a funeral, sketchy tire shops

by dailies

Tire Store Boy

I lie. The tire shop wasn’t sketchy. It was just a used tire shop, we’re bumped down from the days of Les Schwab and young handsome men running in slow motion out to the car.

I should say, our finances are, though. Sketchy. We’re scraping by to afford our little conference trip. And in the last couple days we’ve had to “emergency” surgery a cat, then “emergency” replace tires that were sprouting a crop of wire. I use the air dick quotes because, I guess it was all emergency stuff. If we didn’t surgery the cat she could have fallen gravely ill (and she was in pain), and if we didn’t fix the tires, we could have crashed on the road. So, damn, kind of non-negotiable expenses.

The kitty is fine. She’s all stitched up and hopped up on kitty drugs. I’m very grateful for her recovery. She is very dear to us.

Nels, a funeral for a bird. He voiced a lovely and earnest and powerful prayer before we buried her.

Bird, Elegy

In other news: cute husband, who has helped create cute daughter. They are dressed as nerds today, for some theme. It works.

Sexy Nerd-Spouse

Beauty/Hipster Glasses

I also gave blood (of course) and my daughter held my hand through it all. Later, Nels rode on the back of the bike and held the basket with my embroidery supplies, for the class I taught. It was fun stitching, and showing people how to do some simple things. One student was an eight year old girl and that was about a thousand percent awesome.

It was good stuff.

working it

by dailies

The hour of my birthday strikes. I’m lying across the bed in my underwear, a two-sizes-too-small vintage Def Leppard shirt with holes on it. Nels is kissing me thirty-five times because that’s how old I am.

I’m tired.

I’m tired from running errands most the day, then clapping and yelling for the Drag Show at the college (here’s a tiny bit of last year’s), then dancing a lot afterwards. I danced my ass off. For like, fifteen minutes. & I hurt my knees doing a few floor slides. I didn’t split my pants or anything, but I did get a considerable back tweak doing the Roger Rabbit in a dance circle.

The show was really beautiful. I’d suggested a friend as MC and she was absolutely fabulous. I also got to see a girlhood friend, the first person I met when moving to Grays Harbor, surprise-propose to her girlfriend via song. That was pretty… amazing. After the dance I went out with friends and had some wonderful food. If I wasn’t so tired I’d be writing all this eloquent stuff about it all.

But yeah. It was a good day, and a good evening.

Nels, dressed up for & checking the fit of his outfit tonight:

Nels In Drag, Checking Fit

***

This moment finds me very sanguine about my birthday. 35 seems such an auspicious number. I have some wonderful things in my life.

My little guy:

Slinking Back To The Pool

My daughter:

Off To The Races
 
Health is the greatest possession. Contentment is the greatest treasure. Confidence is the greatest friend. Non-being is the greatest joy. – Lao Tzu

Nels In Drag, Checking Fit

I am very grateful for many gifts in my life, and when I awake to experience my birthday in earnest, I hope to have as lovely day as I usually do.

we will know won’t we / the stars will explode in the sky

by dailies

It’s quiet in our living room while my husband rests his head in my lap; the kids are in the newly-appointed craft studio in the back of the house. A hot cup of herbal tea freshly brewed sits on the coffee table, forgotten (I’d made it thinking Ralph might find it relaxing). My husband falls in and out of sleep and then after a bit wakes and asks, “Are you bored?”

“No,” I tell him. “I’m thinking. I’m hoping to live a long life with you.”

Ralph is tired. Over-tired. We both are. Tonight the four of us attended a lovely and lively show – the Handsome Little Devils, hosted at the college (talented, hilarious, and so kid-inclusive and wonderful). The show I wouldn’t have missed, but this was after a long day: in my case, running errands and visiting a potential studio locale; then cooking from-scratch cabbage rolls and Guinness Stout cake (for the Conch Shell tomorrow); freezing an apple pie and homemade Hostess cupcakes (for company coming Thursday). And of course, all the requisite cleaning and kid-wrangling (mine and others’) I get to do. Tomorrow, in the cooking sphere: garlic mashed potatoes, chocolate ganache, winter fruit salad with lemon poppyseed dressing.

And yes, since you asked, I’m doing about five thousand percent more dishes now that we’re running our “restaurant”.

Sometimes I think Ralph and I overwork and I wonder if we’ll ever be able to get out of that habit. It makes me sad at times to hold the man who was the boy I knew who didn’t have shit to worry about. But at the end of the day, we’re together and I have time to reflect how much this means to me. Holding his hand, I study it and I tell him I like being with you. He says, “It’s pretty great being with you too, you know.”

And so it goes.

Blue Dragon Egg Jacket (Plus, Lady Ralph)

by sewing journal

I told myself I’d finish Phoenix’s new coat for my birthday. And I did.

Blue Dragon Egg Jacket

Sly

(& yes, that’s right, I lined up the front perfectly). What’s cool is I designed the whole thing. HECK YES. All of it. Including the pleated hood and the ears:

Happy As A Clam

Hood, Pleats

And the double-layer sturdy pirately cuffs, and the ruched pockets, and the two-fabric sleeves with ruched sleeve heads:

Ruching In The Sleeve Head

And yeah, it was my idea to line with sateen. This TOTALLY works well and (I predict) will stand up to children’s more rugged uses of clothing.

Lining, Facing

I came up with a lining/underlining method that was quite easy to pull off. In fact I made much of the coat yesterday while we had a family over and their kids chatted with us and used computers and ate homemade veggie fried rice and I traded theories with the seventeen year old, exactly seventeen years younger than I, about the film Inception.

Back to the coat. Phoenix was so appreciative as I sewed it. When she awoke today she asked me to snuggle and we talked a bit. I then told her I’d finished the garment just now. She whispered, “Thank you,” and hugged me. She wore it to the drag show and we immediately began to get praises for it. At one point after I used the bathroom and returned she said she was getting stares and she’d fielded more compliments. I asked, “Do you like that?” (meaning the stares) and she nodded Yes. “I want to be a movie star someday,” she told me. I responded, “Well, you should let me sew for you, because people will look at you if I make you unique clothes.” Let me tell you, she was a treat at that show and very proud of her father’s performance (I think a video may emerge from this so, stay tuned).

Pointing Out Cat Hijinx
(Pointing out cat hijinx. No, I don’t want to look.)

There are more pictures of the coat, including construction details, at the Flickr tagset.

The drag show was fun, and so was the dance afterwards. My lovely husband post-act (much of his make up had worn off):

Post-Routine

Signing memorabilia for some fans:

Lady Of The Evening

For now, I’m tucking into the following: a homemade sandwich with fresh mozzerella, homemade Italian dressing, olives, and a lovely birthday wine from Jasmine. Hot, hot, hot bath to follow and a b-movie. Tomorrow a birthday dinner with friends and family, and (I think) Wednesday a spa date up in Tacoma.

w00t!

They say whiskey’ll kill you, but I don’t think it will / I’m riding with you to the top of the hill

by dailies

Today was productive but even more importantly it was beautiful. For breakfast I made my kids a quiche, sliced apple, and pan-seared franks alongside green tea (at Nels’ request). I got a little late started but when the kids sat down to eat they were joyful and hungry.

November 6th, 2010

Mid-day the children were distracted by the lovely large trees across the street and the piles and piles of leaves on the sidewalk. Phoenix and her girlfriend Sasha went to my mother’s to borrow a rake and they raked and jumped and re-raked over and over again; about a half-dozen kids were involved in all.

In the evening after Ralph came home we went to the Fall Gala at the John Spellman Library at Grays Harbor College. It was all kind of posh and catered with a open wine bar and music and a few dozen grownups (and only two other children and one babe-in-arms). We went with my mother. It was very nice. There was one piece I rather enjoyed. It was $900. I continued to enjoy it for a while longer, then moved on for a cup of coffee.

Two Talkers & A Listener

Observing

(Phoenix and I retire to powder our noses:)

Restroom

Afterwards we took my mom out to Amore and I got all wacky and ordered the beef loin special (she got the cioppino special and was equally pleased). The food was amazing and the service was, as always, friendly.

Beef Loin, Sauteed Arugula, Brandy-Peppercorn Sauce

We are too broke to be going out to eat so Ralph just had water. Sorry, dude.

Today I also finished sewing up a lovely jacket (because, you know, my kids need MORE jackets? WTF?) and tomorrow it’s time to pack up a few gifts to go out in the mail.

a stutter step that you hear when you’re falling down

by dailies

The onset of the colder weather is a very odd and precious time for us because, like I imagine in days of Yore, it usually involves a period of compromised resources and more meager habits, an odd preciousness of more carefully-selected enterprises and purchases and a more dear experience of daily life.

Case in point: car troubles could be a source of anxiety if I let them. We already only have one car working and it’s not working well. The worst problem (of a handful), the most serious that I can tell, is a leaking of at least two seals which lends itself to an extremely wet interior now that the rain has set in (we’re talking squishy sounds when you step in, they’d be satisfying if they didn’t herald a fall-apart we can’t afford) which means children who have to hold groceries and my purse and their books on their lap (for fear of water damage), and even rusty bits beginning to fall off the car (frowny-face). We do not have a Plan at this point, or rather we could have lots of Plans if we had a bit more funds. Fine, whatever. We will survive. In fact I look forward to whatever future we have – as far as a car goes – as the current one is not sustainable.

Today I worked extra-hard, despite a lack of sleep and that nagging irritation I was seriously behind on sewing work (which I am), to put the house in order and love up the kids and make a lovely, nourishing dinner for my husband when he arrived home from his late-night class. I haven’t really mentioned this much but Ralph Hogaboom is being rode hard and put away wet at work since the very busy summer, without abatement so far. Ralph is a stellar man and as you might expect a heroic Systems Analyst (or twatever they’re calling them these days). His job is kind of both of ours in the sense I can listen and advise and think about his position and be entirely impressed with what he delivers. It’s not that I couldn’t respect (or sleep with) a man who did only his lukewarm-best in the nine daily hours he’s ransomed to Strangers… it’s just, knowing about his work reminds me of why I like him so much. Enough to breed with him, as it turns out.

In addition (today) I kept getting distracted by our children, so funny and alive and particular. Nels bobs around playing his various games and requires my participation at times; he delivers kisses and hugs and tells me how Pretty I look today. I take my daughter, after soccer (practice goes an extra half-hour because they are enjoying themselves) and we get some milkshakes. Her body is wiry and cold and she comes to the grocery store with me and pushes the cart and is the Best Company Ever. My last $50 of the week, gone, parts of it spent to make her suggested dinner (spinach and bacon quiche, served alongside a multicolored salad and some rich red chianti for Ralph and I). After dinner, at home, a hot bath for both of us.

Of note: today I also wrote a small magnum opus: “part 2 (.Tenderness.)” at Underbellie (a follow-up for “Hi, my name is Kelly. I’m a recovering Good Parent (Part 1)“, penned about three weeks ago). Response has been wonderful including a specific and incredible Thank You email that reminds me why I write.

Sometimes I write a rather polished post and other times, like tonight, I write until I’m about to collapse into a hot bath and then bed. What are you gonna do.

Where do we go from here? Is it down to the lake I fear?

by dailies

Last night Ralph and I were invited out to the pub where, unbeknownst to me, it was Trivia Night. Do not get me started in a trivia contest. I wouldn’t say I’m competitive because I can’t be assed to care if we lose – but I am rather good and I get hyper as hell (seven years of Nerd Bowl, most of them as Team Captain). Which is incidentally how I was during our wedding day too – hyper that is, I have it on film. So last night was a version of Name That Tune and I nailed about 90% single-handedly, “Love Plus One” by Haircut 100 and Gary Numan’s “Cars” and a handful of relatively obscure Bruce Springsteen songs and some old live Stones and Stephen Stills and Roy Orbison for good measure. And I had to do a little dance every time I got a song right (don’t worry, I varied the dance, for the legions of fans). I was a complete dud for the handful of new country songs that were played – fortunately a few other ladies on the team knew those by heart. We placed 3rd, 1st, 1st, then 3rd and won a shitload of candy which of course I had no interest in.

Today was kind of a little gift, a reminder of just how amazing people are who deal regularly with sleep deprivation and function at the same time. I can’t remember the last day I didn’t have a solid six to eight hours under my belt; today I managed on about three and it hurt. My son and daughter spent the day hugging me and asking how I was doing. We had a friends’ kid over in the afternoon (and a sidewalk-chalk note from another girl who stopped by while we were out); in fact our little informal ritual of having from one to four extra kiddos during the day/evening/night is really a wonderful one for me. Today we took a late Thai lunch and I ordered for the kids and they were happy with my choice. They were such delightful mealtime companions; I don’t know if I’ve had better. Sun-dazzled and beat I drove home and had to ask them a few times to repeat themselves. My brain was a bit sluggish.

Ralph taught class tonight so I was on my own with the kiddos until about 9:30 PM. Tired as I was, it was a delight to sit in the car knitting and watching my daughter play quite energetically on the soccer field while my son wooed several other children on the playground. I waited for as long as the kids wanted to play. They were the last off the playground and we came home for a late dinner and a night in. Too tired even to knit, or maybe even drink.

of flannel and warm fuzzies

by dailies

Breakfast!
August 4th, 2010
(I have three whole followers on my little food-update Twitterstream – and one of them is my own husband! Make no mistake at just how much of a nerd I am who does a bunch of stuff hardly anyone else cares about!)

Today one of my ladyfriends L. came to visit. She’d been a student of mine at GHC winter before last. I really like her. She’s sweet and funny and since she likes sewing and fabric well, we have plenty to talk about. I was a scattered hostess, trying to cook up the daily fare and talk sewing and try to keep my wits about me under duress because the neighbor kids were in and out and they were a little rambunctious. Within their first five minutes in my home they’d broken my back screendoor and put their hands in the goldfish bowl and smeared the results (combined with the extra stuff on their hands, a few of them are routinely very dirty) on my front door. While L. was here I made a chicken pot pie for the kids tomorrow and a devil’s food cake with fresh strawberries and cream for the lot today, which incidentally when I served the kiddos I only got back three out of seven forks; the rest are outside God-knows-where.

I enjoyed L.’s visit very much as she’s a person I genuinely enjoy. She brought me fabric gifts and I cut off a length of a lovely deep-purple satin for a project for my daughter.  Before she left I asked her what she might need. Her eye fell on three yards of a lovely Alexander Henry flannel I had on my shelf (dear reader, I image-searched to find you the pattern and now I am weeping and gnashing my teeth with fabric-lust! And I didn’t find the fabric anyway). It was a wonderful bit of yardage and perfect for the pajamas project she was contemplating. I rarely have more than a yard of any particular fabric anyway, as I am rather quick to sew up what I buy. Seeing this L. asked if I was sure I wanted to gift it. But I felt like absolutely; I’d had the yardage for about four years now and had stashed it away as one of those “precious” items but had not cut into it. It felt wonderfully freeing to gift it, part of this was happiness at giving a present that was well-received and part was happiness at letting go of my hoarding impulse.

In other news I am buried under email despite my best efforts. Some email provides a respite, something lovely to read. Some is designed specifically to get my goat. For instance, my husband and my brother Billy like to call me Bird and make fun of my beak and dirty feathers, delivering various pathetic attempts at wit and commentary now and then or emailing me pictures of fat and/or clumsy birds. They especially like to tease me if I’m sleepy or have had something alcoholic to drink.

So Billy writes, “Hey, I found a clip of you online.” and sends me this:

And finally. There’s something insulting about how much I run around trying to get shit done with THIS under my nose at every turn:
KITTEN DECADENCE

You probably aren’t even noticing Laurence’s back leg extended at maximum pleasure-stretch while he sleeps!! WHO LIVES LIKE THIS?! The only thing they like more than sleeping on my down comforter is sleeping on a pile of warm laundry on the down comforter. They get up to this about twenty hours a day. The rest of their time is spent eating food and liberally pooping in the litter box. Then once we’re in bed they form a rift in the Space-Time Continuum to make MORE time to fight viciously, usually in my hair, until my just-fallen-asleep ass has to re-stumble out of bed and throw them in the bathroom to sleep. And I am not even joking, they immediately stop horsing around and sleep. All night.

It’s a good life. (For them.)