Twigs and Tulle

Six Months of Separation: Keep, Sell, Donate, Delete

2025-06-28T15:02:00.005-05:00

I've been in my apartment for six months, and I still managed to fill and take two and a half more boxes of stuff to Goodwill today. Despite being a get-'er-done type of person, getting organized and truly settled into my separate situation has required a slow and steady pace over time. What's enjoyable about this process has been twofold: 1) I've been able to identify the things I love and want in my sanctuary, and 2) I get to free up space while letting other folks put my donations to good use. Every month I've been here, I've been sorting and evaluating, much like I do professionally as a school librarian.

For the remainder of the summer (and likely into early fall), I'll keep whittling away at my collection, knowing fully what I need and what I want. As the holidays arrive, I'll be able to sort through the monthly decor that remains and box up items for others to discover and enjoy. My goal? To find an affordable, flocked, pre-lit Christmas tree in wonderful condition for December that's easy to store in the space that I will have freed up after months and months of adjusting. After selling and buying online, I've been able to obtain my essentials at very little cost.

Reading about or listening to other Gen X women who have separated from or are currently divorcing their spouses (social media algorithms can certainly give the impression that it's an epidemic), I'm struck by how many are asking "What do we do with our wedding gowns, preserved bouquets, wedding photos, cards, jewelry, etc.? " Here's what I've done so far:

Sold:

Wedding gown: It signified my wedding, not my marriage, and I loved the dress too much to burn, shred, or throw it away. My daughter would never use it, and I no longer wanted it. I took photos and a short video and posted the gown on FB Marketplace, and a young lady with her best friend drove to Kansas two weeks later to try it on. Their squeals let me know that it was "the one," which I was certain would be a sad moment for me, but it turned out to have quite the opposite effect. She felt the same way I did twenty-four years ago, and I was happy that the dress would have yet another opportunity to be part of a love story.

My Harley-Davidson riding leathers: twenty-plus years and thirty pounds ago, I enjoyed going for rides with my spouse, and even modeled for the 100th Anniversary Harley catalog. My gear was also listed online and sold within a week.

Dishware: Even after making sure my three children had their china, I ended up with far too many plates, bowls, and trays that would have taken up most of my now limited cabinetry. I listed it all and sold it all.

Donated:

Books that I didn't plan to read again were taken to the lounge at my school and offered to my colleagues. Every item was adopted.

I took wedding and "us" photos out of their frames and put them into a storage cube to go through whenever I'm ready. Did my spouse ask for copies of our wedding pictures? No. I decided which frames I'd use again (only two), and the rest were put into a donation box.

Any furniture that no longer worked because of the size or layout of my new space was first listed online for sale, and then donated after two weeks to two different locations, Goodwill and Savers, so that I could receive a shopping coupon from each of them in return. I quickly found a dining room table that fit exactly as needed, and shortly thereafter, four dining room chairs and a loveseat at Habitat for Humanity in Kansas City.

Repurposed:

Furniture: Most of the furniture that I have been able to keep has been repurposed and used throughout my apartment in very different spaces than they had been originally located in the house. The narrow bookcase from my craftroom now holds towels, bath and shower items, my nail care baskets and extra rolls of toilet paper and boxes of tissue. The hallway bookcase that used to store the hundreds of picture books that I would receive from publishers to review is now in my bedroom, holding books, my computer printer, photos, and other keepsakes. Metal kitchen shelves from the den are where you'll now find many of my supplies in my craft room. The antique cabinet with glass doors that used to hold all of my glass collection, vases, candlesticks, antique salt cellars, votives, topped with family photos and seasonal decor, is now near the front door. I've added white curtains to the inside of the doors to conceal the dog and cat food, laundry detergent, fabric softener, and tools that it now contains. An antique wooden game table is where my iMac sits in my bedroom next to the bookcase, while two wooden sets of drawers, originally from the dining room and den, have been stacked on top of one another in the living room to make a stand for my television.

Everything feels very eclectic, creative, and useful, which I find exceedingly pleasant.

Engagement and wedding rings: I finally had the urge to go through my jewelry a few weeks ago, figuring out which earrings, necklaces, brooches, and rings I'd like to continue wearing. I ended up with quite a few pieces, including my engagement, wedding, and anniversary bands, in a pile that I would also like to have repurposed. I don't want to sell any of it, but I won't use the jewelry in its current form. I'd love for all of the stones to be removed, the gold melted down, and new earrings, a ring, or some pendants to be made that I'd enjoy and could pass along to my children at special times in their lives. I'd like to track down a jewelry artist who specializes in breathing new life and purpose into the keepsakes and talismans we wear.

Deleted:

I sorted through digital photos on social media and kept copies that the children might like to have. As I'm no longer celebrating wedding anniversaries, those online albums were deleted from my social media. I removed and blocked my spouse from any digital games and friends lists. My children are now my emergency contacts, and my eldest will be given control of my social media, hopefully far into the future.

*****

I've kept a rolling cart against the wall in my living area where I can deposit any additional items that I'd like to sell or donate; fifty-five years' worth of belongings is a LOT, and sorting through all of it, not just the items I associate with my marriage, has been an important task to undertake for who I am now, today.

The Youngest has been coming over weekly for dinner, a movie, cuddles with Charlie and Tish-Tish, and talking. He's been working through his feelings about his parents' separation and eventual divorce, while trying to figure out who he is and what he'd like to be doing with his own energy and time. He told me that he'd "be happy to come over and help put up the Christmas tree" in December. Something tells me he'd enjoy putting up cornucopias and turkeys in November, and Halloween pumpkins and black cats in October, too. I've always had fond memories of holidays and have every intention of continuing to enjoy them. I may be able and inclined to travel for reasons other than emergencies in the near future, but plan to be here, in my space, for my birthday and Christmas, since they were less than celebratory last year.

I can't help but recognize that I have so much to look forward to while also finding satisfaction and peace of mind in the present, and I hope that other women who are experiencing an unanticipated transition in their lives can navigate purposefully and positively.

Recalibration and Reflection

2024-11-10T08:42:00.002-06:00

Recalibrate: verb; to adjust the settings on a device that precisely measures, senses, or moves.

It's been five days since the results of the 2024 Presidential Election. Being a #bluedot in a red state, and being a public school educator, wife, mother, aunt, ally, and woman in this nation, I've had my physical and emotional states wrung through the wringer repeatedly since I spontaneously woke up around 3:30 in the morning on Wednesday and checked my phone for election results.

We were supposed to have our first woman president.

We were supposed to move closer to actual liberty and justice for all.

We were supposed to choose expertise over a political phony.

We were supposed to be able to trust that the President was someone in control of their mental faculties.

We were supposed to lock away fascism for at least four years, in the hopes that our neighbors, family, friends, and colleagues would come to their senses and realize that there were plenty of important reasons our founding fathers and mothers opposed dictatorial leaders who regularly forcibly suppressed their opposition.

We were supposed to be able to tell our daughters and show them actual evidence that yes, they really could grow up and become President.

We were supposed to move ourselves forward, acknowledge our shared problems, and continue to work together to solve them.

*****

Shirt can be found here

On Wednesday morning, I cried. Sobbed. It felt as if danger was gleefully smiling and dancing upon the front porch. I was grateful to have taken the day off from work in order to accompany my youngest to some appointments, but it was difficult being out in public. After having our senses assaulted by a kid in a monster truck hauling ass and burning rubber through downtown, honking and screaming "Trump! Trump! TRUMP!" while an oversized campaign flag flapped in the breeze over his bed, my son bought me tiramisu at a nearby bakery. I ate half of it for dessert after dinner. I didn't watch the news.

Thursday found me hastily making safety pins adorned with small blue ribbons, a signal to others that they remain safe with me. I finished the remainder of my tiramisu for breakfast, and gladly focused on cataloging and in-processing new books that were waiting for me on my circulation desk. I discovered the #bluebracelet movement later that afternoon, and found many women disagreeing over their intended symbolism on social media that evening. Few were discussing the intention of those of us who want to provide and need to create a sense of safety in our community. Critics' anger, disappointment, and fear fueled their raw responses. I couldn't blame them, but I couldn't bring myself to join or intervene in their arguments either. I went to bed and read. I didn't watch the news.

It was Friday morning when I began berating myself for my optimism, newly dashed hopes, and obvious naiveté, which was difficult because I was also tasked for the second day since the election of supporting the social-emotional needs of elementary school students. Kindergarteners "so glad" that "evil didn't win" (yes, our youngest students weren't spared from their parents' fascist ideology and proudly repeated it, multiple times) sat in chairs that were later occupied by fifth-grade girls who earlier in the week had proudly worn Ruth Bader Ginsberg shirts to school. If my colleagues were pleased or disappointed in the election results, it appeared they were either sharing their feelings behind closed doors or were bottling up their emotions and opinions for the sake of professionalism. I visited the local bakery again and bought two more pieces of tiramisu. No, I didn't watch the news.

On Saturday morning, I found a meme that helped me begin to articulate a truth about my current state of being:

A better articulation for me would be "I no longer see just the good in people, I see the truth of them." I was able to watch the weather report on t.v. before my husband suggested we go out for breakfast. I wore a meager attempt at humor:

I added some Irish Cream to my morning coffee. I bought groceries, yarn, and two magazines. Self-medication from start to finish. I crocheted for most of the afternoon. Deactivated my account on Twitter/X for good. Began reorganizing and redecorating parts of my craft room. Ate a piece of tiramisu. Started laundry. Joined my husband and son at a nearby restaurant for dinner. Remembered I was a Blue Dot in a red state, a Blue Dot in a fascist-leaning country. Came home, showered, and climbed into bed to read. No, I wasn't ready to watch the news, and I certainly did not stay up to watch Saturday Night Live.

Today is Sunday, and no, I'm still not ready to watch the news. I doubt I'll watch the recording of SNL. I've peeked at the social media of the experts I appreciate (actual historians, actual educators, actual lawyers), I've had some coffee sans liqueur, and as I look around my craft room, I'm inspired to continue what I started yesterday. Maybe I'll put up a glimmer of Christmas in here, my silver tinsel tree with pastel and vintage ornaments, to give me something beautiful to look at as I craft and crochet holiday gifts. Or maybe that can wait another week.

*****

Rage hasn't hit me yet, but if 2016 and the death of my mother are good indicators, it'll be coming around the bend soon. I know not to make huge, life-changing decisions while grief-stricken, and my instincts are still telling me to hope for the best while absolutely preparing for the worst. This is why I need community, something I don't have much of in my immediate vicinity. A community not made up of individuals who are already realizing that their "savior" is the reason their holiday bonuses were just canceled because their employer has to purchase and stockpile as many supplies as possible before the tariffs hit. Not the people who "just" realized that it's the states that will determine the quality of public education their children in special education will receive, and that not every state is trustworthy about money. Not the individuals confused as to why big businesses aren't buying up plots of land in the U.S.A., instead choosing to move their production facilities to countries like Vietnam. And certainly NOT the people who are trying to laugh off and minimize "your body, MY choice" as "boys will be boys."

It's. Sexual. Harassment.

It's. The. Threat. Of. Violence.

See? Right there, percolating under the surface? Rage.

(sticker found here)

As much as I resent the need for this personal recalibration, I know and accept that it's been done successfully before. I will miss the days of la vie en rose, but I don't intend to pine for them. Four years is four years, and it will take a lot of hard work and shared power to endure and thrive. Those of us who lost in this election need one another, and those who believe they won are going to be finding out how wrong they are. I'll be fifty-five next month, and can't yet tell you that I'll choose to be polite, gracious, or forgiving as they continue to grow in numbers, moaning, wailing, and insisting that they "had no idea." I hope that I'll be able to internally achieve calm acceptance and peace while I refuse to let him or his ilk take away the joys of family, creativity, positive and productive endeavors, learning new things, and true belonging... but I'm going to be sorely tempted to unleash a barrage of sarcasm and pointed blame if folks at fault for what's already on the horizon come to me for sympathy.

I'm a woman, with the blood of Indigenous American Peoples running through my veins, the parent of incredible children, wife of an American veteran, an educator and school librarian, and ally to minorities abused and neglected for being different. I'll be wearing blue bracelets, safety pins with ribbons, rainbows, and inspiring quotes, and I will continue to stick out like a sore thumb, because hell... when have I not?

I'll also continue to eat tiramisu. That's some good shit, right there.

Crocheted Hexagon Cardigans and Teacher Tees

2024-07-10T15:12:00.001-05:00

I have been plowing through all of my crochet-related projects during summer break and figured I'd check in to show you what I've made, should you be on the lookout for a handmade cardigan for cooler weather that will undoubtedly be on the way after this heat finishes with us!

Make sure to carefully read through the descriptions for each sweater to see if the bust, sleeve, and length measurements will work for you. Some are lighter weight due to being single-stranded, while others are heavier (and warmer) due to being crocheted with two strands of yarn at a time. They are adorable over jumpers, sundresses, skirts, leggings and pants, and are all kinds of cozy when worn over pajamas. I'm speaking from experience here.

You can also scroll through my other Etsy listings for state EDUC8R t-shirts that feature simple backline tracings of each state, which would be awesome appreciation gifts for the teachers in your life. These look great under a blazer, zip-up, and yes, even a cardigan. Please note that women's fit and unisex styles are both offered.

I hope you've all been enjoying a wonderful summer!

~Michaele

My Etsy Shop: https://www.etsy.com/shop/michaelesommerville

"Presidential" Debate, 2024

2024-06-28T10:28:00.000-05:00

Already a decided voter, I was looking for reassurance, affirmation, and hope at the beginning of last night's debate. I already knew that both candidates were old, white, men. I knew one was a convicted felon and had been a lifelong grifter. I knew one had a stutter, a man who has spent over half his life in public service. One is the embodiment of the textbook definition of a narcissist, and the other is practiced in behaving diplomatically. One talks HIS talk, while the other aspires to walk THE walk.

It didn't take long for the President to show his age. This isn't a criticism. He's eighty-one, and like all of us, will only continue to get older. His mobility, appearance, and mental faculties affirm that he's no spring chicken. As always, his opponent's age was overshadowed by his perpetual need to play the victim while simultaneously boasting about how he's the "best." Me-me-me, I-I-I, there is no room for anyone else on his stage. One man tried to speak to and for the People, while the other spoke about himself and his greatness and how horrible our country is. None of the disparity between the two men was a shock to me.

But I did become increasingly bothered as the debate lurched onward. Oh yes.

There was no real-time fact-checking.

When the President had the opportunity to rally around women, our human rights and autonomy, he quickly pivoted to immigration, botching both talking points. Seriously, who coached him to do that? He could have taken the time to speak to every woman, wife, daughter, aunt, grandmother, godmother, stay-at-home mom, and employee in one fell swoop but instead plopped a story about a female child victim onto the lectern and into the camera lens. We already know many of us have been victims.

Neither moderator followed up "Black jobs" and "Hispanic jobs" with a request for further explanation. I had to remind myself that the two news reporters (journalists?) weren't looking for the truth; they simply signed on to ask questions. Getting a liar to speak about the foundational pieces behind his "truth" is a skill and strategy that helps us to be better informed.

The President was likely coached to appear tough, but tried to do it via name-calling. "Whiner!" And "Loser" wasn't interpreted by viewers/listeners as "the-candidate-who-didn't-win-the-last-election."

While his love, commitment, and ferocity as a parent remained consistent, how wonderful it would have been to have seen that fire appear elsewhere. Well, anywhere other... than... g-o-l-f. The President was successfully baited into verbal sparring over the topic of golf.

Golf.

I know which vote is the correct one for our country during this election, and after last night I'm also keenly aware of what our country needs to do for the future. Old, white-guys-only isn't going to cut it anymore.

*****

I'll be stress-cleaning and crocheting today.

Finding Time vs. Having Time

2024-06-18T12:05:00.000-05:00

I'm nearing a month into summer break, and slowly beginning to feel a reduction in my usual daily urgency, the pace I follow during the school year. I get up, let the dog out, take my morning medication, decide upon coffee and breakfast, and try not to make too much noise as DH and the College Freshman continue to sleep. I go downstairs carefully, enter my craft room, set my mug and bagel down upon the desk, and look around in search of inspiration.

My idle hands, free from shelving books, barcoding and processing new additions to our library, repairing broken spines and torn pages, and creating reading displays, require activity. Until last weekend I didn't have many options as the room was in a mess, with stacks of picture books to read and review covering the surface of one work table, and yarn, Christmas cards yet to be turned into this year's gift tags, fabric, and stacks and bags of ephemera, embroidery floss, decorative garland, and odds and ends brought home from my library office balancing on the other. Thanks to one of my cats, the floor and entire bottom row of storage cubes (and a good third of their contents) required deep cleaning and transitioning to the garbage, so new cubes had to be purchased and materials needed to be reorganized. After finishing two more granny-square hexagon cardigans, I decided to use the blanket yarn I'd purchased months ago to make a squishy, slightly heavy afghan. It's almost finished:

Tomatoes, melons, bell peppers, radishes and basil have been started in and around the greenhouse, while flower seeds are finally beginning to sprout in the gutter "tree," but the mud daubers and wasps allow me in just long enough to water containers before asserting themselves in my general direction, so I haven't spent as much time puttering and playing in the dirt as I'd like. Next year remind me to crochet a large beige "nest" to hang up in the rafters come spring, okay?

Yesterday I discovered that I didn't completely fill out the year-long calendar I keep in the craft room in January, so June looks like this:

Do you see my dear friend Shannon's birthday on it? Nope. Do you see a due date for my last HEP B shot on it (someone my age has to work through a cycle of three)? Nuh-uh. The month of May had entries scribbled across almost every Sunday through Saturday, but for most educators, the last day of school is written in big, bold letters, and that finality was apparently the only goal for this librarian. Shannon's gifts have been keeping my morning coffee and bagel company on my desk every day since school got out, but they'll be in the mail tomorrow.

Thankfully, I receive email notifications from my healthcare provider so I'll be able to complete my immunizations next week. Books have been reviewed and moved to a bookcase in the hallway. The floor and cabinetry have been cleaned and disinfected, and the new cubbies for the storage cubes have been ScotchGard-ed (not sure what the generic brand is called), filled and added to the wall. I can see the surfaces of my two work tables. I can wrap presents, browse craft magazines and websites, and lay out materials for my next creation. As I'm no fan of summer heat or summer crowds, I have about a month of fiddling around, trying new things, refreshing the space, and focusing on my want-to-dos, rather than having my days filled with must-dos, inside in an air-conditioned space. I can nap, read, crochet, craft, bake, and let my mind meander if it so chooses.

Yesterday was a Monday, and I gave myself a manicure at 10:30 a.m. I napped with DH on the couch as we tried to binge-watch the last episodes of Alice in Borderland. If you're not into gore, scroll right past it as you browse Netflix categories. A week or so ago I splurged and treated myself to more yarn (surprise, surprise), and admittedly some of it is nudging me toward a Halloween frame of mind. Wandering through the book section of thrift stores last weekend, I was delighted to find copies of mixed media and soldering books that I've been wanting for y-e-a-r-s. This morning I started on some of the last rounds of the afghan and watched Remembering Gene Wilder, which was delightful, until the end when I was reminded that he also suffered and died from dementia, like my mother. Charlie spends some time with me each day. Usually, breakfast and lunchtime.

Most summers it's like this. Rather than finding time, I have time.

Valentine Swap 2024

2024-02-13T00:00:00.001-06:00

Thanks to Sarah at Makin Projiks and other swap participants, I have a few more Valentine ornaments to add to my tinsel tree in the crafty nook! This being my third year as our school's librarian, can you guess which ornament is my favorite?

Yes, oh yes, the heart-shaped bookshelf with mini books made me squeal out loud! And holding each ornament in my hand and reading the sweet notes attached to some of them just made me feel so good inside; I love handmade, shared, gifted things.

I went old school and tried my hand at embellishing a BINGO card with buttons, pinata fringe, glass glitter, tulle, holiday garland, and silk flowers. I hope the recipients enjoy them!

Happy Valentine's Day!

Growing Collections

2023-08-06T14:30:00.004-05:00

I was raised in a tchotchke family and have been friends with plenty of collectors in my lifetime and career. Most acquired books, some china, memorabilia from their youth and/or travels, jewelry, and many, many figurines. Plenty of us have been hoarders of textiles and other creative media, too.

My mother went through a porcelain doll-collecting phase in her thirties and forties, most purchased from the Franklin Mint, and none from Marie Osmond. I had Japanese and Thai dolls growing up thanks to her father, a diplomat, and I was given a sweet, soft Eskimo/Indigenous doll made by my Inupiat grandmother, Aaka Ruth, that I cherished until I made the mistake of taking it to school with me for show and tell. The doll was taken from my student bin while the class was out at recess, and I never saw it again. Aaka and my mother gave me more dolls, some with carved bone faces and some with embroidered hide and fur clothing. I loved the miniature parkas, mukluks, kuspuks and mittens of the dolls, and similar dolls and indigenous art have continued to catch my eye in shops and museums.

This summer wasn't filled with extra work at school, unexpected surgeries, or travel, so I crocheted a lot, read and reviewed picture books, muddled around in the greenhouse, rethought some organization at home, and enjoyed the slower pace. I visited a few thrift stores and antique shops, and unexpectedly came to the realization that I missed the Eskimo doll of my childhood. Ebay sellers had some extremely affordable dolls available in June and July, so I treated myself to a few (pictures below are of one that I did some mending on), and then, out of the blue, something told me to search my Aaka's name.

None of her dolls appeared, but a pair of her slippers did. Well worn, their owner sold and shipped them quickly to me, and within a week, I had a piece of her back again. I sent the seller a private message explaining who I was and why I was so pleased to have her handiwork and included a photo of us both taken around the time when he likely purchased the slippers from her at the World Eskimo Indian Olympics two decades ago. He graciously replied, also with a photo, letting me know how he and his wife, both educators, had traveled to Alaska and met my Aaka at WEIO, and how the slippers he had purchased for himself had become completely worn through, so he threw their remnants away. His wife stopped wearing hers in order to keep them intact, but because they were both moving to live in elder housing they were whittling down their belongings as much as possible, which is why the slippers were listed on eBay. "You were meant to have them."

I believe it.

Here are the slippers, with their well-rounded toes, and seal appliques:

One of the dolls I received this summer needed to have its mitten strings replaced and repaired, which I took care of this morning:

I wasn't worried about finding matching yarn, but I was able to find embroidery floss in a color that blends in nicely with the fabric so that I could attach the mitten strings behind the hood to keep them where they belong.

Take a peek under the kuspuk- there's fur clothing and beadwork beneath. The fur is shedding quite a bit, so the doll probably experienced heat at some point.

Though there are pin-prick holes in the fabric that I've decided to leave, she can now keep another doll I adopted over the summer company.

I've collected nesting dolls for years, but this set has been one of my favorite finds.

*****

Do you collect?

Craft Time: Earring Repair and Modifications

2023-06-24T15:05:00.001-05:00

Unwinding over summer break, I've been crocheting, doing chores, creating print-on-demand items, binge-watching streaming series (I just finished The Great), and working in the greenhouse. So far, we have basil, cherry tomatoes, and zucchini in production, with small apples dotting our trees in the front and back yards. It feels good to grow our own food, even if it is only for a few months out of the year.

I set some summertime goals for myself at the end of the school year: catch up on reading and reviewing picture books that publishers have sent for Kansas Reading Circle; crochet some wearables other than scarves and cowls; create teacher tees for all fifty states and list them on Etsy; find some pretty picture frames for photos that I've decided I'd like to have within easy sight and put all of the others in albums in chronological order as best I can; read some more intermediate chapter books so I can continue to recommend interesting titles to older students (twenty-five years as a kindergarten teacher has me swimming in picture book familiarity); declutter here and there; and work on more assemblage jewelry items.

Today, I dabbled in some repair and modification of some earrings that I'd like to wear during the upcoming school year.

Setting newly-framed photos aside, I took out my pliers so I could remove jump rings and button-backs from some "librarian" earrings. Students always commented on Dogman, the Pigeon, and other book characters, but the glittery buttons just didn't feel great when I wore them.

Beads, pearls, headpins, cutters, earring wire, jump rings... my creativity is messy.

I tried figuring out some complimentary bead combos, and after checking in the mirror, figured out how long I'd like each earring to hang. Some of my Alaskan beaded earrings needed new earwires, while others worked with leverbacks.

So much better! And one more thing checked off of my summer to-do list.

Assemblage Jewelry: Bits of This and That

2023-02-19T16:46:00.003-06:00

I have been a jewelry lover for most of my life. Accompanying my mother to jewelry stores in the malls, and looking over antique jewelry in the store my grandmother used to manage decades ago in Washington, D.C., I came to love all sorts of pieces, their histories, their weight and colors, their textures and purposes. Brooches, chatelaines, parures (sets of jewels that are to be worn together), rings, charms, fobs, tiaras, I found so many of them appealing.

Though the storyline was (still is) dated, as a child and teen I used to love watching Gigi starring Leslie Caron. Aunt Alicia and her jewelry box full of exquisite items that she received from many, many lovers as a courtesan was a favorite scene. My mother and I exclaimed "A TOPAZ?!?!? Amongst MY jewels?!?!?! Are you MAD?!?!?" at the appropriate moment every time we watched the movie together, or whenever someone, anyone in passing or in conversation would for whatever reason say the word "topaz." Shortly after she passed, I purchased a sixty-nine carat oval mystic topaz ring, just to keep the memory alive. It's huge, almost to the point of being obscene. It's heavy on the finger and I love it.

While my mother and grandmother had lovely pieces of "real" jewelry that they wore, they both also enjoyed good costume or fashion jewelry. Ethnic pieces, too much sparkle, earthier textures and some clunky stuff filled corners of their jewelry cases and dresser drawers. Accessories and bling are GOOD, according to my genetic code. My father's brother John, who recently passed, also made jewelry, using walrus ivory, baleen, and jade, so I had a collection started as a child that has only grown over time. Dad recently sent me and my daughter matching ivory snowflake earrings carved by an artisan in Shishmaref, Alaska.

I've bought plenty of jewelry myself over the years, mostly earrings in my twenties and thirties, and then necklaces in my late thirties and forties. If Dear Daughter wanted or needed jewelry we could easily raid my stash for prom, homecoming, dates and interviews. Whenever I've stopped wearing certain pieces, they've remained within easy reach in my bedroom. If, after a few years I don't feel inclined to have them in my way, they migrate to the craft room and are tucked into boxes, crystal candy dishes, drawers, etc. I have broken necklaces, lone earrings, charms both given and made (I used to solder glass charms every weekend almost ten years ago), pin backs, key fobs, and bracelets and it's all been sitting untouched until this weekend.

With chores done and a three-day weekend ahead of me, I thought it would be nice to figure out how to make a spring necklace for myself utilizing some of the bits and bobs that I have been squirreling away for years. So out it all came, along with pliers and jump rings. Lots and lots of jump rings.

(I still have my valentine tree up in the craft room- I love all of those swapped ornaments!)

I'm one of those people who often needs to make a mess before I can make a masterpiece...

Dump it out. Sift through it. Pick a piece from here and there. Push everything aside once creative inspiration hits.

I found myself working big to small, choosing large necklaces, charms and dangles, before realizing that DISASSEMBLING was going to be required first before I could Frankenstein different elements together. Shortening chains, separating beads and links, oh, it was FUN! With smaller pieces, more possibilities began to present themselves.

My goal was to make a single spring necklace for myself. I made thirteen. You could say I found my groove.

I'm keeping two of them- the first, the spring piece that incorporates a fun Easter Bunny charm I made almost a decade ago alongside earthy browns and a little sparkle:

The second features a bluish green stone heart pendant that my grandmother gave me years ago as a Christmas gift. It hung on a leather strap, and was flanked by two brown beads, which I never liked. Imagine my surprise when I realized that a chain with mini faux pearls could slide right on through the opening!

Remaking jewelry- whoulda thunk it? Well, obviously LOTS of people, but whoulda thunk I'd find it such a fun thing to do? I appreciate how these happy surprises happen, and I'm so glad I've been able to give bits of this and that a whole new life.

These necklaces are considered "assemblage" jewelry, because they were made with components not intended to be put together for the original finished piece. And because I won't be wearing all of these necklaces, I've listed them in my Etsy shop!

They're keeping my librarian, book lover and educator t-shirts, home decor, and crocheted afghans company, but they are ready to be enjoyed now that spring is just around the corner! Hippity hop over for a visit by clicking here.

*****

Michaele

Greenhouse Harvest

2022-08-28T12:22:00.000-05:00

Despite Dear Daughter's annual contribution of seeds, this summer's greenhouse harvest has been next to piddly-nuttin', partly because I think I didn't work enough fertilizer into the soil, and partly because of grasshoppers, grasshoppers, grasshoppers... grasshoppers e-v-e-r-y-w-h-e-r-e. But our apple trees produced enough that I may be able to make some filling for mini pies and still contribute some not-so-rosy ones to the deer. The cucumber plants which are usually fading away at this point in August are just now producing, and the same goes with the bell peppers. As for the pumpkins, it appears I may only get some minis for the fall. The beetles (or whatever they are) returned and nothing worked on them. I don't know if I need to set up a system of nets combined with SEVIN spray next year, but I need to do something if I hope to have some cheerful orange for the porch and Halloween.

The cherry tomatoes are leggy, and I'm thinking grasshoppers love their little yellow blooms because wow... I have fewer than ten red mini-globes for today's salad. I did manage to produce zucchini this year which was shredded and used in a zucchini/onion/parmesan quick bread that even The Teenager scarfed down, but it looks like only two melons might have a chance of ripening before the end of September, while the canteloupe vines will offer only lovely greenery and blooms. Pesto and other recipes requiring basil are all set for this fall, but I'll be reading up this winter for purposeful rather than accidental success for next year.

It does feel good to grow your own food.

I kept it simple for the Christmas tree this year, filling the gutters with coleus, moss roses, and dianthus:

Yum!

Caught My Eye, Tugged at My Heart

2022-08-14T09:39:00.002-05:00

Like many of you, specific textures, finishes, and objects regularly catch my eye. Marcrest stoneware (the ever-elusive cream or off-white daisy dot pattern), lace and eyelet fabric, Russian lacquer and high-gloss folk art, vintage Christmas ornaments and holiday paper products, yarn, crafting bits and bobs, and vintage picture books from my youth eventually find their way to me after I wander through antique malls, peruse social media, or are gifted treasures from other magpie-minded friends.

Spending much of this summer with family, and reflecting upon resurfaced memories of my childhood, I made time to explore some antique malls a bit further out of my way to see what I might find. A collector of gold, black, red, sage green, orange, and tan Russian folk art platters, bowls, spoons, and other serving vessels, these small, young-child or doll chairs made me gasp as I turned a corner in a shop in Olathe:

I have yet to decide how I'll use them, but they're certainly NOT for sitting upon. Perhaps as stands for some houseplants or books, near my bedside to hold a crochet project up off of the floor, or next to the Christmas tree for some added elevation for small gifts... I already love them without having an official use for them.

A mixed media artist who has inspired me for years has started to part with collections of items she's used in the past, and I jumped at the chance to bid upon a selection of eyelet and lace in white and cream:

The trims scream summertime to me at the moment, but once cooler weather arrives I know they'll likely inspire me to sew up some warm pillowcases in cotton or fleece, work up some felt or crochet items and then select the perfect eyelet for finishing the edges. Passing along items to a good home where they'll be used, and adopting materials such as these with the intent of using them beautifully are some of my favorite expressions of kindness and manifestations of purpose.

Are you a collector? What catches your eye and tugs at your heart?

Expanding My Early Childhood Ornament Collection

2022-07-31T17:58:00.003-05:00

I had several ornaments that were hard to place and even more difficult to name as I expanded my search for Christmas decor that I dream-remembered from my childhood during my bout with COVID earlier this summer. After using keywords such as "fragile," "diorama," "shaved wood" and "open arch wooden ornament" across Ebay, Etsy and Google in general, I finally found examples of and the correct keywords for the ornaments in question.

Erzgebirge

Seiffen, Germany

Richard Glaesser woodshops

... and let's not forget "vintage."

These have now joined my Christmas in July Childhood Ornament Collection (one dated 1975):

Here's a view from the other side of the ornament:

The wooden arches feature a simple geometric design like this one, and the thinnest of gold thread was used for the hangars at the top, though the nativity ornament arrived without it.

These are German, which makes me believe that the lost or abandoned ornaments of my childhood had been given to me by my German godmother, Annie Rooney. I love these and look forward to collecting more that were created in the "Erzgebirge Mountain Village of Seiffen, Germany by the craftsmen at the Richard Glaesser woodshops" during the 1970s.

I've enjoyed creating this new vintage collection this summer, but it's almost time to put the ornaments away until December, so I can start getting ready for Halloween!

Childhood Christmas in July

2022-07-21T11:20:00.001-05:00

After two years of successfully avoiding COVID, I started feeling a bit off and subsequently tested positive the day after the school year ended in May. I used up box after box of Kleenex and needed a bottle of decongestant spray within reach to help me breathe during the fourteen-day quarantine, but I thought it was a good sign that I didn't experience a fever. I could smell and taste food for all but three days, and I was able to sneak out to my greenhouse on multiple afternoons in order to enjoy some mask-free time. I slept a LOT and used Lysol spray on everything. I crocheted, read, binge-watched several series, and slept some more.

For some reason, I dreamt of childhood Christmases from almost fifty years ago and remembered clearly ornaments on the trees that had either been lost, taken, or left behind when Mom decided to hastily move our family from Texas to Alaska in 1980. The ornaments don't appear in any of my holiday pictures, which, by the way, are all in black and white except for holiday portraits taken with Santa at the mall, all still considered "vintage," and I have only one ornament from those early memories that she gave me when I first married, so obviously some decor made the trip north.

Mom had me when she was in college. Holiday magic was provided annually by my grandparents, uncle, and the family of my mother's best friend, Tommie Sue. Grandpa would have my birthday meal and our Christmas dinner sent to mom's college apartment, complete with a gingerbread house (he lived overseas), and G.G. would always bring presents and plenty of sparkle. I remember Mom painting pieces of wood to hang on the tree one year, joining strands of lights where the bulbs were surrounded by mini-reflectors in the shape of clear flower petals, strands of metal beads she used as garlands, some pushpin and sequin ornaments that had been received as gifts, and some styrofoam Santa elves, one wearing red, the other white. Small white rocking horses, mice, teddy bears, elephants, and trains trimmed in red and white gingham would join the tree a few years later. Wooden diorama-type ornaments were also on our tree, but the curved, shaved arch above them was terribly fragile. She stopped using silver tinsel on trees after moving to Alaska and our adopted cat ate and later casually excreted it along the living room floor. Mom's wooden nativity would come out of its box, and the plastic popcorn snowman and Christmas tree wallhangings were taped and tacked to furniture and doors. We always reused the same beautiful paper advent calendar, and Beistle honeycomb decor and a Gurley Santa candle were some of my favorite items. But those painted wooden ornaments... I had forgotten all about them until I started sleeping extra hours at the start of summer.

I haven't searched eBay regularly in years, but the hunt was on. Three, almost four weeks later, after having completely forgotten what must have been a marathon of online searching, two boxes arrived. One with an opened but never used set of Paint by Number Christmas Ornaments and the other containing a baggie of gingham-clad animals and trains.

These ornaments would have been considered very affordable in the early 1970s, which would have helped a single mother just starting her teaching career provide some Christmas magic each December. Mom likely would have had a heart attack if she saw that replacing them didn't qualify as a Sears and Roebuck special in 2022, but perhaps if she's peeked back in on me from the ether, they've put a smile on her face.

I'm no painter, and the flimsy brush provided in the wooden ornament kit could NOT have been what any artist, amateur or experienced, would have wanted to use while working on each character. The paint was dried solid in each of the glass containers, so my tub of acrylic craft paints was put to good use. I painted outside of the lines. I used colors different from what the instructions mentioned. I made plenty of smears, and I committed to adding glitter once the paint was dry.

Another COVID-brain purchase was a black wrought iron ornament tree that arrived a week and a half later. It will work wonderfully for October, but for now, it's providing a spot in my craft room for my childhood Christmas in July.

All of the ladies except for one angel in the kit were supposed to have their hair painted yellow. Oh, no-no-no-no-no.

In true 70s fashion, Raggedy Ann and Andy are included in the set:

... and there's just a bit of cheekiness featured on one ornament in particular:

No, no, not there... here:

It's interesting where the wiring in our brain that controls memories can take us when we're sick, moving through loss, and experiencing our fifties. Yes, I've found some examples of the diorama ornaments on eBay, but have only ordered one... for now.

I spent four or five days painting, glittering, and stifling leftover coughs before assembling the tree to display the results. The ornaments aren't precious to me, but the process, while messy, was enjoyable and such a nice way to travel down Memory Lane.

Magpie Más

2022-07-06T17:19:00.000-05:00

Look at what was waiting for me at home after a quick road trip to St. Louis with The Teenager to see The Eldest! Magical millinery, lace, ribbons, ephemera, picks, buttons, cards, beadwork and more, all from my creative, thoughtful and spirit-affirming friend, Sheila. It's obvious she ~gets~ my magpie-más tendencies.

Look! My initials in sparkly, spangly glory!

The clothing labels, beadwork on lace, and millinery flowers and leaves will be arranged, displayed, sorted through, and thoroughly enjoyed as I select the perfect touches for whatever creations my imagination dreams up. I love the look, feel, and age of every piece. Beauty endures as does friendship, even during stressful and chaotic times.

Thank goodness.

Thank you, Sheila.

Love,

Magpie Michaele

My Mother's Lessons

2022-02-08T10:44:00.003-06:00

When you're mad at someone don't hit walls (me in my teens), rather, crochet (or knit, or embroider, or do cross-stitch, or bake bread and punch the living hell out of it) and turn your anger and frustration into something useful.

If you earned something, stand your ground and keep it.

Private snark and inside jokes are healthy. Cruelty to others is not.

Children don't need stage mothers when they're pursuing their own interests and dreams.

Music is essential. Pavarotti, Gordon Lightfoot, the soundtrack from Camelot, ABBA, Charles Aznavour, beautiful arrangements of Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring, Seals and Crofts, Simon and Garfunkel, and Paul Simon solo, especially this song which she would play on repeat during drives to Fairbanks from Delta Junction figured prominently in my youth:

Recipes are important and so is sharing them. Sour cream chicken enchiladas, "fabulous franks," homemade white bread and sugar cookies were staples of my childhood. The enchiladas and cookies have traveled with me as a wife, teacher and mother and I've shared their recipes far and wide.

Name your vehicle because you're going to talk to it a lot. The first car I remember my mother owning when I was a very young child was named Piglet.

Collect what you like even if your tastes don't match others. She started me on porcelain thimbles and small lidded boxes, while I eventually became drawn to Noritake Occupied Japan platters and Russian lacquer.

Have a hobby, even a simple one like reading so you'll never be bored or scared when the lights go out. They went out a LOT in Alaska, which made owning candles and oil lamps essential, too. She had more of those than flashlights and batteries, saving the latter to give to grandchildren for reading under the covers.

Be ready to fight, and it's okay if you cry during it. You don't have to win, but you do have to leave a big enough mark so that everyone else knows to leave you alone, which was made easier after she started buying me steel-toed hiking boots. The advice and footwear came in handy during my years in Alaska, except in regard to the crazy girls who tried to run me down with their three-wheelers and vans. Villages (and teenage girls) can be intense.

Support colleagues when they need and deserve it.

Short hair works on women (she resembled Liza Minelli in my youth).

When someone bans a book, it's time to buy it, read it, and pass it on. If you really find it meaningful, buy another copy for your bookshelf. Our last conversation included Maus, society's painful responsibilities and obligations, and the idiocy of some people.

Students have power. Kids need and can handle (in many cases) the truth, and should know that there are trusted adults that aren't necessarily their parents to whom they can go and ask.

Creativity is key. Short on toys and a dollhouse that I wanted, Mom took out all of the gameboards from their boxes and gave me her scarves and small knickknacks so I could build my own.

Make Christmas magical for your children.

Cats are wonderful companions.

Learn to swear in other languages. Learn to speak other vocabularies, too.

Red is a power color, and big jewelry is armor.

Always say "thank you," but don't be afraid to go all Faye-Dunaway-as-Joan-Crawford if need be.

You don't ~need~ a man (but it's okay to want one).

*****

There were also plenty of life lessons that I learned from my mother that steered me into making radically different decisions than she did, and I know she felt a sting every time she witnessed them. She passed away in her bed, perhaps in her sleep, this past weekend. Naturally, I'm reflecting on the evolution of our relationship and admittedly, the absence of her anchoring presence is both jarring and a relief. Her advice, be it sage or adopted from others, would have been doubly beneficial if she had applied it to herself, which was maddening. Knowing better was rarely followed up by doing better, which would have to be my biggest criticism of her, in a nutshell.

I've missed her raucous laughter for decades now, as depression, a reluctance to seek therapy, a deeply ingrained desire to keep up appearances, and finally, a diagnosis of dementia perpetually delayed timely help. She was no saint and she certainly sinned, but she gave me life, and ultimately decided against placing me with the Catholic orphanage in Texas that she had us visit when I was age three or four. I remember the orphanage's vast doll collection in glass cases along one wall of the building's main entry, and I remember her asking me if I'd like to "live with all of the beautiful dolls." She raised me after all, a single mother in the 70s, 80s and beyond, just one example of her Mouseketeer generation. Memories can be a burden, and I have often wondered if dementia was going to be helpful in lightening that load for her. She was human, and with her recent passing, my examination of her in retrospect is raw.

I anticipate that the smell of Shalimar (or the exceptionally rare Jungle Gardenia), the taste of date and marmalade pastry cookies, and of course, certain music playing in malls and elevators will trigger her memory at odd times for the remainder of my life. Using the items that she gave to me during moments of clarity that shortly later, in her fog, she accused me of stealing from her will be bittersweet, at least for a while. Perhaps, one day, I'll meet more of her not-so-secrets that I will continue to have no choice but to accept and possibly forgive. This week, however, begins my lesson on how to refer to her as "Mom" and "Grammy" in the past tense. Acknowledging that I will continue to love her because of and in spite of herself and sharing the best lessons that she imparted to me as my mother are simply life's newest dance steps, added to a continuing choreography for which I am grateful.

Rest, Mom.

Heart to Heart Swap 2021: Woven Heart Ornaments

2021-02-13T09:27:00.002-06:00

After a two-year-long stretch of crochet-crochet-crochet, I was overjoyed to discover that Sarah was reviving her Heart to Heart Swap in mini-form for 2021. Here are the goodies (photos lifted from her blog) I've made in years past:

For this year's swap ornaments, I wanted to move away from both yarn and paper, but couldn't shake the idea of Swedish woven hearts (Aunt Annie has a great tutorial), probably because I remembered making them as an elementary student a loooooooooooooooooong time ago. This year I am teaching kindergarten students remotely: I'm at school, they're at home. I've been experiencing serious kid-craft withdrawals this year, so partnered with nostalgia, I just couldn't resist. Instead of weaving paper, I pulled out a few fat quarters and some vintage hankies:

Tish-Tish helped to sort the hankies.

The fabric was easy to pin and cut...

... but the weaving part was a little more difficult than it would have been with paper.

Pins, pins and more pins were needed to keep everything in place.

I sewed the sides of each heart closed, leaving the tops open, and left all of the edges frayed.

Once the hearts were sewn it was time to figure out the bits and bobs.

Vintage sampler ribbon, Tim Holtz keys, lace medallions and glitter hearts all worked, thanks to the mixed fabrics.

Burgundy t-shirt strips became hanging loops.

Party streamers and red sparkle garland lined the treat bags, while Dove chocolate filled each heart.

I used mini clothespins to clip the hearts closed.

The larger woven heart in the center was my prototype.

... and appreciating the kindness of Sarah and all of the other swap participants, it was easy to come up with a theme for my ornaments:

A short time after sending the box of my woven hearts to Sarah, I received these in return (with an extra of my own ornament):

I LOVE them, and so appreciate the creative talents and sharing nature of Sarah and all of this year's swap participants.

Happy Valentine's Day!

One Afghan Per Month, 2020 Edition

2020-12-31T11:14:00.006-06:00

It’s been such a long time, hasn’t it? A year or so, or more, perhaps. But here we are, ready to leave 2020 in the past and brace ourselves for 2021 while keeping a weathered eye on a horizon filled with hope. How did the second year of my #OneAfghanPerMonth resolution turn out? Very well, in fact, with the help of Buck and Tish-Tish:

January

February

I made this afghan in these colors twice this year. The first was given as a gift to a friend of Dear Daughter's, but I loved it so much I made another for myself in July.

March

April

May

June

July

August

September

October

November

December

This afghan has a few more rows to go, so perhaps it will be finished by this evening... but I'm not terribly worried about it because 1) I've obviously met my quota of one-afghan-per-month for this year and 2) it's 2020, at least for a few more hours.

What a year.

Thank goodness for #crochet.

Happy New Year, fellow "hookers!"

*****

You can see last year's #OneAfghanPerMonth blankets here.

Twinkle Lights Perspective

2020-06-05T13:16:00.001-05:00

Most of the little chores on my to-do list were wrapped up yesterday, and my summer education workshop begins next Monday. I've been learning a lot about shared and unshared histories and present-days like many of you this week, which has been emotionally draining and oh-so-necessary. I decided to take a break this morning to do a little something for myself in my crafty nook.

I thought I'd just be putting up twinkle lights in the window and across the cubbies of yarn, and doing a little dusting. I know... twinkle lights? I've loved them for so long, but cannot bring myself to go all out Christmas-in-June-Instead-of-July because... I just can't. There's a glimmer of hope in the back of my mind that December will be a happier, healthier time, and more peaceful to boot, so I want to keep holiday magic off in the distance and something to which I can look forward. Also, nothing feels terribly celebratory at the moment. I just need some... softness.

I ended up shifting my craft table, card catalog, green chairs and side table too, nothing difficult or strenuous. This weekend when I work with some jewelry assemblage pieces, I'll be able to see out of the window instead of looking directly at the same desk and wall that I sat at for hours on end, March through May, for "continuous learning."

I needed a change, nothing drastic, just a slightly different view. I made sure to tuck my classroom materials away, all except for my rainbow pointer because it just looks at home in my tool carousel. I put up the twinkle lights and pulled out some small drawers full of jewelry bits and bobs. I found my copy of The Jewelry Recipe Book and I listened to Bon Iver's RABi on repeat.

It was a good morning.

I know, I know, I need to make a throw rug for those fun mystery spots on the floor. They're not wet, they don't smell, and I haven't got a clue.

But I've got yarn... and twinkle lights... and a fresh perspective. I can remedy this problem.

*****

We can remedy this one:

“I'd rather be a hypocrite than the same person forever.” -Adam 'Ad-Rock' Horovitz #BlackLivesMatter pic.twitter.com/KLJkiOuaPA
— Tom (@scarecrowbar) June 4, 2020

Cookie Baking Tutorial for Janay

2020-06-03T14:16:00.000-05:00

Oh Janay, I didn't forget about your request for a cookie baking tutorial! Here's a slideshow, with the recipe and directions following below:

The cookie recipe I like to use is a version of the "famous department store" recipe published years ago. It's got a great base for different add-ins: you can make chocolate chip oatmeal cookies, or cinnamon raisin spice oatmeal cookies, or oatmeal with macadamia nuts and craisins... with oatmeal being a constant.

Preheat your oven to 375 degrees F, and line baking sheets with parchment paper (NOT foil).

Ingredients:

2 sticks of butter, salted or un; room temperature
2 eggs
1 cup of granulated sugar
1 cup of pressed brown sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp to 1 tsp salt

Mix the above together until it begins to resemble the texture of frosting.

Add and mix:

2 cups quick oats
1 cup chocolate chips (or a bit more)
1 cup pecan pieces

OR

2 cups quick oats
1 cup chocolate chips
1 cup M&M baking minis

OR

2 cups quick oats
1 cup chocolate chips (or a bit more)
1 cup shredded coconut (which will make the cookies VERY sweet)

Mix until the cookie dough sticks to the mixer paddle, cleaning much of the sides of the bowl. The dough will still feel sticky to the touch (especially if it's a humid day) but should NOT be wet. I use a cookie scoop (like a mini ice-cream scoop) to measure out similarly sized blobs of dough.

I have large cookie sheets that easily hold fifteen cookie balls (or more, depending upon the recipe) each, so after I smooth each blob out (I don't try to compress or hard-pack the dough) I place it on the sheet and gently press it down. I don't want it flat like a pancake, just flat enough to keep it from rolling.

I bake the dough for 11-13 minutes (depends on how hot my oven is running, or if it reheats mid-bake) and remove the pan from the oven to cool for five minutes on a rack. The cookies are still puffed up or inflated looking at this point: they flatten out and firm up as they cool. After five or more minutes, I remove each cookie from the sheet and put them on the lower levels of the cooling rack to finish hardening.

Then it's time to INHALE, er, "taste-test" a cookie.

(These were oatmeal/chocolate chip/M&M baking minis cookies.)

*****

I hope this helps! Happy cookie-baking!

~Michaele~

Last Year's Resolution: Afghan Review

2020-01-01T15:32:00.003-06:00

Last New Year's Eve I made my first-in-a-long-time resolution, to crochet one afghan per month.

How did I do?

January:

February:

March:

April:

May:

June:

July:

August:

September:

October:

November:

... and December:

There were also these:

I even made a little beagle blankie:

None of the afghans would have been possible without the aid of my two helpers, Tish-Tish and Buck who regularly offered their supervisory talents throughout the year:

There's another afghan in progress on the couch that I started in December, so I've already got a head start on this year's crochetpalooza as I'm still feeling very inclined to keep up production. My favorite patterns so far have been the log cabin (February, April and the pink/red/gray/white color block) and virus (all those pretty scallop-ey blankets), but I'm also looking forward to working another waffle stitch (August) and more stars in the months to come.

2019's resolution was a productive one, making it possible to give a bit of myself to special friends and family, which has meant ever so much after last year's health adventures and my recent fiftieth birthday.

Who else has made a resolution to focus on creative pursuits?

It's the Little Things

2019-10-28T07:00:00.000-05:00

I forgot to mention in my last blogpost that I found the sweetest addition to my papercrafting tool collection at Junkstock...

A paper cutter! Isn't it cute?

What do you mean, you "don't get it?"

How about now?

No? How about ~now~:

It's so small! It's a MINI paper cutter! And oh yes, it REALLY does cut, just as well as my standard-sized one:

It really can be the little things that make a person happy.

Junkstock with Jodi, 2019

2019-10-27T12:35:00.004-05:00

Somehow between rounds of a tummy bug and a six-day-flu battle, I managed to score enough healthy days to spend a weekend with my lifelong friend, Jodi, at Junkstock 2019. Catching up, enjoying some laughter and discovering new-to-us treasures, we couldn't help but revel in the hours where we could escape our responsibilities, chores, and worries.

Adulting can be hard, right? This is where pumpkin houses, Volkswagons decorated with mums and lots of creative vendors come to the rescue:

We found some nods to our shared Alaska history:

Our musical demographic was well-represented too (name that song!):

And seasonal goodies could be found 'round every corner:

I treated myself to a wood and leather watch (don't worry, I eventually took the protective plastic cover off of the face):

... and Jodi and I bought ourselves some sweet and even sassy treasures for home (our "Ew, People" and "Suck it up, Buttercup" shirts ROCK, despite me somehow missing taking photos of them):

Here's to the next thirty-five years of our friendship, Jodums. I love you.

Thank you, Junkstock!

At Last: The Return of the Crafty Nook

2019-08-25T16:26:00.000-05:00

For two years, my crafty nook has served double-duty as my grad school homework hub and unfortunately, a storage room for the materials I used to regularly create with. Books and notebooks here, syllabi and portfolio standards there, and yarn everywhere else. My Bunnies by the Bay collection collected dust. My soldering wand was rarely used. No new paper banners or bunting were made.

Mid-summer, and oh-so-near the end of my master's project (a week before, to be exact), I ended up having a hysterectomy (hallelujah!), which postponed my craft room reset for over a month. Not even allowed back to work until last Friday, I decided that this was the weekend to reclaim my space.

I cleaned off my desktop computer, updated its OS... vacuumed... selected which textbook essentials to keep within reach and which to put away... brought two small plants downstairs... discovered my teacher's bag hadn't been cleaned out and washed since spring... and found a whole stack of magazines and a few books that I had acquired during my master's program still waiting to be read.

Though I still have some school stuff on my desk (school-school, not grad school), the space is looking and feeling so much more like what I originally intended it to be and what it had been prior to my return to college: my crafty retreat. My space, where I don't compromise or try to please anyone else including professors, administrators, colleagues, students, friends, children or my spouse is a must-have for me. I can see my yarn. My bunnies are clean, small artwork is displayed, and I can come down whenever I want to and enjoy every bit of the space without avoiding or neglecting all of the projects I very much want to undertake.

Take a look (it's rainy and gloomy outside, cozy inside):

Even Tish-Tish approves.

So, It Turns Out... I Have Some Yarn

2019-06-01T15:45:00.001-05:00

I've finished five afghans in five months: yay, me!

In need of June crochet inspiration, I meandered downstairs to the crafty nook to look through my yarn.

Some was here, some was there...

Oh, and some was over in that corner. Oh, oh, don't forget the basket, too! Skeins, cakes, balls.

And then I began pulling furniture away from the wall, because, well, why not:

... emptying all of my cubby shelves (the floor is a disaster) and stacking them upright:

Then filling in each cubby so I could see exactly what I have, and realizing:

**Goodness**

I need more cubbies.

~Cough~

~COUGH-COUGH-COUGH~

No, no, I'm not going to show you the floor, because I actually need to rethink the layout of my entire craft room now. That's right: while trying to figure out what yarn to use for my June afghan, I ended up in ye olde redecorate mode.

~Sigh~

With only a day left before my last semester of graduate school starts (the end is nigh, the end is nigh!) I won't be crocheting tomorrow. I'll be redecorating.

No, I still haven't figured out which yarn to use for June.

Yes, I need to go get more cubbies and do a whole lot of rearranging.

And I need to find my floor, because... wow.

Just... wow.

January Afghan and Hello, Tish-Tish

2019-01-20T09:43:00.001-06:00

Maybe it was the pace of the holidays or my need for lots and lots of sleep or the joy that resulted after visiting the local humane society with Dear Daughter, but I neglected... forgot... to make new year resolutions.

While looking through my yarn stash I thought of one: crochet one blanket per month. My husband had just added the perfect mountain of yarn to my collection, fourteen cakes of Mandala Wool-Ease in "Hades," so the opportunity and motivation were there to start on January 1.

Oh, and she's been here every step of the way. Readers, meet Tish-Tish (short for Morticia), Tish-Tish, Readers:

A few months ago I followed along with BellaCoco'sYouTube tutorial teaching viewers how to crochet a virus blanket, and the pattern has become my new favorite. For this afghan, I double-stranded the Mandala trying to make sure I wasn't holding two matching runs of color together (I pulled from two cakes at a time) and used a 5.25 mm (I) hook. The afghan worked up relatively quickly, and after close to fourteen full cakes, almost covers the top of my king-sized bed.

I'm not planning on making every monthly blanket as large, and I'm allowing myself some simple ripple/chevron baby blankets to contribute to the mix so I can build up my supply of baby shower gifts and keep my sanity during this semester of teaching AND graduate school. My idle hands need projects during t.v. time with my family and blankets are cuddle time essentials, right?

I'm also not certain Tish-Tish will fully accommodate my resolution as she's turning out to be an I-want-to-cuddle-on-your-chest-UNDER-a-blankie kitty. Every... single... night.

Did you make any crafty-crochet-hobby resolutions for 2019?

*****

You can see more of Tish-Tish on Instagram! #IAmTishTish