Cabin Fever

In the process of piecing this quilt together, I threw the biggest, most magnanimous temper tantrum that puts my Irish twins to shame. When living with toddlers do as toddlers do, right? Now, I honestly can't remember why. I know it had something to do with the sashing, and a couple of the squares don't line up quite right, but the proverbial straw is elusive.

In the end it looks okay, I hope. I spent so much time on this quilt. Actually, focusing on each step, to ensure that I didn't botch it last minute. Good intentions and all that. Of course the one little step I chose to overlook is pretty much the most important. Karma.

Originally, this quilt was for Nins, but upon closer inspection of my children's bedroom they each have piles upon piles of blankets on their beds, all of them handmade, three made by me. So this one is designated to the living room, keeping friends with the Cozy Cottage blanket. They're best buds.

Sewing is hard. Quilting is harder. I lack the patience for it, but I'm learning. I'm not sure why. I don't seem to have the passion that many of my favorite sewist/bloggers have. I'm a bit into metaphors so the I find the idea of taking something, fabric, yarn, floss and turning it into something else appealing. A creative outlet. Stress inducing stress relief.

Anyway, about this quilt. I bought the fabric from various places and have no idea about the brand names. I tend not to notice them too much unless I'm making something really specific or if I see something that I absolutely love. (Anyone else totally and completely anxiously awaiting the release of Somer by Sarah Jane. I swear that lady can do no wrong.)

The color scheme is reminiscent of one my earliest memories living in the UK. I was playing in the garden (which my mother had carefully cultivated with beautiful flowers that she can tell you the names of) when clouds covered the sun, so I ran inside and changed into warmer clothes, continued playing, then the sun reappeared, and I ran inside to change back into the warm-weather clothes. I must have changed at least half a dozen times. The mix of the grey and yellow and "rain-drops" and flowers all remind me of that memory. And the strawberries, oh the fresh strawberries.

I followed what I think is the typical Log Cabin fashion with 3 inch squares in the middle surrounded by 2 inch strips. One (or maybe two) of the blocks got a little off somehow so I had to add an extra strip to one side before adding the border to the sides. Sew and learn, and all that.

I used a flat sheet I picked up from a local thrift store as the backing and hand-quilted the squares. I was surprised to learn that one of the local quilting stores does not carry hand-quilting thread and received such a look of confusion and was pretty much told it was a waste of my time, which I guess it would be when you have uber fancy machines that can guarantee you a finished quilt in four days or it's free. But I like hand quilting. Or at least I liked it until I poked a hole in my finger, thimbles are around for a reason. I used a scrappy binding of all the left over 2 inch strips and discovered a super cool tutorial from Missouri Star Company on binding using one of the fancy stitches. I am pretty pleased about the binding. For some reason that is the part that scares me most on quilts and I was glad to switch it up from straight stitch.

So that brings my quilt count for this year to the grand total of ONE. Wowzas. I really didn't do the half of what I wanted. Better luck next year! I already have plans and fabric so hopefully I will manage to complete more than one in 2016. 

R & R

I did almost zero crafting last week. One kiddo got a bit sick and needed to be "quarantined" from the other kiddos. Baby is getting another tooth and going through a growth spurt. All of this together, at the same time has been rough. I definitely hit a rut with crafting. Did I take on too much? Maybe. Did I lose a bit of inspiration? Yep. Did I read two books instead of taking out Lady Jane? You know it.

For some reason, I struggle, a lot, with the balance between reading vs. crafting. Why is there a struggle, you may ask. That crazy little construct; that thing we all wish we had more of; that fleeting element that the more children I have seems to disappear before I know what I'm doing. Time.

Plus, I love me some books. Truly, ask my mum to show you a video of when the final HP came in from Amazon (on second thought don't, because it's really embarrassing, just know that I love books and made quite a ruckus when she announced that the package had arrived and then spent the rest of the day consumed in words).  But, I also love me some crafting. That sentence is actually quite hard to write, but I don't think I can deny it any more: I love crafting. I struggle and am at my most humble when in front of the sewing machine but I'm also super duper excited when things go right. Or even if they go wrong my family tells me it (whatever it may be) looks great. The girls love their dresses and the other day at church someone asked me where I got them. Biggest compliment EVER!

I work 40 hours a week. I like my job; I like to think I'm good at my job. But that's 8 hours out of every day (8 of which are for sleeping) so that's 16 hours already eaten up. Plus, having four children eats up a lot of time. In an amazingly great way, but once they are asleep I only really have 2 hours to be with my husband, finish up an extra chores, Netflix binge, craft or read. I don't have a designated sewing space so sometimes it honestly feels like more of a chore to get everything out and set up, sew for an hour and a half just to put it all away again. It gets tiring. And I'm already tired. Plus, I haven't figured out how to read and stitch and sew at the same time. Really, what I'm saying is that I have no finished projects. BUT I have several almost finished projects.

The other thing I can say is that of the Wrinkle in Time series I think that Swiftly Tilting Planet may just be my favorite. I love the complexity of characters and the plot and the relationships between Meg and Charles Wallace and everyone else. Connection. Human connection. It was nice to be reminded that in one way or another we are all connected. 

Lucia's light

I absolutely love this holiday! I am so pleased we instituted it last year and that everyone was on-board, nay, excited and insistent to do it again this year. I'm pretty sure this is now a hard and fast tradition and I couldn't be more pleased. A lot of time with traditions it feels like I am forcing things that no one really wants to do, but not St. Lucia. This is a holiday everyone in the house gets on board for (even if it is just for the food).

We started the festivities on Saturday by visiting the lights at gorgeous Temple Square. We met husband's sister, ate an early dinner, explored the incredible City Creek Mall (the fire in the fountains was a big hit), and munched on Rocky Mountain Chocolate. So delicious.  We heard rather than saw the nativity presentation, there were so many people and it was super chilly. But soul filling.

I made Nins a brand new St. Lucia dress (using the same Geranium pattern as her Thanksgiving dress, but lengthened the skirt and fully lined the inside since you know, white). Her one last year was a haphazardly, patched together old t-shirt of mine that was here Leia dress for Halloween; so this year, I made her one special. Traditionally, the oldest daughter wears a crown of candles, though usually electric ones are used until about 12. Of course, this year I ran out of time to make the crowns, next year. We ate heartily on Swedish pancakes for breakfast (so so good) and homemade Swedish meatballs for dinner while listening to this beautiful video surrounded by the soft light of candles.

There couldn't be a more perfect time for this holiday; the days sure are short here in the valley and the nights are long, but I love any excuse to turn my tree lights on at four in the afternoon (heck if I'm home they are on all day). This beautiful festival of light was originally held on what was thought to be the shortest day of the year or Winter Solstice. It proclaims light and joy and hope.  Perfect for paving the way for Christmas where the birth of the light of the world is celebrated.

Thanksgiving Geraniums

Growing up, my parents instituted dressing up for major holidays. Imagine my papa dressed to the nines -- waistcoat, bow tie, and cuff links -- sticking his arm up a goose's bum for Christmas dinner. Yep, it's amazing. When we moved to the States, we welcomed the same tradition for Thanksgiving, but substituting the goose for a turkey. It's a tradition I haven't really stuck to with my own family unfortunately, but as we were visiting my parents this year, I wanted to make 'special' Thanksgiving dresses for the girls (maybe I'll get to making waistcoats or button-ups for the boys next year).

I bought Rae's Geranium dress (both bundles since my girls fall into age categories that span both sizes). It's the very first time I have actually succeeded at making a dress  that not only looks like a dress, but can actually be worn. (insert hands on face/mouth open emoji)

For Wookie's dress, I got the fabric from JoAnn's during that frenzy I talked about. It's such a sweet floral pattern and I really enjoyed working with it. The first go around with the bodice was more difficult than anticipated, especially with the "U" cutout that Rae uses in her dresses; so, after one failed attempt, I opted for the regular round neckline.

I tried the "U" cutout with Nins' and had better results. But Lady Jane (my machine) has decided that buttonhole making is an overrated venture. I'm really disappointed and am hoping to take her to a specialist or at least someone who knows more than I and getting the function fixed. No matter what I try the buttonhole function won't work properly. It bunches, and stalls, and unravels, and restarts in a different place, and won't measure the button correctly, and the foot won't hold the button even when it's shut it will gradually expand as the machine moves. It's a mess. I've followed the manual exactly. I've Googled, and read blogs, and researched, and watched videos, and still can't get it right.

So I used hooks and eyes to close the dresses. It's not my favorite and as Wookie says, "I don't love that." But it will suffice for now.

Leaving Before the Rains Come and Yarn

I have been having so much trouble sticking to one book or one project. It feels like every five minutes or so I'm switching it up, starting something new, or just adding a few stitches here and there before quitting and doing something completely different. In the last month, I had read the first 5-10 pages of three different books, before settling down; then I undid the whole chevron blanket because it was driving me crazy. Gaping holes in the valleys and a general dissatisfaction with the look led me to pull it all apart and begin again with a much simpler, more rhythmic pattern---Lucy's granny stripe. Part of why I like crochet is that I can lose myself a bit. My focus can drift and yet my hands keep moving because they know what they're doing especially with a pattern like the granny stripe. But even with the simplest of patterns, somewhere there's a snag. Like this wonderful ball of yarn (standing as the metaphor of my life). It's one enormous mess, but somewhere, somehow structure emerges, at least I hope I can get this yarn (and my life) to cooperate and make something beautiful out of both.

I've just finished Leaving before the rains come, by Alexandra Fuller. It is such a beautiful, haunting read. Her imagery and descriptions are stunning. I love how the past is interspersed with the present, showing how time is a man-made invention insufficient for its purpose. The fluidity of time is so fitting of real life. Nebulous not static. Events don't occur of themselves; events occur within a given context, a specific place, with specific people, and after they have occurred they are never really finished; they are recalled again and again in different context and situations so that they take upon them the additional memories created by new events.

I had to limit myself to just a few favorite quotes to give you a taste of Fuller's writing:

"The truth is, most of the things that change the course of ourlives happen fleeting unguarded moments; grief buckling us at the knees; fear shattering through us like buckshot; love pulling us out on an unseen tide. And finding ourselves in the grip of these overpowering emotions, we then invent reasons based on the flimsy evidence we have accrued why they have happened, trying to make sense of the insensible with armloads of self-justification distortions, and deliberate misinterpretations" (23-4).

"It is the perpetuating tragedy of all families: each of us believing our congenital pathologies and singular pains end with us. We think of ourselves as individual dammed rivers, the blood of generations stopped up in our veins, the accumulated habits of a lifetime ceasing at the border of our skins. We don't think of our present, our current conditions, and our immediate decisions as incurable infections or persisting gifts that will cross through porous vectors of inheritance and time and blossom into the future. In spite of biblically ancient warnings, we don't think of our choice...as contaminating or blessing not only ourselves but also our children, their children unto the third and fourth generations" (129). 

"I thought then of the collective memory of land, of the ways in which people and animals and geological events cannot help but leave scars, sculpt wonders, and weave stories onto its cover" (167). 

"There is no loneliness quite like the loneliness that comes from living without ancestors, without the constant lively accompaniment of the dead" (186).

Isn't her word choice incredible? I recently saw a meme-thing about how every book that was ever written consists of the same 26 letters in different orders. Mind-blown. It's something so simple and yet so beautiful, hopefully like Rose & Toast, and this blanket, and my life. Simple. Beautiful.

Linked to Ginny's Yarn Along

Free Book Contest/Giveaway from Rudiments and Sundry

Check out this awesome and inventive giveaway from Rudiments and Sundry! 

I wrote a little bit about the book here and would highly recommend reading it. Plus the giveaway itself gives you the chance to stretch your creative wings by making a parody of "Let it go" from Frozen which will hopefully bring in some pretty hilarious comments! So head over to Rudiments and Sundry (dot) com for a chance to win a free copy of Marius Briggs and the Bonnie Pretender.

It's What I Do: A Photographer's Life of Love and War by Lynsey Addario

I had fully intended to have finished the cross stitch I've been working on and have a post ready for today, alas, I was thwarted in my plans. Though I do have an amazing book to share: 

I am shamed to admit that I had never heard of Lynsey Addario prior to reading about her in Freya's post proclaiming her excitement about the upcoming book. That one sentence, not even a full sentence, mentioned the book with a bit about how she (Addario) balances photojournalism with having a family. The last couple chapters deal with this balance in particular, but the rest of the 341 paged book is jam-packed with Lynsey's beautifully tragic, remarkably courageous and joyfully uplifting journey in the career of photojournalism.

I was completely blown away by this memoir. I cried...a lot. At one point, I even had to close the book for a bit of a breather. And yet her words continued and I was insatiable with my desire to finish this book only hoping that it would magically sprout pages so that I would never be finished. The cliche of living a life through someone else's words were never more true than they were in this book and I am so gratefully glad that I read them from the comfort of my bed and living room.

Lynsey is admirable in her quest for beauty in some of the most tragic circumstances: "It seemed paradoxical to try to create beautiful images out of conflict...Trying to convey beauty in war was a technique to try to prevent the reader from looking away or turning the page in response to something horrible. I wanted them to linger, to ask questions" (190). Her memoir stands as a testament to the truth of this statement.

She is also poetic in her descriptions of the places and people she visits:"Everything that make India the rawest place on earth made it the most wonderful to photograph. The streets hummed with constant movement, a low-grade chaos where almost every aspect of the human condition was in public view" (52).

And, "Mohammed's wrinkled map of a face reflected a lifetime of war, repression, and poverty, and obscured any trace of his youth" (64).

Her description of motherhood left me reeling from its unequivocal accuracy: "My dreams for my child were the same ones that I knew compelled so many women around the world to fight for their families against the most unimaginable odds" (335). What mama bear wouldn't fight to keep their cubs safe?

Coupled with the realization that in motherhood, "somewhere along the way my mortality began to matter" (341). I think there are moments when every mother realizes, one way or another, that their own mortality matters. That there are little people, and some big people, who are dependent on them completely. The situation doesn't have to be as dire as being kidnapped (twice) as Lynsey has, but can merely be a close call in the car or a slip on wet grass.

I loved this book and recommend it wholeheartedly.