Sewing Tired - Avoid It!

I sewed two cushions today and the second one took me twice as long to make as the first. What went wrong?

• I pinned the wrong sides together. Twice.
• I sewed an edge so crooked, it looked like I'd had a very strong gin & tonic beforehand. (Once) I had not had a gin & tonic. Though it sounds nice, come to think...
• I  sewed the wrong edges together. (Once).
• I tried to fix a mistake through some creative rejigerring. The rejigerring did not make the problem go away, it made it worse.
• I trimmed the problem edge, thereby cutting into the fabric. 
• I sewed another seam, burying the pinked slash job deep within. No one need know.
• This made the resulting cushion cover too small.
• This means you can never look at the back side of the cushion!

Still, I've been looking at four cushion fillers still in their package for about two months now. And few weeks ago, I had never made a cushion cover, so I'm happy. Very happy! One more to go, but only once I'm rested.

P.S. I think I just made up the word rejigerring.

Popular Music for EVERYBODY!

I love vintage album covers. Love 'em! This one, called 'Popular Music That Will Live Forever' caught my eye in a bin outside a used bookstore yesterday. In fact I liked it so much I took photos of each and every section on this cover and snorted (not really) again with joy this morning when I looked at the photos again. 

But why, Pam, why do you like it so much? I have been thinking about that, and well, first of all I just love the art. I love the sugary-sweet pastel tones that remind me of the tri-colour tag team of fairy godmothers in Disney's Cinderella. I love the crisp primary colours used in the marching band section! And I also love the swoony moon-tones of the couple dancing vignette - look at the way he's looking at her - as well as the Eiffel Tower scene. Upon further reflection, I also realized I like the optimism of it, the happy lack of irony. Even the title is optimistic. I mean maybe this music will last forever; I didn't check the song list so I can't speculate. That said, everlasting popularity is a tall order. 

Lastly, I like the suggestion that everything you need here in terms of a well-rounded survey of 'good' music is right here under one cover. If you have a cocktail party, a BBQ or even a dinner party, there's sure to be something in this boxed set that will be just right. Need something elevated? Lively? Romantic? Something that hints of exotic shores? Just push the little lever to 33 rpms and drop that needle!

I'm just going to let these images speak for themselves. I will say this, however - I love them all, but the one directly above of the musicians makes me squeal with delight. And that's true, too - I won't cop to making that snorting sound, but when I'm very happy, as I was when I saw this, I kind of let out an "EEEEEEEeeeeeeeeee!" sound.

      A little John Phillips Souza on the Fourth, perhaps?

Or Andre Kostelanetz?

                       

               And it's Cyclophonic!

Readers, I HEAR you!

Photo courtesy of Cookie.

This garden shed in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin was made entirely from yellow popsicle sticks! Nuts!



I HEAR you, and I RAISE you!!!

Since my last post, I have received thousands of emails from readers around the world, many sharing their own stories about the soothing effects of crafty pursuits. Colin from Toronto, Canada writes:

"Dear Pam,


Your post of finding comfort in creativity REALLY resonated with me. I had no idea I was even interested in that kind of shite, until one night my wife left her knitting project on the coffee table. Out of sheer listlessness, I picked it up and added a few rows. (This really surprised me, because I didn't even know I knew how to knit!) Anyway, four days and one albeit itchy rainbow toque later, I was done. The time flew by! Where did it go? I don't know where it went! People at work were trying to reach me and I didn't even hear my phone, which is just how I like it!


All to say, I seriously get where you're coming from."

Gin in Vancouver, British Columbia wrote to tell me that making her own undergarments gives her a real sense of accomplishment:

"With each pair of cotton pants I sew, I see my tailoring technique improve. I experiment with different thicknesses of elastic, too, to see what works best for me. I love knowing my underwear is as unique as I am!"

Cookie in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin sent me photos of her new backyard gardening shed, constructed entirely from popsicle sticks!

"My husband Martin and I put out a call to the entire community to save their popsicle sticks. The grade five class at Eisenhower Elementary School alone contributed 7, 536 sticks! They also sent along a few dozen egg carton trays of radish plants to get our garden started. Now when I'm doing the dishes, I look out and see the shed that the town of Lake Geneva, Wisconsin built, but only we can use! I can't recommend this kind of scheme community project enough!"

Andrea in Montreal, Canada called to tell me she left rice cakes in my kitchen cupboard while I was out!!!

I wish I could share all the unsolicited emails and letters I've received in the last few days, but we all know that's just asinine not possible. Suffice to say I am so grateful to all of you for sharing your stories, not just with me, but with the world! It's people like you that make me seriously contemplate getting up in the morning!

With love,

Pam

A few quiet minutes...

spent doing something creative is for me, really soothing. On a day when I feel scattered or discombobulated, spending a few minutes doing something as simple as contemplating different patterns and colours helps me sit still, at least in my head. On Sunday I pulled out these embroidery frames and a few fat quarters - leftover fabric that measures about 18" by 22" -  I bought last spring. I didn't figure out what print I wanted to go where until yesterday, but just spending a few minutes handling these things felt really good on a day when sadness was kind of hard to shake. I lived in NYC on 9/11 and though I always want to take pains to clarify that I didn't lose anyone, nor was I close with anyone who did, it was a profoundly sad, life-altering experience. It's not something I think of every day, but I didn't expect how much the memories of that day, the subsequent weeks and months and the chain of events it set off would come thundering back. It does make me remember how lucky I am and how much I have, just by the very fact that I'm here. That life is short and I can't assume I have forever to live the life I want to live. (And ya, I forget that too often!) The point is, just some quiet time spent contemplating creating something felt very, very nice. 

I Fall, You Fall, We All Fall into Fall.

Jean Talon Market, Autumn 2010

These last couple of days have felt so fall-like. A few minutes ago walking along the sidewalk, me and all the others who just spilled out of the metro scurrying home, I noticed a sprinkling of gold leaves beneath my feet. When did this happen? Sure, the occasional tree top has turned to yellow or red, the burnished leaves slowly infiltrating the green below, but falling? Summer's flowers are still out, but now clusters of orange berries dot the low-lying bushes, the kind that hold fast and are subject to being covered by first snows come November. It's starting. to. change.

It's mild out now as I write this, but dark - so dark! The moon is lying full and low in the south-east sky and ringed by clouds. Last night I slept under my comforter and wasn't a bit too warm, today I grabbed a light leather jacket as I ran out the door. Yet my sundresses are still hanging from the bathroom door hook and the basket at the top of my stairs is still overflowing with flip-flops. I always know fall is coming, but why does it still seem to come upon us so fast? I am easily seduced by fresh days, crisp nights and the clash of orange and gold and red against a cornflower-blue sky. By pumpkins at the Atwater Market and bags of Halloween candy by the check-out, and yet, and yet...I have loved this summer. Watching sun-hatted toddlers bobbing in the pool, flipping through magazines or a pulpy book while I dry and then jump in again myself, kids ignoring the lifeguard's admonition not to run, sunlight revealing countless shades of green in the leaves overhead. The feel of a soft breeze on my shoulders and arms and back, windows cracked wide open day and night, and drifting off to sleep to the sounds of U2 performing a couple of miles away. Which was better, the concert the night before or this? How many times do you get to be serenaded to sleep by Bono?

All to say - and I say that a lot, don't I? - that I can't decide if I'm truly seduced by these early days of autumn, or if it's a kind of seasonal Stockholm Syndrome. It's here, it's cooler, it's darker - so go with it! Grab the long-sleeved sweater, snuggle under the down comforter. Seduced? Succumb? I just don't know. I haven't decided.

Globes, Wonderment and Oh, I Dunno...what else?

I spotted these globes last week in a book store in downtown Montreal, one of those places that besides books, tempts you with all kinds of nicknacks like book-ends, Liberty-print gardening tools, candles, sofa throws and well, globes. These are the kinds of things that lead me to picture myself snug at home, reading, pensive, content - not at home, faced with creating a Power Point presentation, tracing my finger across the top of a poster, leading me to forgo the aforementioned presentation, because dusting takes precedence, right? (Let me clarify that at no other time than when I am avoiding something does dusting take precedence).

Anyway, these globes made me think about the light-up globe I had in my room when I was a kid. (Which, if you know me at all, I naturally wish I still owned). I would spin the globe and stop it with a jab of my finger, the spot where it landed indicating the exciting location that would someday be my home. The good thing about being self-employed at the age of seven years old is that if you don't like where your boss is trying to send you (in this case, my finger), you can simply spin the globe again until you've determined the best place for you. Schenectady not exotic enough for you? Spin again! Minsk a little too exotic? Give it the finger!

When we're kids, the world is so inconceivably big and full of wonderment. A place holds untold mysteries, a dinosaur bone conjures worlds of giant lumbering creatures bigger than we can imagine (though I'd still try; big as our house? Would it fit in to St. Francis' schoolyard? Do you think I might find a fossil back where the rhubarb's growing?). Kids see the world in technicolor and - how else can I describe this? - in layers. Layers of mystery and intrigue and connections and questions to be asked, the answers which lead you to yet more questions. (No wonder kids have such a hard time standing still - small bodies filled with so many thoughts!)

I am sure I've lost some of my curiosity, though not deliberately. I think as I've gotten older I feel I have less mental energy to spread. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but the downside is that it gets easier to make conclusions and not even think to question them. Some conclusions are fine to just sit with, but others I sense stopped serving me a long time ago. These are the ones that can paddle my behind, render me stuck and become second nature-type thinking. I think every human being becomes susceptible to this. And if you (like me) can't necessarily catch and re-rout those thoughts right off the bat, my sense is you've won a serious victory by at least pausing long enough to doubt them. Patterns can become so easy to slip into - so comfortable, as I've described them more than once - that it's easy to lose sight of the fact that the life you live as a result of them are anything but comfortable.

This post was supposed to be about my love of travel, how I've wanted to explore the world since I was a kid and still find myself wanting to spend a year or two - at least! - living in Europe. But wonderment led to thinking about curiousity and thought patterns and fear - my theory is that fear has a lot to do with keeping us stuck in those thoughts and actions that deserve to be rendered obsolete - and that led me to where I am right now. And where is that, Pam? Well, wondering how to end this paragraph, over a tasty bowl of Thai shrimp salad my sister just kindly brought me. Oof, I'm stuck...how to end it?

(OK, this post is now officially over)

Things I say to my cats, in no particular order.

1. No. Absolutely, not.

2. I don't think I like your tone of voice. In fact, I'm sure I don't.

3. Keep 'yer pants on!

4. Stop eating Noah's special food! Jesus!

5. Go drink water from your bowl like a normal cat.

6. Godda@m$it!

7. Stop being so adorable, it's unfair/it's a distraction/I find it manipulative.

8. Stop suckling! God, stop it, seriously.

9. Um, I'm sorry, but the last time I checked, I was the boss here.

10. Who did this?

Watch this space for things I enjoy singing to my cats!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"How do I..." (Letter from a loyal reader).

I am so touched when one of my millions of readers reaches out to me with a question. I mean, when you consider they could ask someone like Martha Stewart or Nahm on This Old House, it's really quite humbling. So when Christine in Fayetteville, Arkansas (where the heck is Arkansas, Christine?) wrote me about how to treat a scratch on a vintage piece of furniture, I was happy, but nervous. After all, I'm not an expert. But then I thought, "If Christine in Arkansas thinks I can help her, then I can! Not just can - I must.

The letter/challenge:

Dear Pam:

I've been reading your blog and books for years and I think you're fantastic!

Can you advise me on how I should treat an unsightly scratch on my heirloom teak sauna bath?

Yours truly,

Christine G.

Fayetteville, Arkansas, U.S.A.

Well, Christine, without knowing the exact nature of the injury to your heirloom sauna - what the hell happened, for starters? Were you drinking? And who uses teak to make a tub? - it's hard for me to give a precise response. But I'm thinking that my own tried and true technique of treating scratched furniture might just apply here. The furniture featured in my response is indoor furniture, but I think the scenario applies pretty much any old place. Note: my proffered solution includes using a book, which you might want to place in a baggy due to the proximity of warm, murky water.

Now let's stop writing and focus on the pictures, shall we?

(Look up!!)

First, identify the issue. In the lower left corner of the top photo, you'll see what looks like a small dark speck on your computer screen. Don't be fooled and don't touch your screen! It's actually a scratch in the paint of this nightstand!

When trying to solve a complex problem, I always attempt to start with the easiest solution. In this case, it meant grabbing the closest small, decorative object to cover the scratch. This photo illustrates how that worked out. What do you think?

I thought covering the scratch worked out just fine, but it wasn't enough. While the expanse of blue wood was attractive and allowed one to appreciate the fine grain of the wood, I found myself wondering what was missing. So, I took more objects - in this case a red hardcover book and a small, blue book with dragonflies on it - and covered the scratch with some more stuff. (Please note that you should not feel locked in to using the same types and colours of books - now is the time to trust your judgement).

That's all I've got for you, Christine! Please let me know how this worked out for you! The most important thing is to just have fun with it! That's key!

Sincerely,

Pam