5! shopping! days! left!

I just read this birthing story, which was really and truly amazing. I feel I would have such a similar experience. And now I don't feel so bad about getting personal.

My DH is off having a ball at a show right now (that is, if Glasslands actually stocks something other than Rolling Rock these days). I am wrapping gifts (sans wrapping paper, mind you, but armed with a copy of the latest Craft magazine) and eating a Crunchie bar that I bought in a tea shop today. While part of me wants to cry at the tragic figure i cut, it is fine, I guess. I do like the Christmas season for the purely selfish reasons of getting pressies and even more, the warm fuzzy feeling getting someone something they actually like! I stress myself out over things like gift-buying, letter-writing, and overall impression-making. So to hit the nail on the head and see my friend Gayle genuinely excited about something I got her would make it all worthwhile. Besides, she is terrible liar, so I would know.

Paul (the DH), I am fairly confident, will like his gifts. He is a man, and therefore needs guidance. I know what he needs before he does. Not for a second do I think that all men are created equal in that sense, but I have known him for a while and I know he likes few things more than being looked after. And a large part of me likes being handy and useful. I wish I could think of another way to put that. It is not selfless at all, either - this is something I get off on. I think it works for us.

This takes me back to our wedding story, which is like a birth story of sorts, which I started writing and will probably post in the upcoming reflective days. It is about two people with very similar ideals and aesthetics, but very different ways of executing them.

A special thank-you to all 4 of the lovely people who bought my creations from Etsy this month. I am still humbled and ultimately energized.

progress in progress

So, I got the notion a week or so ago, to start putting stuff up on my etsy site. I had the lipgloss there for a while, and no one was buying it. Then I saw that a blog I read at work (I love knowing someone nearby is doing something like this) was looking for local crafters to put into a gift guide. I gathered my things, put down one of my wedding tablecloths (I will be blogging about that later this week) as a backdrop, and took dark, fuzzy pictures of a wallet, a hat, and a drumstick case. I uploaded everything, priced it, and sent the link to Icky in Brooklyn (sorry Icky, I’ve no idea about your name. But I totally have a bone to pick with Gersh as well. We’ll talk!).

Well, my shop was featured on the site! I was so proud I blushed. And then the amazing Mr. Guskind mentioned me in a post about the Icky guide. So I felt like to be name-checked twice by two blogs I read on a regular basis was so cool. I felt amazing. I felt so amazing that I went home and made a new drumstick case to liven up the listings in case the Times called. I posted that and work got crazy and then I forgot about my life outside of work.

Then someone bought the drumstick case.

I was dying. I know etsy has been revolutionary for the trade, and for small, emerging craftspeople the world over, but to actually have someone buy something I made? Without even thinking about it too much? I threw up a mishmash of what I had and someone bit. So I immediately went into marketing overdrive and have been trying to come up with a branding and logo strategy to focus my attention. I am proud to say I have since sold another drumstick case (so I might be onto something. I will gladly single handedly supply drummers everywhere with my case, which was actually an on-the-fly Christmas present for my then-boyfriend last year. I mean, I literally sewed it up on Christmas eve morning and hoped for the best. I actually liked that the most of all the gifts I got him. Then we got engaged. Coincidence? No.)

I should also mention the karmic factor in all of this – I had been keeping up with Shannon at Make It and her daily blogging/progress. I was so inspired with the epiphanies she was having that I left a comment, which I never do. And then I actually looked at her store and bought something, because I liked her tag and envelope design. And then I had the first sale. I have long admired the selfless swapping and gifting and support that all the ladies and occasional guy partake in on the crafty blogs I read, and I see the beauty in it. Friendships are forged, progress is made, word gets out. I have never been one to brag, and I am terribly shy, but I will try and be more involved and supportive. I feel like I had nothing to back my name up with before, but now I have a little push that feels huge and wonderful. I still may harbor more cynicism than is normal for a still-20-something, and inherited my mother’s forked tongue, but goddammit, maybe there is hope for me yet.

All this goings on has been why I have not done my holiday ornament swap yet… crap. I actually have the idea already, so I just have to concentrate doing them this week. So ladies of group 41 (I think?), not that I gave out my blog address, but they are in the execution phase! I will get them out by the deadline. Like a true journalist.

setback

This is the look of despair. With a seam ripper.

I knew the entire time that I was sewing the small and large card holder pieces of a wallet I am mass-producing to sell on etsy.com, that they were too small.

I forgot to take into account the seam I would sew when attaching them to the billfold part, and sure enough, I could not coax a credit card nor Metrocard into the pocket of the one I tried to finish. So my 50 small rectangles of fabric, all fused and nowhere to go. I don't even have more fusing to start anew yet. Let alone the sanity.

I am trying to not think about it too much and keep the momentum. I have spent about 24 hours on them at this point - from sketching to patternmaking to color theory to cutting to sewing, ironing, etc. It is a painful process, but I will finish this. The goal is to have 5 of each of the 4 designs I cut pieces for, not counting the faulty pockets. Inventory, baby.

I am reading the Make It blog with aplomb, getting inspiration from her efforts. I can't recall her name, but she is doing a fabulous job. I also love the mention of her local small business resources. I encourage all would-be and even established entrepreneurs to seek out the usually free and completely legit small business services in their city. I know from experience they are staffed by professionals whose sole purpose is to help you help yourself. Sounds silly, yes, but since most of the ideas that come through are garbage, they will be more than happy to help someone with a solid, sound business plan. Or, help you write one if you don't have the foggiest idea how to.

It always amazes me how few people take advantage of the resources available. Those are your taxes, people. And if you want to think of the very good odds that your idea is probably one of the best to come through their doors, you could be up, running, and successful in no time.

the happy homemaker

We asked for a bread machine for the wedding shower.

My mother immediately branded me as a deluded happy homemaker, which apparently hurt her indie sensibilities. Keep in mind this is a woman who reared me with the constant refrain "If your father didn't want kids, we would still be living in Manhattan."

So this weekend I made bread. I started with a regular white loaf with regular white all-purpose flour because we didn't buy bread flour. We bought whole wheat flour, but you need wheat gluten something to make bread with it. The white bread isn't bad, but a little too crumbly and blah. I scored, however, with a olive-herb loaf. It tastes like bread should taste. The texture was much better, too.

In craft news, no one has bought from my etsy shop yet. I should not be that discouraged, as my marketing approach could use some work, but I am having a heard time wanting to get some other things up there if they will just languish as well.

I went on a cleaning spree not too long ago in an effort to refine my craft room. It worked remarkably well, I built shelves, so my things are no longer lining the walls, and I just came across a table I thought would be perfect for my sewing machine. Some one left it out with the trash. I dragged it home and used it as a bedside sick table all last week until my husband opened it and realized it was, indeed a sewing table. The top swings over to double the workspace and an arm comes out the side to hold it up. Unfortunately the vintage Singer that was originally attached to it was no longer there. My newer, plastic model won't sit in the cutout, but it is still one for happy coincidences.

back to business

I am going to try, really, to keep this blog updated. Not so much for musings, but for business - I finally listed something on etsy.com...

Peppermint Hot Chocolate Lip Gloss

thing. The lip gloss is a surprise, since I have spent so much time ... and I don't want to loose momentum. I have to get around to trademarking this jilluaryconceiving and thinking about sewing projects. But we go with what we have, no?

Starting fresh, but first I will try and relay what's been going on:

1. I got a new job (finally). It has helped me understand a LOT about entrepreneurship and business, and selling yourself. It is also very close to home. I will not mention where yet.

2. I got a cat (yay for the mental anguish a girl who wants a cat can conjure up...)









3. I got married. It was beautiful, really. Not horse-drawn carriage and princess bride beautiful, but just a really, really, emotionally charged event.










4. I saw America on the honeymoon, and she is beautiful.










I will be taking my leave now. I have been dealing with a cold that I admittedly allowed to wash over me. I am pretty miserable with my nose half-stuffed, but if it means a nice sick day with someone's special chicken soup...

shit!

I guess I'm not surprised, but that really sucks!

I went to Staten Island...

(Photo of an SI resident from the New York Times)

... and I didn't take any pictures. Trust me, there's not much to see on the island. Sure, Richmond Terrace is a lovely coastal ramble, but once you get to the old salt mines and a long stretch of nothing, it gets a little old, not to mention scary. So you will have to make do with pictures I have ripped from other people's Web sites and some handy links. And take my word for it.

Getting there
Of course we took the ferry, and it was filthy with tourists. It was a cold spring Sunday afternoon, but they were out in droves. The ride is nice. I got as close to the Statue of Liberty as I've ever been, and they sell beer on board. This is about all I would need or want to know before I took the trip.

You're there!
Once you step off the ferry, most people turn around and go home. My intrepid friend and I decided to take a walk. Outside of the terminal, you have a choice to go left or right. We went to the right, knowing the S44 bus to Denino's was in that direction (you can also take it right at the terminal.)

The whole point
So, as any lapsed Catholic would, I gave up something for Lent. I gave up pizza. This is a completely self-indulgent move, having nothing to do with suffering for Jesus (though I would have suffered going 40 days without a slice).
I have been hearing about Denino's since my cousin started dating an Italian guy from Bensonhurst, and I am on my own personal mission to have what is commonly known as the ten best pizzas in NYC. (Note: I will likely never make it to Di Fara's because I cannot wait for two hours on a line with tourists.)
The bus drops you right there, at 524 Port Richmond Avenue. My co-conspirator pointed out that it doesn't look like an old-school pizza place, with murals of Venice on the walls and such. It feels more like a country pizza place, a specimen found upstate N.Y. or out in the wilds of Jersey. It has a bar in front with $1 glasses of Bud or $2.25 pints (yes, please!) and the tables in the back. Children everywhere, lots of women in sweatpants, albeit the tight, velvet kind, and good service. It looks more like a rec room, very beige in color and even a generic sports bar feel up front.
The pizza itself? Really, really good. A smaller pie, but as pointed out in other reviews, not soggy, holds a pile of toppings well, and the crust is very chewy and softer than on a typical pie, if you're into that. My companion was, which sucked for me because I can usually count on eating his discarded crusts.
We got our pie (only pies) half "M.O.R." (meatball, onion and ricotta) and half plain. I hate foods that look like ricotta cheese but the melding of all three ingredients was really good.
While it looks like a saucy pie, the red stuff is a little bland for my tastes. Then again, I like it acidic enough to induce heartburn before you even get up from the table. It also had that cornmeal dusting on the bottom that I could live without. But it all went really well with cheap beer and the fact that I was on Staten Island.

In the end, Lazarra's is still unbeaten in the "best of NYC" pizza category. Surprising, because it is a very thin-crust square pie, but it really is the sauce that does it. And for the record, my still-unbeaten favorite dirty pizza joint slice is in Polito's on Broadway in Astoria. Just make sure it is a fresh pie.

Of SI Note:

This story from the New York Times is a very good indicator of what you will find. It was pretty informative and I wish I had read it before we went. I would have tried to make it to Linoleumville.

The Staten Island Advance goes above and beyond the call of duty. It is truly a great newspaper and they have a sense of humor about the whole Staten Island thing.

learning curve

No sooner do I mentally commit to posting regularly does it become St. Patrick's season. I say season because for someone who works at an Irish institution, this is pretty much all we have. I still don't understand the twinge of heritage that makes our subscriptions go up in March, but
perhaps one day I will. I met a man at the (Czech) Bohemian Beer Hall and Beer Garden reading our paper last night, and he seemed a lot more interesting than the readers who call me up to complain about the caricature of St. Patrick on the cover. But I digress...

As I am just getting my free time back, I was thinking about taking the plunge and laying out for a spring sewing class since it has become apparent that I can't sew in a straight line or measure accurately. I also ordered the bible, commonly known as the 1976 version on the Reader's Digest Guide to Sewing. I ended up with two (thanks eBay!) and I actually prefer the 1978 version, not that I have found a difference yet. It is just in better condition.

Well, I may still find a class useful, but this book is genius. It has given me my confidence back, which was sorely lacking. I am no longer lax to, or afraid of changing out needles and using the dials for things like stitch length and thread tension. And you know what? That stuff is important!
I ordered some jersey recently, looking to make a dress I have a Built By Wendy pattern for, and I was doing some practice sewing, you know, to see what to set the dials to. I even put on a ball-point needle in the correct size, which I learned from the handy chart on page 27. And it worked! I sewed two pieces of jersey together and the seam did not pucker or snag and now I am looking forward to making that dress. Sometimes it just takes a little effort, I suppose.

And now, a gratuitous picture of Seamus, who was recently given a clean bill of health and will be getting the snip as soon as I can make an appointment. This picture was taken right after I told him as such. Please ignore the filthy floor, it was rainy that day!

Down on the farm

I am way late in posting my trip to the General Bailey Homestead Farm, but it isn't going away anytime soon.

Once our trip to Indian Lake, N.Y. was set, I started researching fiber farms on the way up. Why? Because I have the most special princess life, that's why! And it was my birthday and roommate was stuck (he was still roommate at this point, he is now my, um, my soul provider. And my fiancé.) I was originally planning on hitting the Morehouse store, but when I realized I wasn't going to be able to see the sheep on the farm, it lost a little of its luster. I looked for something more farmy. And I found General Bailey's, sitting in the Adirondack foothills. It is actually just a short drive outside of Saratoga Springs, for you racing fans. And while you could miss it driving down the road, the bleating of the sheep would carry you back. They are that loud.

The very nice Kathy Bourgeois, who was semi-expecting us, led us into the barn where the store is. It is full of yarn. She has one floor-to-ceiling wall of her own homespun and another of various sock yarns of mostly merino wool (that I saw), mostly from Australia. There is also a good selection of notions and a cat named Buttons (Buttons!!!), named so because she would keep knocking over Kathy's display buttons. You thought I was going to say knitting needles, didn't you!

The real attraction, aside from the hand-dyed yarn, was the flock of merino sheep that do the work. Sheep's eyes give me the heebie-jeebies, what with that narrow slit and all, but they were dear animals. The soul provider got up close and personal with one of them.
Even while the others looked on in horror.

Then it was feeding time! There was a mini-stampede for the hay.
Thanks for the yarn, buddy.
I have decided that for sure, I want a farm someday. I take a sick amount of crap for stating that wish out loud, but it is true, these people know me and how I grew up. It was not near agriculture. Still, I feel that with a lot of elbow grease, I WE can be self-sustaining. But that is for another post, of course.

Now, if you will excuse me, I think I have just eaten a bad nectarine.

Loukaniko

I guess I am going to squeeze it all in so bear with me. At least there are pictures. (Is it bad to type like people are reading?)

The shrug I started is almost, almost almost done. I got lazy after the second sleeve, but here it is in all the glory. The color is a little off... that blue should be a little more turquoise, but you get the idea. Maybe the picture on the cutting mat was not the best idea. But anyway, it is most definitely small and I hope does not look too silly covering only my shoulders. I have decided I love the pattern and will make another one that actually covers my boobs with some bright red dk I bought at General Bailey's Homestead. Oh my god! I have to post pictures of those sheep. So fun.

Then I had a burst of creativity and re-did the old nurse stool (It looked like the stools the school nurses would sit on) that I rescued from - you guessed it - outside a school. You can see in previous pictures how ugly it was, brown on tan or something. I had a hard time actually deciding on a color, of course I wanted something bright like yellow or red but fabric dictated the show here. I found good-quality cotton gingham with some texture to it (like a really light canvas, almost) at Ragshop, and that kind of said it. I also used the occasion to buy my very own heavy-duty staple gun. I did squeal with fright every time I used it, afraid I would staple my hand together. How, I don't know. Moving on!

Then I decided I would move on to felt plush, stealing everyone else's ideas in the process. I want to say that I have never SEEN the plush ravioli, so perhaps this is the first one. hey, at least it's not a doughnut.

And then, so confident with my sewing skills, I decided I would have to try the machine of doom again. After one breakdown, I actually managed to make a tote bag. Canvas, no lining, but I took measurements (correctly), used my iron, AND did topstitching on this one. Can you see the reinforcement on those handles? I am quite proud of it. I realized how plain it was and I am planning to fabric-paint something on it this weekend that does not involve an owl, a craggy tree branch, or a bird silhouette.

In other news, I had really, really excellent homemade sausage (how's that for a transition?) at Ovelia, a new restaurant in my old neighborhood (Astoria, Queens.) They make it in-house and I have to say, greek sausage, when done correctly, is better than any other kind of sausage in the world. Italian sausage has nothing on this, even the freshly made kind from a real market. This was unreal. I don't know if it is lamb, beef, goat, whatever. It is called Loukaniko and it rocks. That is Gayle there, going for my piece! The waiter actually asked why I was taking a picture and, not being a suave food blogger, I said "because it's really good. I want to remember it." Which is, really, kind of true. I have to make note that it does lead to some kickin' breath... the kind that fills up the room while you sleep off your sausage coma. And in the morning, the room reeks of sweat and garlic. Do not eat this on a date.

Also, I am now the proud owner of the 1976 version of the Reader's Digest Guide to Sewing. I hope it is as good as everyone says. I realized I need to go back to the drawing board to learn sewing the right way, especially if I ever want to make anything that resembles clothing that I have to wear. In public. In fact, I might be the proud owner of two copies, unless someone outbids me (please!) on this one.

Stay tuned...

Oh my goodness, it has been so long.

I realized yesterday that I was at a crossroads with this blog. I could either let it die a slow and horrible death (sort of like what Eunny is doing to everyone), or try and keep at it. Post regularly, try and keep up with pictures, and e-mail other people whose blogs I read for a link. And to ask before I steal their pictures.

I will try for the latter.

The thing is, a lot of things have been happening! I had an insane week so far with lots of idea running through my head. I bought a cute journal to jot it all down, but of course it all came crashing down when I actually tried to sew something and it turned into a complete copy of the last bag I made that I hate so much. I also realized I am hoarding fabric that I love too much to cut up and make more bags I hate with.

I did manage to get some projects done: I painted and reupholstered a chair that I rescued from the trash pile outside a school earlier this year. I will get a picture of that up soon. I also made a plush thing, not sure if this particular inatimate object has been done already, but it is cute. Also, I got engaged - to my roommate. I must be the best person to live with, ever!

As with all good comes bad, I am still stuck in my job on the cusp of our busiest time of year, I have no leads, and no money.

I will return with pictures and the like over the weekend.

so cute it hurts

I snuck this in so people would be forced to take in the utter, um, "proshness" (I can't believe I just typed that) of this picture, courtesy of my daily dose of wonderful, Cute Overload. It's knit, it's a kitten, it's a marmalade kitten, and it is wearing the knitting. AND it has holes where the kitten ears go. I just give up.

procrastination nation

I know this blog reads like a redux of Craftzine's blog, only three days later. So sad! I try to keep up with it, and I keep meaning to e-mail the Web sites I troll and try to exchange links or whatever it is people do nowadays, but I usually only spend time blogging at work. Like you don't!

I have started a new knitting project. The crochet blanket is still underway (18? 19? stripes), and I am attempting my first socks with some lovely sock yarn from Sweeden. I will never give my roommate a sweater, in keeping with old wive's tale tradition, but what's the harm in some socks for Valentine's Day? I figure they will be so malformed (as it is my first attempt) that it's hardly much of a gift.

A sweater for me, now that's another story. I generally look bad in sweaters that are boxy and bulky but my skill level is nowhere near knitting a fitted one. But this, this doesn't look bad at all.

I am this far along: I realized I might have to get some bigger needles, so threw it on a 29-inch circular. This will mark my first attempt at a large-scale project as well. I have a sinking fear the gauge is all wrong, but I can always give it to a narrow-shouldered friend.

material of a thousand uses

I have another problem. It's called vintage kitchenware on eBay.

I am now the proud owner of a smattering of Fire King pieces and this beauty, a vintage (70s is vintage now, yes) Sunbeam 12-speed Mixmaster.
It all started so innocently.

Like everything else that is wrong with this world, I started looking on eBay for spoons. Me and the roommate (like nails on a blackboard, Katy?) have one spoon between the two of us. We had soup the other day and he kindly let me use it while he managed with a soup ladle. But he suggested I try eBay for a set, and since I got paid that day I thought why the hell not. A flurry of bidding later, I had a mixer, some bowls, and no spoons.

I have yet to use the mixer, but it is so damn pretty I don't care. The ("peach lustre," for all you lovers of kitchen porn) loaf pan made a terribly uneven banana bread, so I think I will be sticking to my clear Pyrex from now on. It is nice to look at, though!

I started to see something called Bakelite showing up in the vintage category. What was this marvel of physics and plastics, exactly? To Wikipedia!. It turns out it has a thousand uses, including handles for flatware. I was drawn in by the color, the tantalizing pictures, the - dare I say - tackiness of it all. I never once cared about what my forks were made of. I endlessly mocked a friend's boyfriend for buying a state-of-the-art titanium spork for camping trips. And here I am, debating "butterscotch or jade."

When the bidding reached $50, I knew I was in over my head. This is not why I am on eBay - I could buy a brand new set for cheaper than this, or just go to Junk in Williamsburg and buy 10 spoons for a dollar. Isn't that where this all started? I could understand if this was an ultra rare silver service set, but plastic?

Needless to say, we are still sharing one spoon. And wouldn't you know - tonight is soup night!

sewing 101

Hello. My name is Jill and I only found out the tension on my sewing machine was disgustingly low last night. I have owned my machine for almost a year.

I own a very rudimentary model – Singer 1507
– since all I wanted was to learn how to sew. And, a year later, I can safely say that sewing is HARD! Math is easy, if you just listen to the teacher and commit the formulas to memory (another thing I learned too late). But sewing… is really, like, hard.

I never even had the option to take home economics in school, even though my tough-as-nails 15-year-old self would never have elected to take it. The wifely arts and Home Ec were phased out in favor of things like “Robotics” and “Computers.” Keep in mind this was early 90s computing, in a NYC public school, so it was something like Oregon Trail on an Apple IIe. And don’t even get me started on Robotics, which consisted of creating a hydrolic arm out of wood and syringes. There was no actual metal or electricity involved, no. But I digress, per usual.

So last night, instead of watching the Golden Globes like everyone else in my office (I heard Jennifer Hudson’s speech was “from the heart,”) I tried to construct the skirt I had cut pieces out for a few days earlier. Half out of necessity, since I can’t afford to go clothes shopping until the spring, and half to finally learn how to work from a pattern. And I want to preface this by saying I do not own a tracing wheel.

I got as far as the back seam, which, yes, was the first instruction. Then it came to basting the zipper on. I used the absolutely brilliant Twelve22.org zipper tutorial to learn how to do it in the first place (I had no idea there was such a thing as a zipper foot!), but this was different as I would soon find out. I was instructed to loosen the tension on the machine. I needed the 1570 manual, eHow.com, and the patterns instruction to tell me that those two dials? On the top of the machine? With the numbers? Those are there for a reason. First I learned which one was stitch length, and then I learned the other was something I now forget. But I set that dial to the longest stitch, and then it was time to adjust the bobbin tension. I had seen the screw before, but I just figured it was all set when I bought it. eHow had a very informative test to determine how loose is your tension. You held the bobbin case up by the thread and see how far down it drops. Well, mine hit the floor. At least I was ready to baste!

I ended up doing a pretty crap job of the zipper, and then I realized I don’t even have any way to eyeball the darts, so I ripped what I had done so far out and plan to start anew this evening. Today it is back to Rag Shop, for a tracing wheel. Thank goodness for a 40% coupon.

I am thinking it might be worth it to take a class, or at least buy one of those "learn with photos" Singer books.

progress

I am feeling more myself (while some people would argue my self is more surly than sweet, I beg to differ) and I think it is due in part to getting my hands on some sewing again. It seems infinitely harder than knitting for me in many respects, which just make me want to master it all the more.

This is a bag I started working on since my regular one has been dirtied and frayed to shreds and people stare at me and the look on their faces is something like, "How is she homeless? She certainly looks like she gets enough to eat."

Here is the famous Bella Dia afghan. I just like calling it an afghan but it's not much of anything yet. I'm 13 rows in and I have to stop taking it on the subway with me. It's about 6 feet long and you want to talk about funny looks? I estimate I will be done sometime in late 2009.

This is why I will be done in 2009 - I have no shelving!!! It is funny, my craft room was the first room in the place to be painted and finished and it looks like it will be the last to get organized. Between me and the roommate, we have about 300 books, and all my bookcases/shelves went to the greater cause. I keep meaning to build my own but then I think about staining and sanding and sawing and I get tired and need to take a nap. Look closely at the mess and you will notice at least four bags/baskets/hatboxes of yarn, two out of three bins of fabric, my Uncle John, and assorted crap. Like the yoga mat paced conveniently out of reach in the corner.

This picture is just what is to the right of the prior mound of crap, to give you perspective (and allow you to marvel at the orange walls. They are not peach. One day, I will paint that horse paint-by-numbers set.

And last, but certainly not least, here is Seamus, looking forlorn, if not haute, in his smart off-the-shoulder (who knew dogs had shoulders?) sweater, courtesy of Kathryn. And that is the kitchen. Bright, no?

apologies

I feel terrible that I whined so bad in my last post. I have nothing to complain about in the grand scheme of things. I have my health and a dumb puppy who is FINALLY (fingers crossed) flea-free, and a wonderful roommate to share the great new place with. Of course it worked out, for all my fretting and passive-aggressive anger at any and everyone in my way, and we're moved in and happy and colorful.

There are a million things to do but the Internet goes in tomorrow and tonight I may finally get to my office/craftroom, which I painted a fun light/bright orange. I am afraid it looks too peach now, but I am assured it is indeed VERY ORANGE.

Back to crafting news, of which there has been none because all my things are/were in boxes, I did manage to dig out enough yarns to start a new project.

I want to make note that your typical 99¢ store is a magical, wondrous place for cheap acrylic yarn. Sometimes they even have nice baby soft yarns instead of the itchy usual stuff, but cheap and cheerful works for me, since I am undertaking the biggest project yet:
Bella Dia's Vintage Vertical Stripe Crocheted Blanket.
I admit it, it was the colors here that got me hooked (yuk, yuk) on the idea, though perhaps once I started working on it I realized I have a very drab yarn collection. This didn't stop me, of course, and now I just have another reason to go back to 99¢ Dreams on 5th avenue to find some yellows and white. I am 8 rows in and not bored yet.

Apparently there were/are a lot of crotcheters in the family, great aunts and third cousins and the like, and I was the recipient of some interesting blankets as a baby. I remember seeing them as I got older and my mother put them away lest they be cut up into a million little pieces as I was wont to do with anything of value as a child. But I got excited at the thought that I will make an heirloom, and if I get good enough at it, I can make them for other people as well. Those blankets were a huge comfort to me, my mom, and the thought of doing the same is extremely gratifying.

black blox exercise

There is a special place in hell reserved for my boss and other non-retail business owners who insist on keeping their centrally located midtown Manhattan offices open the week between Christmas and New Year’s.

It just took me 30 minutes to walk from 55th and 6th to 47th and 5th. Why? Because of the tourists, the majority of whom seem to have been procreating since last year’s trip. Here is a tip: Don’t use a large stroller in midtown. Just don’t! Because that makes it all the more hard for people to fit into the pens the NYPD has set up at all corners along 5th and 6th avenues. Yes, pens, like protesters. I would like to protest the amount of assholes walking around the city today.

Christmas was really great, though. I did not get as much sewing/knitting/etc. things as I would have thought but the people I made things for seemed to appreciate them and I enjoyed the chance to do it. I was bestowed with some very lovely gifts, such as a bass guitar (!), some really really really great moccasins and a really really really soft robe, books I had wanted, a 2-qt. Le Creuset (!!!) and a lady tool kit. It was a banner year.

Sadly, still, I definitely feel a sense of dread now that they are over. I am in apartment limbo at the moment, so if that works out I would feel a lot better. But the weather is not very wintry, and while yes, I know it sucks to be cold and wet and snowy, it is New York, for chrissakes. Live in South Carolina if you want this 60-degress bullshit year-round. I like that the snow is supposed to come and people bundle up and stay indoors or rush into bars and steam up the windows.

Sigh. I apologize for spewing too much bile. I am just hoping things work out…

maybe a trip to Cute Overload will save me...

Ugh! Worst week!

Here I was, assuming I was ahead of the game, getting the bulk of my Christmas shopping done over the Internet last week and leaving just a few picky things to get. I could take this week to relax, bake, and bask in the glow of our beautiful Christmas tree with the old-fashioned big glass bulbs. Like a twenty-something grandma, yes, but relaxed!

The reality is, of course, that it is already Wednesday, the production schedule has been pushed forward two days, the Christmas tree is dying since the stand no longer holds water and the bulbs broke when it fell – twice - last week, and I am panicking as to how I can afford all the “little picky gifts” I left until the last minute. I was “shopping” on our review books shelf earlier for back up gifts, in case I can’t find the exact Irvine Welsh book my brother wants, or something that is just the right amount of heartfelt without being showy to my manfriend’s parents. Not to mention the gifts I still have to make. My god.

I hope this all pays off in dividends when I can have next Tuesday off and get back to getting shit done, something I am usually so good at…

sad Christmas tree

I know it is bad to be openly Christmas shopping (or, window shopping) on the Internet while at work, but today I think everyone is a few rungs low. The office party was last night and the forced niceness has resulted in some pretty fierce nasty hangovers.

I am glad that I had an e-mail talk with one of our freelancers earlier this month, however. Editing her usually gave me a headache but she’s been proofing her work (what a concept!) before she sends it in and that means less work for me. Less hair-tugging, eye-rubbing, wonderment type of work.

I don’t know what it is but the last few years have been less Christmassy. I love the season, I would be content to just sit in front of my tree all night and day. But the last few years it just flies by so quickly and all of a sudden I am running out to stores and finding things sold out, shelves ransacked, and wrapping hurriedly in tissue paper.

More of a reason why I like the idea of making presents. I get the immediate satisfaction of having it in my hand, and the practice of working on it. Granted, some people I give to are too, hmmm, let’s say on a one-track-mind to appreciate a homemade gift. I also can’t assume that my skills are really up there with mass production. Perhaps in another year or so. Then again, some people just like gadgets.

I am also at a loss as to crafty gifts for boys/men. I know the knit thing might work for a sweater or hat but I seem to have a mental block about working in dull colors like gray and browns. I have a basket full of yarn and there might be a lump of dull Donegal tweed sitting in a big knot at the bottom of it. Funny, as I am typing, I just realized maybe it isn’t as hard as it seems. My brother probably would wear a nice knit hat and a scarf. And a certain someone else is waiting for me to make a wallet that I promised him after I ripped up his old one to see the construction…