Aubergine

Handmade gifts: 6 gifts to make (in an hour or more)

This was going to be a weekly feature in November, but life happened and I got interrupted.  So where was I?  Oh, right, making gifts in every shortening periods of time.  Here is a set that I think will take a bit over an hour, but hopefully less than three.  An evening's work, after the baby is in bed - that's how I measure my time these days!

1. Folding travel tote

Can you believe I have a Martha Stewart tutorial on a list of "just about an hour" crafts?  Truly, though, this one is pretty straight forward.  Though intended as a travel tote for gadgets and cords, it could be used as a journaling kit, a wrap for jewelry or an on-board drawing kit for a child.

2. Tee-shirt flowers

That is, flowers made from tee-shirts, or any other knit fabric.  Apply them to clips or a headband, apply a pin-back to make a brooch, or group them together on the side of a cute bag or on a belt.  The possibilities are endless!

3. Sock owl softie

This is the re-use edition of this series apparently.  Make a cute softie owl from a sock!  Gotta love cleaning out the onsie socks and making gifts at the same time!

 4. Lip balm

I've made lip balm for gifts a couple of times and they have always been really well received.  This can be a time-comsuming project, so I recommend you split it in two parts.  Clean and set up your containers and prep the ingredients in the first session, then do the heating, mixing and filling in a second session.  Use essential oils for scent.  Try some fun and unusual combinations - chocolate and rose absolute, or grapefruit and mint.  Yum! 

5. Bandana cowl

You'd have to be a fast knitter to finish bandana-shaped cowl in an evening, which I am not particularly. But knit with bulky yarn, it will go pretty fast.  It is a nice unisex pattern, too.

 6. Jacket hooks from cool knobs

This last one is not a tutorial, just an idea, so I'm counting it as a bonus.  I love this jewelry-hanging rack made from knobs attached to a board.  I'm envisioning it scaled up, though - cool old door knobs for a jacket hanger.  And really, who doesn't need an excuse to take a field trip to Anthropologie or Restoration Hardware to look at cool drawer pulls?

 

November

I had such good intentions of writing every single day this month.  And I started strong.  I was enjoying it, the quest to find a topic every day, practicing the muscle of finding the words to pin down my thoughts.  It felt good.  And the exercise was helping me to shake out new ideas, more each day than I could use so that I could string them forward into other projects, next month, set aside for when I had more time to dig deeper.

But then my grandfather died and I dropped everything and flew to Canada.  And then I brought the flu home with me and the whole household has been staggering under it.  And then the rains came and I feel my energy winding down.  And here I sit in the middle of the last full week of the month and wonder what happened to November.

I love and hate you, November.  This is the month that starts out warm and cozy and ends cold and wheezing. It always goes faster than I expect and then the holidays are upon me and I'm unprepared.  My birthday is at the end but I'm always so worn out by the time it arrives that I just want it over and done with so I can sleep.  And by the time I catch my breath again it is the middle of December and Christmas is looming and I haven't planned gifts and the ones that need to be mailed are already late and I decide yet again that I won't be doing cards this year and I swear that next year I will be more organized and more prepared and more rested and it will be better.

I don't think my skidding slide to the end of the year actually has anything to do with poor organization or lack of preparedness.  My energy is low these months and it always will be.  I plan too much and my expectation are too high and I cannot keep up with it all. Perhaps I have not fully adjusted my expectations to my energy level.  Perhaps I still hold on to things I think I should be doing rather than things I want to do.  Do I really want to make and send Christmas cards?  Maybe a little.  But more I would like to make cookies with my family and have an ornament-making craft night, and have quiet evenings with a fireplace and a movie and my knitting. I want to savor this season and not fight it so much every year.

I am hosting Thanksgiving this year and it will be potluck.  I'm having to let go, over and over, of the idea of the perfect meal I *could* cook and keep myself to the two dishes I said I would make.  Others can bring the rest. I could make amazing stuffing but it would take me all day to make and make me too tired to enjoy the meal. The part I want is the community around the table, a glass of wine in my hand, laughter flowing.  Let the stuffing go.  Let go. Let go. Let go.

Rowland Skirrow, 1920-2011

My grandfather died today.  Two days before his 91st birthday.

My grandfather grew up very poor and told stories of going to collect free food and clothes from the charities in the winter of Northern England when he was a child. He quit school after the 7th grade and became a cabinet maker, apprenticed to a master craftsman.  He was proud of his trade and good at it.  My mother has a set of furniture in her bedroom that he made when she was a teenager and they look nearly as good now as when they were new.  My grandfather met my grandmother on a train during World War II when they were both coming home on leave and he took her suitcase so she would come home and meet his mother.  She was six months his senior and he told her he was going to marry her that day.  They were married for 66 years.  They immigrated from England when my mother was a year and a half old. When life on his aunt's chicken ranch didn't turn out to be quite what they had envisioned he packed up his little family and drove them across the country to San Francisco, where he swore he felt at home as soon as he arrived.

My grandfather was a hard man - proud bordering on arrogant, impatient, with deeply rooted class prejudices.  He loved his family fiercely, but held them to impossibly high standards that were sometimes inconsistent and hardly ever clearly communicated.  He was prone to jealousy and temper tantrums.  He never could truck with most authority figures.  He had worked so hard to control and manage his whole world his whole life and when his body started to break down with age he did not accept it gracefully.  He fought and complained and raged and he often turned on those closest to him - his wife, my mother.  My grandparents retired to a lovely community on Vancouver Island, a thousand miles from their children and their children's children. Then he was angry that we did not re-arrange our lives more often to come to them when they became lonely and frail. His death was swift - he was fine in the evening and felled by a particularly virulent pneumonia by the next afternoon.  My mother sat beside him and held his hand while he weakend and finally let go. 

My relationship with my grandfather has been distant and painful for many years, though I regained "good grandchild" status this year by virtue of bearing his first great-grandchild.  When I spoke to him on the phone last week he didn't remember that we had visited him in June and chided me that my daughter would be 14 before he'd get to meet her.  He also expressed concern that I wasn't working.  "You can't just have no job for too long," he said.  Both his wife and his daughter chose to stay at home with their small children, but I guess he saw me as a career woman and he never understood why I left my "good job."  I hung up the phone with such mixed feelings - annoyance, frustration, and also tenderness for his concern, misguided though it may have been.  I can't remember if I told him I loved him.  I hope he knew.  I hope he remembered the times I leaped into his arms when I saw him and held his hand when I was waist high and his memory was strong more than he remembered our turbulence more recently.

When I was 23 I was the spitting image of my grandmother at the same age, but I see more of my grandfather in myself.  My intense work ethic, my high standards for myself and for the world, my skill and desire to make things by hand. In many ways he is an inspiration and I'm proud to be his granddaughter.

Rest peacefully, Granddad.  I hope heaven is all you expected it would be.

Dreams of houses

I have been dreaming recently of houses.  Rambling and opulent houses, where I round a corner and find a whole new wing that I didn't know existed.  In one dream an attic room that went on and on and on. 

Dream houses are symbolic of the self and I'm told that these house dreams are about me finding whole new sides and aspects of myself and attempting to integrate them into my consciousness. 

Well, yes.  I had a baby a few months ago.  I think it is safe to say that I'm finding some new sides of myself.  What's most interesting to me about these dreams is how excited I am by all the rooms, all the space, all of it.  In my waking life I'm similarly excited by the new me that I'm getting to know.  I like this mom self.  She's fun and silly and patient and very loving. She is bigger and more comfortable than I expected.  And so real and satisfied by the work of mothering. But also I feel sad for the old me that feels so far away.  The one who painted and read books and thought about things for more than 29 seconds.  The one who ran a department and made decisions that impacted big business.  The one who had an active and intellectual brain.

In a book I read recently the author talked about how her post-partum depression was not immediately after her daughter was born but began when she was nine months old.  It wasn't that the act of mothering was depressing, but the limiting nature of focusing the majority of your attention within your home, and the monotony of feeding, bathing, entertaining, doing laundry, sleeping and then getting up and doing it all over again and again and again begins to numb your brain.  When that brain, in a previous life, was engaged in creative, active thought, waking up to realize you haven't thought about anything more important than how to get the baby to eat more vegetables or what brand of diapers to purchase is shockingly depressing. And reading that passage I knew exactly what she was talking about.  My daughter is nine months old and I am there.  I need more than just the mothering to feed me.

Last night I dreamed I lived in a house where all the rooms were too small.  The bed stuck out of the door into the hallway and the visitors had to climb over the couch to come in the front door.  The dream dictonary says that too-small houses are about frustration or feeling like some part of myself is not developed.

Today I started listening to NPR in the car while I drive the baby to and fro.  It isn't much, but it is the first step in reclaiming my brain back for myself.

Off the bookshelf: November

I'm thinking this isn't going to be a very interesting feature if I don't find a little more reading time.

I did finish The People of the Book that I said I had started in October, but I returned both Will Write for Food and The Unexpected Son to the library without finishing them.  I'll probably check both out again another time.  

Here are the two books I managed to finish: 

State of Wonder, Ann Patchett

This was a book club selection, which we picked after reading and loving Patchett's Bel Canto a few years ago. Like that book, this one has a surprisingly simple but original storyline.  The beauty is in the details.  My partner traveled in the Amazon last spring and the lovely descriptions (of sometimes quite unlovely things) encountered in the jungle were even more vivid for me having seen his photos and listened to his descriptions.  

My book group jokes that we really only read books as an excuse to get together and eat because we actually spend so little time discussing the books we've read.  Usually we are well into dessert before we get around to it.  But we were already talking about this one before we sat down at the table.  We loved its twists and turns and surprising characters.  One of our members said she always knows what's going to happen in a book, and she did with this book, too, except she that was always wrong.  I highly recommend this one.

A Double Life: Discovering Motherhood, by Lisa Catherine Harper

 I read State of Wonder as an ebook on my iphone and it was a revelation to me.  I could read while I was putting the baby to bed!  I could read a few pages while she was eating!  If not for ebooks, I would have read no books this month.  A Double Life is actually a book I purchased when The Bean was a newborn, but had then immediately forgotten about (a downside of ebooks - you can't see the stack of them waiting for you!) I found it again late one evening when I had just finished State of Wonder and The Bean was still not quite asleep.  

The double life refers to the before and after split of "before baby" and "after baby."  I was fascinated to read another mother's take on this, as that divide is something I have been struggling to make peace with. As it turns out, many of Harper's experiences, from pregnancy and labor through the mothering of a small girl, run parallel to mine.  I enjoyed reading her account, but even more it made me want to write down my experience.  I have been, in bits and snatches, but I am ready to do it more seriously after reading this book. 

The two books I'm partially through:

Well-Fed Writer: Financial Self-Sufficiency as a Commercial Freelancer in Six Months or Less, by Peter Bowerman

 As part of my ventures into writing for pay, I'm looking at business writing as an income stream.  This book is regarded as THE book on the topic, and indeed it is chock-full of good information.  In fact, so much of it that I'm currently bogged down in the middle of Chapter 5 with a full-on case of overwhelm.  I took a break to actually, you know, pitch some businesses.  Out of theory and into practice.  Highly recommended if this is a field of interest.  I don't recommend reading it in PDF on your iPhone, though, which is what I'm doing.  It is very small.

Crafting the Personal Essay, by Dinty Moore

 This book has been on my shelf for quite some time, but I pulled it back out again this month as I was working on some essays and feeling like I didn't know enough about the form to figure out what was not working in my writing.  I've only read the first chapter, but I can see that it is going to be a great resource.  The auther is a teacher who has a course on the topic, and it shows that he has spent a long time presenting this material.  I also really like that he intersperses writing prompts and jump-off points in the material.  Indeed I did need to put the book down and go write out a couple of essay ideas and an outline.  This one is in actual book form, so it may take me longer to get through.

And one more I'm just starting.

Dressmaker of Khair Khana, by Gayle Tzemach Lemmon

 This book is not only in paper form, but in hardback.  I've been carrying it around in my diaper bag, but the only time I managed to crack the spine was to tuck some other papers inside the cover for safe-keeping.  This is our book group selection for December, and it was recommended by the member whose taste for books seems to be close to my own, so I am looking forward to reading it.  It is set in Kabul under Taliban rule and is is a true story about a woman entrepreneur and her fight to support herself and her sisters under a regime that did not recognize women as individuals or business-owners.  It should be fascinating.

 

What are you reading this month?

** Book links are affiliate links to Bookshop Santa Cruz.  Help support my local bookstore (and me)! 

 

just like this

It has been nine months and one week since we sat here just like this, you with your guitar, me curled into the corner of the couch with my knitting.  That night you played through your entire repertoire of love songs while I timed contractions.  I didn't tell you what I was doing until you wound down the music, fingers aching from the strings.  I wasn't ready.  I wanted the timer to be wrong.  I wanted them to ease and spread apart and wait a few more days. I wasn't ready to give up the sweetness of just us two alone in the house on a winter night doing two of our two favorite things.  

Tonight I sit next to the baby monitor and hope your music doesn't wake her, but I don't want you to stop.  Tonight it is just as sweet as that night, maybe sweeter yet.  Sweeter for the baby who sleeps down the hall who didn't come so quickly after all, sweeter for the luxury of setting aside our tasks and chores and to-dos for the evening and doing instead those things that feed us.

link love: November 5

My kid is only 9 months old but I'm already thinking about homeschooling:

• Schools give high achievers the shaft {GOOD}

 

Reading about writing for money while I procrastinate writing new queries:

• 5 Ways to Pollute the Web with Crappy Content {Emily Seuss}

• Four clients every freelance writer needs {Freelance.Outright} 

• Five Reasons Not to be Afraid of a Freelance Career {Grow with Stacy} 

• Does your Craft Book Proposal Stand Out? {Craft Buds} 

 

Better my blog (see above about procrastinating):

• 100 Women Bloggers You Should Be Reading {Ignite Social Media} 

• 10 Great Places To Take Self Portraits {Vivienne McMaster} 

 

Handmade gifts: 5 gifts to make in a weekend

On my way to Halloween festivities this week I drove by a guy hanging Christmas lights on his house.  There's no denying it, the holidays are right around the corner.  And if you are someone who likes to make gifts from scratch, like I do, that means it is time to get to work.

This month I will be running a series of craft tutorial round-ups.  Things that have caught my eye and some things that might just end up wrapped up under my own tree.  Since we have a full 50 days until Christmas still, this week I have some crafts that may take a while.  If not a whole weekend, at least a part of it.  I'll have quicker crafts for you procrastinators (I'm talking to myself here) as the month goes on.

 

1. Tote bags 

Skip To My Lou ran a round up of 10 tote bags last year that I really liked. Several feature re-use of fabric items and all are quick and free.  Love that!

 

2. Fabric memory game

Purl Bee is one of my favorite places to get gift ideas.  Unfortunately even their "easy" projects are generally time-consuming.  This fabric memory game is no exception, but at least it is within the realm of reason for a gift for a special kid or a family of kids to share. Reading through the pattern I wonder if it would be a little faster to use fusible interfacing to adhere the pattern fabric to the felt block rather than cut a window out of the felt, but I'm like that with the cutting of corners.  

 

3. Bleach pen tees

I love this idea: Using a bleach pen to draw a design on a colored shirt. The Show, Tell, Share Blog uses freehand folk designs, but you could write words, trace patterns or drawings, or whatever your heart desires.  She also includes a link in the post to other bleach pen craft ideas.  

 

4. Faux antiqued glass vases or votives

This Design Sponge tutorial is by far the most complicated in this set, but the elegant results are worth the effort.  This is a great way to re-use some of the nicer glass jars I've been hoarding.

 

5. Rosewater body lotion

This delicious lotion is another Design Sponge feature. It is actually quite easy, hardly a weekend's work, but if you were going to make it in a big batch the set up and clean up might take you a bit.  If you are giving the lotion as a gift (rather than hoarding it all for yourself, not that I would do that or anything), it would be a good idea to use the suggested preservatives.  Check the comments for sources for the ingredients and those cute Weck jars.

That's it for this week.  Next week, projects that you can make in just a few hours.

Right now

The house is quiet; baby sleeping, man and teenager out, cats napping in the garage.  It is that hour of the morning when the neighbors are all at work and school and the street is quiet and calm.  The delivery trucks trundle up and down, but I am alone and it is quiet.

It is cold this morning and I pulled out fuzzy socks and a wool cardigan after flipping on the heater in the bedroom and tiptoeing away from the bed.  The kettle ticks while my mullien tea steeps.  I'm trying not to breathe too deeply lest I set off another hacking coughing fit. My toes are still cold in my socks.

I have so many things needing my attention today.  I'm still unpacking, I have an article to research, queries to craft, papers to sort, bills to pay, surfaces to clear and wipe down.  Another basket of the never-ending laundry. Plants to water, toys to put away, trash to take out, food to cook.  My brain is fuzzy still from jet lag. Or maybe from sick, or maybe both.  I feel parched, hollowed, removed from myself.  Dull.

This nap time is so precious, because she is not a napper.  I never know how long it will last.  Sometimes she wakes almost as soon as I leave the room and I return to her kneeling at the side of the bed, grinning at me, ready to play.  Other times she sleeps for an hour or two or three and I find myself unsure of what to do.  What to start, when you don't know how long you have?  What tasks can be abandoned in the middle and picked up again later?  Do I work or do I goof off?  Do I simply sit and hold the quiet, tea steaming, pen scratching across the page?

Making room for writing

The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible.  ~Vladimir Nabakov

In the midst of this life I am living, with a baby still at the age where she is intent on bashing in her head or choking on something in addition to refusing to nap, a partner who works far away and for long hours, a garden that needs tending, kittens to keep out of trouble and a household to keep running, I am committing to write.  And so I have begun the process of finding room.  

It is not unlike the process of moving a rather large piece of furniture into an already full house. Will it fit here, in this room?  What if I move that, turn this sideways, stack these up there?  What if I give away the ratty old chair and move the lamp like this?  What can I let go of to make room for this?  

I have talked to other writers who are mamas about how they make room for their work.  Some have given up television (did that years ago, no space there).  Some step back from housework, simplify the cooking or commit to eating take out just a bit more often.  Some hire help in the form of babysitting or housecleaning or shopping delivery. Some lean more heavily on their partners, take a half day during the weekend, or one night a week.  Some trade time with other moms. Most sleep less whether that means staying up very late or getting up very early. All of them say there is never enough and they are always tired.    

Mostly it is about utter focus and dedication.  And lists.  Always know what you can do in the amount of time you have to do it, and know what needs to be done at any given time.  In five minutes I can answer 2 or 3 emails, follow up on a couple of open queries, jot down a list of ideas in my notebook.  In 15 I can outline an essay and in 30 I can write a thousand words.  They will be written badly, but in another 30 I can edit and revise them. I always have a notebook with me and my brain is always working in the background.

This is a whole new way of looking at creativity than I had in my old life.  I had no idea what a luxury time was and I cringe at how much of it I wasted on doing nothing in all of my child-free years.  I have no time now for wrestling with my muse.  She needs to shut up and sit down because I have only 1 hour and 5 things to accomplish.  No time for worrying if my work is good enough.  It is done, therefore it is good enough.  

The new furniture isn't in quite the right place yet - I'm still stubbing my toes when I walk by in the dark - but it is in the door and it is here to stay.