analog me

How do you take a photo of the falling snow?

This is the best I could manage. The blurs are big snow-clumps.

I was working on a project in the dismal indoor light and hoped to take at least take a good final product photo outside. Then as I finished, I saw that the drizzle was turning to snow. Stepping outside, I could hear it: big chunks of wet snow crashing against the fall leaves. It was so heavy that instead of floating down it was hurling down and splating on the pavement. Sort of cool. Even the birds seemed a little excited: they were trying to find sheltered spots and making a lot of noise, not birdsong, more like birdfuss. Anyway, the outdoor photo shoot is out.

So I had to get a little bit creative and set up a studio on the porch for the newest project:

 

a gift bag made from scraps.

A lot of my fabric is irreplaceable. Not that because it is ultra-rare and exclusive, but because I buy it at garage sales, or people give me stuff they don't want anymore, or it is discontinued. So I can't go out and buy more. For years this meant that I could barely bring myself to cut into my stash at all, but now it means that I hoard all the leftover bits. I know that I'm not going to be making a postage stamp quilt anytime soon, so for now I am trying to think of projects that use up the odd bits that are too small for most uses.

The strange thing is that I really enjoy working with limitations. Sometimes I come up with good  ideas under a deadline or with other constraints. When I'm cooking, an odd collection of ingredients (which could spoil) forces me to invent.  With materials like fabric that never "go bad", It can be the challenge of not tossing out the scraps that pushes my creativity. 

For full directions go to my how-to section. And let me know how your scrap project turns out.

I think I might need a model.

After the success of the T-shirts-to-skirt and the shirt-to-apron projects in the last few weeks, I decided to make something for myself that I actually need. I had a rather simple idea to turn one of my husband's old plaid shirts into a smaller shirt for myself with ruffles on either side of the button band.  I have been thinking about the project for awhile and had a pretty clear idea of what I wanted to do, which might explain why I ended up doing something completely different.  

The shirt was way too big for me so I thought I would have a lot of leftover fabric to make some the ruffles. Strangely, after cutting the shirt down, I just had a collar, a pocket, some eliptical bits from the former hem and two armpits. Anyway, I had already made the other design in my imagination, so I ended up using the former bottoms as asymmetrical flounces folding over the buttons to one side. I added a lot of top stitching in green and orange to perk up the drab olive color.

I finished it this morning. Since it's a sunny day, I thought I could photograph it in the backyard. Sadly, I haven't figured out how to be the designer, stylist, model and photographer. First I took some pictures of myself scowling with concentration. (Ackk!  do I really look like that? crap.) These were quickly deleted. Then there were some odd photos of random parts of the shirt, my neck and face. This was the best.

I then decided to balance the camera on a pile of wood and set the timer to get a better shot. My brother seems to get great timer shots that way. Oops. 

Yikes! Damn! 

 Won't focus. Shit, I bent this thingy by the lens. grr. Damn, damn damn.

If the kids did this I would kill them!  Must be more accepting of other's mistakes.

Hmm. . .  I'll bend this back. Zoom/wide/zoom/wide. bend, bend.  It's focussing again? yay, I fixed it!

Who needs models? If I just get the dog out of the way. . .

A Murder of Crows

Number Two Son has decided that we need to have better Halloween decorating this year. Usually, I wait until a couple of hours before the trick-or-treaters are due and then create a big, messy, haunted house look with lots of fake spider webs. Sometimes the only pumpkins I can find are soft with rot, and then we have to make do with this look.

 That (former) state of affairs-- I have been informed-- is lame.

This year, he insists we create a Halloween scene that could make Martha Stewart weep with envy; not that Martha Stewart would ever be in our neighborhood or anything. But, we need to show the neighborhood kids we are aware of the importance of decorating! We must stand proud as we hand out candy! (It appears I have irrevocably damaged his self-esteem with my ignorance of how to create a suitably haunted look.) My son has a vision: we will create a giant moon to hang in a window and then cover the roof with a murder of crows. (Did you know that this is the term for a flock of crows? I didn't until just now.) I suggested we scale it back to a smallish group in the window boxes. Negotiations continue, but when we saw this idea at Martha's site, we decided that we could at least start to make "some" paper mache crows.  

 I haven't made paper mache since grade school, so I got some remedial tips from the lads. Thankfully, it's an art form that has remained unchanged throughout the ages. You still rip up newspaper, drag it through a flour and water paste and wrap it around stuff. It's still really messy and if you don't clean up fast, rock-hard drips will cover your kitchen. 

No matter what you do, the cuffs of your shirt will be crusty. Stray blobs must be picked scab-like from your wrists.  I'm not naming names, but some wise children strip down to their underwear. 

It's cold and rainy today so the creatures are drying in a warm oven. Strangely, the smell is pizza-like, but opening the door is quite creepy.

We still haven't figured out how to make sturdy legs, but I think they might work. The problem is that it took about about 2 hours to make three crows and two moons, and we still haven't painted and varnished them. So, Number Two Son has another idea: crafting quotas. Every other day, for the next two weeks all household members will be required to make three crows per week. Those who don't craft will lose their rights to claim sugar foods and computer time. 

I suggested that these sanctions would hit him harder than anyone else, so he countered with general craft quotas: everyone must make something every day. Number One Son wonders how he will get his homework done with this onerous crafting workload. I wonder, does making dinner count? No, not unless I bake a dessert with him. 

I guess I am in for two weeks of scraping flour paste off the oven door. 

Whatever the case, there will be a murder of crows.

African fabric

I have a new obsession. 

LOOK at this!

Look at this,

I'm not sure exactly how it got started, but I have to admit something pretty embarrassing. For years, whenever I received those pamphlets asking for the financial support of worthy African assistance projects like this, I always end up scrutinizing the women's clothes.  That's how shallow I am. Maybe the literature is about supporting a fair trade cocoa initiative, or a sustainable skin care cooperative, but there I am thinking, "Why can't I find cloth like that?" I usually donate money or buy the product, but as well as feeling compassion, there is a tiny bit of fabric envy I'm feeling too. (As a friend of my used to say, "Is that good or bad ?" )

Then my friend Mo travelled to Ghana, went to the markets, met the vendors, bought some fabric, brought it back, and GAVE it to me. She found out that some of the different prints have names and mean different things. For example, the chicken print above is called "Happy Family." Don't you love how all the roosters are disembodied, and the mother hen is like the nucleus of some chicken molecule? I keep wondering what it means. 

I find it rather hypnotic.

Anyway, my friend knows all about fabric and so now I know its called wax print fabric, or sometimes Dutch or Holland wax print. Thanks to solving that bit of the puzzle, I have now spent way too many hours with those words in the search box of Google.

Thankfully, there's a catch that's prevented me from exploding my fabric stash: the fabric is sold primarily in 6 or 12 yard lengths. This store is an exception and was the source for this beauty:

I'll show your the finished product soon.

Meanwhile, I'm going to stare agog at my computer screen for awhile. You know where I will be: here, here, here. And for the best drooling: there.

P.S. This made me think of something. Is there is term like "window shopping" (or as the French say, "faire du lèche-vitrine"  or "window licking") for the online version of "just looking?"

Not Quite Ready

For this:

When the weather report predicted freezing temperatures and snow, a lot of us did some last minute harvesting. 

I met my sister for lunch yesterday. Arriving second, I told the hostess I was meeting someone, scanned the restaurant, and then said "There she is. . . the one with the leeks."  They were a truly magnificent bundle. When I left, carrying it over my arm like a bride with a trailing bouquet, I left the scent of allium and thyme in my wake.

This is the second year I have grown leeks and the first year that I started them from seed. Something about growing such a grand looking vegetable makes me feel like a REAL gardener. Since they were so tender and fresh, we ate them steamed in vinaigrette. 

I highly recommend this way of preparing smaller leeks. Just cut in 1 inch lengths and steam until tender. 

Meanwhile, make vinaigrette. My French friend Valerie taught me how and this is what I remember. Rub a bowl with a cut garlic. Put about a teaspoon of Dijon mustard in the bowl and then mix in a few tablespoons of vinegar. (She uses a mixture of apple cider and wine vinegar.) Now start dribbling in some good quality oil (a mixture of olive oil and vegetable oil is nice) while you beat the mixture with a whisk. It will start looking creamy. Add about three times as much oil as vinegar mixing well. Add some salt and pepper to taste.

Put a bunch of this on your leeks.  

Don't skimp. 

Eat while still warm.