of second-hand shoes that I’ll have to deal with at some point.  A few months later, I’ll be scrubbing the mold out of my shower, because while the disaster relief crew that brings your children stuffed animals showed up to help, the one who scrubs bathroom mold went to the bigger city with better press coverage.

A year or two later, when we’ve rebuilt our home, the details of the hurricane will be a distant memory, worth it because we get to live at the beach.

Salad Award

While spending the better part of the afternoon on the couch, I kept thinking, why am I so tired?  I should get up and do something.  Then all of a sudden I remembered, ah yes, I’m nine months pregnant.  Thank God for a well worn couch and teenage dystopian fiction.

Interesting that when you start searching Google for Brazoria County Library, Brazoria County Jail comes up first every single time.  Hopefully that’s alphabetical and not the state of society. 

When I was in college and working at a summer camp, I ate lunch one day with one of the wranglers.  Ever since that day, I periodically think of him in terms of The Salad Award, meaning that I mentally assign him The Salad Award for his use of the camp salad bar.  His trip to the salad bar produced a salad consisting of croutons, cheddar cheese, and ranch dressing.  Done.  If you’re picturing that on top of lettuce, don’t.  Three ingredients:  croutons, cheese, ranch.

That story is not related to anything.  It was just an amazing salad. 

x + y = ?

Kate recently posted something on facebook about the challenges of trying to learn some pi related formula in order to sew a witch’s hat for Halloween.  I feel that I generally run about 2 years behind Kate, so if she’s wearing army pants and flip flops today, she looks great and too cool for me.  Then in two years, I’ll finally get army pants and flip flops.  But at this very moment, I’m right with her on the math.

Right now, the complicated math behind even the most seemingly basic sewing or craft project is quite possibly going to make my brain explode.  I can’t figure out what the problem is, because I’m pretty sure I used to be good at math.  Brain, stop trying to impress Aaron Samuels and figure out how to allow for seam allowances when trying to sew two triangles from a square!  With a quick brush up, I could probably do derivatives today, but calculus is probably the most useless thing I learned in school.  Who is using that- astronauts?  Where are you now geometry?   

Speaking of astronauts, I finally made it to the International Quilt Festival Houston.  Every year I vow to go at all costs, then every year something comes up that trumps it, my niece’s baptism or a Guy Fawkes party.  This year was a long, clear Saturday morning all to myself.  A highlight of the day was picking up information about the quilt block challenge with Astronaut Karen Nyberg, currently on the space station, who made a star quilt block in space.  The challenge is for anyone else to make a star themed quilt block to send in to be joined together for a huge (or many huge) star themed quilt for next year’s quilt festival.  You had me at astronaut.

My square was inspired by Hubble telescope photographs, meaning that I looked at some photos before digging into my scraps.  Photos of space are God’s way of hinting that when we die and pass on, we’re going to look around at whatever’s next and go, I was way off.

Last night I commented to Trent (measure carefully at least twice, cut once) that it must be so interesting to start a project with a visual goal in mind.  I (eyeball it, cut four times, use a seam ripper, cut three more times) start all my projects wondering how it’s all going to turn out in the end.  I thought that star on the quilt block was going to be eight of the nine and a half inches.  Sewing math strikes again.

You Try to Make One Phone Call…

When school supplies were on sale, regular Crayola markers were $1/box and washable Crayola markers were substantially more, possibly $2.50? Obviously, go for the regular markers. 

It’s hard to make a clear ‘don’t ever do this again’ point when you can’t stop laughing.  There are so many bigger messes that could have happened.  I’ll take marker faces over a spilled glass of milk almost any day.