analog me

Egg dying Miscalculation

I don't know what I was thinking about keeping boys occupied for a week dying eggs. Two moms, two boys and a girl went through 3 1/2 dozen eggs and two egg dying kits in about 2 hours. And that included the time it took to send the kids to a convenience store to buy an extra dozen eggs and boil them.

As always, the most beautiful is the unexpected, like Marco's transparent wax cray on a light brown egg dyed green (above). Or this: 

 Maybe I do need to get the psyanky kit out, and set up a more labor-intensive, time consuming process.

Apparently Staedtler changed their ink formula, because the pen I just bought is permanent on paper, but not eggs. I just can't believe their lab didn't test it on eggshell! Anyway, just in case you want to try it, a better choice is the Faber-Castell PITT artist pen.

 

I remembered a friend's tip that you can exhaust the left-over egg dye and color protein-based (wool or silk) yarn with it. So I had some fun with that and turned my hands a really unlovely shade of monster green in the process. I'll try and post the results soon. The yarn results not the ugly cuticles.

Decorating Eggs

It's always seemed unfair to me that Spring Break in Minnesota is a time of Sepia-toned boredom.  Last year we decided to enliven things by going to Chicago. I guess the whole Midwest had the same idea because I met many of my children's classmates in the hours of standing in long lines to get into packed museums.

This year I have no plans, but a secret weapon. Easter eggs.

Apparently, my sons' share my genetic predisposition to want to decorate an ovoid, and then a dozen more. I always forget how much they like it until I buy one of those cheesy egg dying kits, and they grab it like it's a bag of barbecue potato chips something. 

I have always been like this. When I was little we raised chickens and had plenty of nice, brown eggs. But I preferred white eggs for my canvas, and made my parents buy the huge 18 packs of industrial eggs. 

My sophomore year in college I lived near a Ukrainian church and discovered pysanky. I bought a kit in that church basement and then pretty much only left my house to buy more eggs for about two weeks after that. My best friend was (is) a nice Jewish girl who had absolutely no immunity to the attractions of decorating Easter eggs with pagan symbols, so she became an egg-decorating addict too. We stopped writing papers and made some real pretty eggs.

I still have that kit, but I don't dare take it out again.

Last year my eldest son discovered that a Staedler permanent pen  can be used to decorate an egg an then dyed over. His eggs reminded me of old transfer-printed china especially this design inspired by one of my favorite tea cups.

 

I'm still partial to wax, so I like to draw on a hot-out-of-the-pan egg with crayons then dye them.

 

We have also found that the brown eggs are great for dying most colors because you actually get a deeper color.

So it's Monday, I have a week of break ahead, and  BOTH my boys are out of the house. I think I need to make another egg and dye run. 

Ironing Board Archaeology

I found my ironing board in the basement of an old duplex I once lived in. Because it was grubby, I put a new cover on it. I repeated this a few times without ever stripping the old layers off. 

Lately I have been reading a lot of vintage sewing books and they all insist that a well-padded board is one of the secrets to mastering "the fascinating art of pressing." I knew my pressing was not fascinating and so I began to worry that my ironing board was to blame. I took a peek and found three old covers on top of the pad.

 

The bottom cover and pad were scorched. Obviously, all this had to go.

 

Down to the bare bones.

 

 Then I followed one book's advice and recovered it with a couple layers of quilt batting and moleskin (nap facing down). For the top I used a piece of fabric that makes me happy. Because I didn't want to cut this fabric up I just pinned it on and used some of these to hold it on. It wasn't quite big enough, as you can see, but it works.

  I have to admit it is easier to press now. I still don't find it all that fascinating.

These books insist that I also need a pressing ham, needle board, sleeve board, tailor's mitts and a pounding block set up next to my sewing machine. Maybe once I have all those things I will become enthralled with pressing.

New couch

The first piece of furniture my husband and I purchased was a couch: or should I say "the couch." For many years we had moved almost annually, shedding old furniture as we packed up our station wagon and homesteaded new apartments. Then we bought a house, next a real couch. Then we reproduced. 

As sleep-deprived new parents we crashed here. It became a dog bed, a sick bed (where I spent weeks of bed rest), then a fort, a set of giant pillow-blocks, a crash pad, a trampoline. The seat cushions became horses that kids galloped around the house on. 

We didn't have children when we bought it and the fabric wasn't designed for this kind of abuse. It frayed and ripped. The old seat cushions became organ donors: I harvested the inner pillows, zippers and cording and sewed them with new fabric into "new" cushions.

 Obstacle course agility training, high jumping, and skateboard tricks were now practiced on it. It was a desk, an art studio, a meditation space. The frame endured while the stained back cushions sagged, frayed and then ripped open. A dog chewed on the piped pillows. The arm fabric decayed, so I made little arm covers to hide the foam that began to seep out.

So last week when we impulsively bought a new couch I was pretty excited. But, my 10 year old looked at pristine new couch and said, "It's okay, but we're not getting rid of the old one are we? There are a lot of memories in it." The old couch is temporarily in the dining room and he went to read there (for once, being careful not to put his shoes on it).

 

He was right, of course. The new couch looked too new and out of place. It needs some wear and bouncing. In the mean time, I made some pillows for it that look a little rumpled and faded. In my fabric stash, I found a narrow bit of ticking-striped upholstery fabric and some dishtowel linen, a few zippers and some old shell buttons. Just (barely) enough to piece together four new pillows.

I can only hope that as this sofa gets "broken in" and becomes saggy and worn it will fill up with memories. Now, I have to convince the family that the old one must go.

And as a parting thought, just imagine the memories in this throne. 

 

   

Hands on Pantry Salad

I have been trying to get back to an old goal of having some salad on the table for every meal. After I do my big weekly shopping, this is pretty easy. But, as the week wears on, the greens wilt and my salads start to taste fatigued. For awhile I began shopping a couple times a week to have fresh greens, but then my grocery bill seemed to double--and just for salad (and a couple other things I needed to pick up).  

So, the other night I tried to come up with a salad made from stuff that hadn't gone sad and I often stand a chance of having on hand throughout the week. The result sort of reminds me of the old Waldorf Salad, but it is a bit lighter and Springier. This salad also fits with my resolution to try not and make things so complicated. And I am avoiding the whole weights and measures issue that seems to plague me by using vegetable units (such as 1 stalk) or amounts that might feel good to your own hand (or mouth!) 

Anyway, I present to you Celery Salad.

Time to make: 5 min or so 

Ingredients:

• Celery stalks (1 per person)
• Walnuts (1 tiny handful for 1 person, a large handful for 4 or thereabouts)
• Green Onion (1 or so per person)
• Grapefruit (about 1/4 per person)
• Olive oil
• Pepper
• Salt 

1. Start by putting a heavy pan on low heat and putting a handful of walnuts in. 
2. While they are toasting, slice the celery very thinly by cutting diagonally across it into ribbon-like shreds. Pull out the annoying stringy bits. If you have the heart, (the celery heart) chop it up too. Spread the celery on a plate. 
3. Chop up the onion and scatter atop. 
4. With a spoon, scoop out grapefruit segments and arrange on top. 
5. Now, remove the walnuts from the heat and break them over the top of the salad with your hands while removing some of the crisp, dark skin that hides in the nut crevices. 
6. Liberally, drizzle some olive oil on top, then pour juice left in the grapefruit over it. A pinch of salt an a few grinds of pepper finish it off.

I'm often the best cook when I am enjoying the whole tactile experience and trying to make the food fit with how I want it to feel in my mouth. When I have to stop and take measurements, that process feels interrupted. But I am wondering: Do you find this kind of recipe liberating--or frustratingly vague in its lack of standardized measures?