tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10732474339820149322024-03-13T23:09:46.010-04:00Sweetfern Handmade ~ Creative homesteadingI have this creativity thing. Sort of like an organ. It sews. It cooks. It paints, dances, writes, gardens, draws and embroiders. From DIY house projects and the ideas conceived in the glow of my studio lamp, to tasty original recipes, garden plans, and poems, this is space for my creativity to stretch its legs.Kristina Strainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16811131349414075473noreply@blogger.comBlogger912125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073247433982014932.post-87811984010710486452015-06-29T16:47:00.000-04:002015-06-29T16:47:19.928-04:00June.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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First, the facts:</div>
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1. The night before our big party, a freak storm snapped one of our backyard hickories like a damn toothpick.</div>
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2. The party was awesome anyway, though I am grieving that tree like a family pet. You don't realize how much real estate a big tree like that takes up in your heart... until it's gone.</div>
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3. Highlights of the party included playing on the downed tree, making tree jokes ("look what crashed your party!" "I guess it just decided to <i>drop in...</i>") and the strongest campfire jam session yet. There was Wagon Wheel and Fools Rush In and Dock of the Bay and Free Falling. </div>
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4. The garden is fine. The garden is great. The peas are coming in and I'm starting to feel drown-y in vegetables. One of the summer constants.</div>
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5. This past weekend, we went to MassMOCA for the Solid Sound festival. I bought P tickets to it for his birthday. The whole festival, from the music to the art exhibits to the food, is curated by the band Wilco, and Patrick is a HUGE Wilco fan. I am a huge MassMOCA fan. We went there last summer for a Jason Isbell concert, and exploring the museum was one of the best parts of the day. You'll see what I mean in photos, I think.</div>
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Party campfire.</center>
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Richard Thompson at Solid Sound.</center>
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Festival selfie. Damn him.</center>
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Two examples of MassMOCA's completely fearless approach to art. Barbara Bush in flames, and this very extremely disturbing diptych from Francesco Clemente's <i>Encampment. </i>Whoa. I don't like safe art, at all, and I don't especially like pretty art, either. I like to be challenged, and nearly everything at MassMOCA seems to challenge me in the best possible ways. </center>
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I like that. I like the dark and the erotic and the ridiculous and the creepy.</center>
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Saturday night, there was Wilco in the rain, and it was good. Walking back to our campsite (about 10-15 minute walk) it picked up. It started to blow quite intensely. Our tent stayed perfectly, miraculously dry, but others did not fare well at all. This was the pile of ruined ez-ups, the following morning. Oh my.</center>
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We packed up and relaxed at the car for awhile. I believe we opened beers at 10:30 am, sitting at the car in the misting rain listening to the Buddy & Jim show on Outlaw County. They were playing nothing but old country music. PBR, old country music, and Sunday morning were just meant to be together.</div>
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Back to the festival we went. It was subdued, and still gray, but awesome. If you're anywhere convenient to western Massachusetts, do yourself a favor and go for the day. Everything about it is too cool to be believed.</div>
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Eventually, we headed homeward. It was a wonderful experience. I think I'm pretty much done buying Patrick "things"-- he just doesn't want them, or need them. Doing something like this, where we get to have an awesome, interesting, crazy, occasionally wet experience together... it's definitely a bigger return on the investment of dollars. And... I get to buy myself a ticket and it's a present to me, as well. I like that. </center>
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Kristina Strainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16811131349414075473noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073247433982014932.post-35947819143211344602015-06-09T09:23:00.000-04:002015-06-09T09:23:13.547-04:00Front garden<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I took the front garden photos last week, intending to share them in a timely fashion. It's look absolutely to-die-for out there, for the first time ever, and that feels so good. Yes, I am a grower of food, but also, I love my flowers. I especially love shade gardening, that holy trinity of ferns, hostas, and bleeding hearts with a few heuchera thrown in for good measure. I've spent four summers working on that front garden, which was almost completely weeds when we moved here (see below) and now things are taking shape.</center>
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When we were embroiled in that first summer here, that first summer of being oh-my-god overwhelmed with what we'd taken on, I would sit and dream of this day. The day when I can return from a weekend away, in June, and not have dragons to slay. The day when there's still plenty of doing, but plenty of sitting back and enjoying the results of all the hard work, as well. The day when the place, the whole place, feels <i>rejuvenated.</i> That day is mostly come, with the few exceptions of one entire side of the house that's still covered in aluminum, the back stairwell/entryway for which I'm saving my pennies, and the total eyesore garage, for which we're still drafting a plan. Most days, it's easy enough to ignore the side of the house, the stairwell, and the garage. Especially when the patches of fern, hosta, and bleeding heart are looking so fine.</center>
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Kristina Strainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16811131349414075473noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073247433982014932.post-17083536927538372892015-05-29T09:33:00.004-04:002015-05-29T09:33:51.867-04:00Looking toward June<br />
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Things are looking SO good. I'm about at the point where I've dealt with it all-- that first post-winter clean-out is so important. It's amazing how far some of these spots have come, even just since last year. For instance, this bed by our garage. Those variegated dogwoods light up like incandescent bulbs in the late-afternoon sunshine.</center>
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This was last year...</center>
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And the circle garden is really filling in, too, and looking just great. This was 2013.</center>
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It has been incredibly unbelievably DRY, that I will say. Things are mulched, but still. We need rain. I lost my first round of tomatoes to a very cold night last week, but the second round are now in, and doing fine. I have peppers and even <i>okra</i> this year-- a new one for me-- and will get to planting beans and squashes and cukes this weekend. Meanwhile, the flowers are looking just positively to die for. The outdoors, at least, is ready for our Open House, which this year will be June 13th. It's one of my favorite days of the summer, every year, and I can hardly wait.</center>
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Kristina Strainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16811131349414075473noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073247433982014932.post-74927490263638164102015-05-20T13:02:00.002-04:002015-05-20T13:02:55.620-04:00Stunner<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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God, May, you are such a stunner. </center>
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Kristina Strainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16811131349414075473noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073247433982014932.post-41313432036078754852015-05-12T11:35:00.001-04:002015-05-12T11:35:12.531-04:00Happy spring!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Oh, it's been a good spring so far. A busy spring. The mother's day rush nearly capsized my little Etsy shop, but in the process I had two $1000+ weeks. My official comment on that is: <i>da-yum.</i> </center>
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I am working at the Earlville Opera House twice a week. It isn't easy, but it feels good.</center>
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In between the Etsy and the Opera House, I am squeezing in garden time. The peas are up. The broccoli is in. Sunday I did battle with weedblock fabric, my raspberry patch, and a truck full of mulch, and I have the bruises to prove it.</center>
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Mostly, I'm feeling like the time to post here three time a week just doesn't exist anymore-- I'm spending a lot more time earning a living, which is really what I need to be doing with my time. But the other day, I thought about the possibility that I'd get to the end of the growing season without anything to show (on the blog) for it, no photos of the garden, and that thought made me <i>really</i> sad. So. Here I am, briefly. I don't know how often I'll be checking in, but as I've said, there is Facebook, and there is Instagram, too, now. Actually, I am love-love-<i>loving</i> Instagram. </center>
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Patrick and Pete and Del and Olive and the chickens are good. Del had ACL surgery last week, and is wearing the Cone of Shame but getting around just fine. This month we're celebrating five years since we "met" Gilbertsville and put in an offer on this place, and two years since we got Del. It's really a fantastic month to be living.</center>
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Hope life is treating you well, too, wherever you be.</center>
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Kristina Strainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16811131349414075473noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073247433982014932.post-19949336283175471222015-02-24T14:51:00.002-05:002015-02-24T14:51:51.314-05:00Mmm, yup.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Well. Another month went by, didn't it? Sorry.</center>
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Things are changing, here. I'm not sure if they're permanent changes or not, but right now my winter looks different from just about every other winter of late. And it's not just the walls of snow everywhere. (This is the snowiest winter since I was 10, I think.) This winter, parts of our house have become factory and warehouse. Parts of my days-- pretty big parts, really-- have been given over to sourcing, manufacturing, keyword research, order fulfillment. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays are post office days. Usually I have between four and ten orders to ship. The Etsying business has been <i>thrumming</i>, and I am so grateful. </center>
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Of course, in wintertime I have the space to log long hours into Etsy. I have no idea what this all is going to look like when it's canning season, or even springtime. I have no idea if I am going to come back to regular posting when I have things that are post-worthy again. Sigh.</center>
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As much as I hope to be able to find the time again, I'm also feeling like the urge to share parts of myself online is being sated right now with Etsy things-- new product announcements and Twitter posts and Facebook posts-- and I'm wondering if perhaps the old blog has run its course. </center>
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That thought makes me sad. </center>
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Sigh. Well. If you've been a longtime reader and you're interested in keeping up with me and with our life, then I invite you to friend me on Facebook at Kristina Plath Strain. I think I know who all the longtime readers are, so that'll be a good way to keep in touch. Be aware that Etsy updates will be part of the package!</center>
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Next time I check in, it'll be spring! Let's hope, at least...</center>
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Kristina Strainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16811131349414075473noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073247433982014932.post-21561082261487253652015-01-22T11:21:00.001-05:002015-01-22T11:21:03.727-05:00HELLO!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Happy new year!</center>
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Oh my goodness, I truly did not intend to be gone for over three weeks, but there you go. That's January for you. </center>
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Sometimes you continue on exactly as you've been continuing, and sometimes you veer off into the woods. Sometimes you take up snipe hunting. Sometimes you build a cabin in a clearing and decide to stay.</center>
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I'm trying to decide which of those metaphors best describes my life right now, the snipe hunt or the cabin-building, but it's definitely one of 'em. I've been spending nearly every waking moment thinking about my Etsy shop, or making new stuff for my Etsy shop, or ordering new materials to make stuff for my Etsy shop. I am absolutely loving it. I'm also a little nervous, but I'm getting sales, so, I tell myself, nothing ventured, nothing gained. I have made bath bombs and massage bars and bath salts. I ordered a dozen new essential oils and extracts last week and CAN'T WAIT to play with them. Every time I order a new installment of (expensive) stuff, I think I'm off on a foolish snipe hunt. And every time I get an order, I decide the snipes must be tigers, and not snipes after all. Yes. Surely these are deadly tigers I am stalking through the undergrowth. Surely the tigers will be caught and I will realize, after they are caught, just how important it was that they be caught. </center>
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And then I stand at the window and watch it SNOW, and I pace, and I come up with new ideas and dive back into the undergrowth. Surely they are tigers and not snipes. Surely this will turn out to be The Thing that gets me back on track, that enables me to make a (fulfilling) living in Gilbertsville. </center>
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The on-track feeling is so good. So far, 2015 has felt that way nearly every single day, and I don't want to deviate from that feeling. I'm in Bronx this week, helping my aunt through Round 1 of chemo (she's doing great) and even here I'm feeling on track. Yes. This is how it's going to be. I am needed here. I am needed here, and in between being needed I am Etsying like a fiend. </center>
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I am looking for more writing work. I am going to interview for a part-time (OUTSIDE THE HOUSE) job doing arts promotion at a theater. I have not gone to a job interview for a very long time. Like, five years. Oh my god. I probably shouldn't let myself be nervous about that fact. Nope. I should not at all. </center>
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I am going to try to be better at blogging, moving forward. I don't want to talk to much about Etsy (because it's tedious to everyone but me) and there isn't really any crafting happening at the moment. But it is winter, and it is lovely (still). I am cooking great quantities of last garden's produce every night, and we are eating well and spending not much. Del and Pete and Olive are well. The chickens are well, and still laying. </center>
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That's the news from Gilbertsville. How are things where you are?</center>
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Kristina Strainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16811131349414075473noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073247433982014932.post-85661690091423620022014-12-29T10:59:00.004-05:002014-12-29T10:59:55.795-05:00Christmas, 2014<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Christmas, 2014: check! There was much carousing, there was the eating of Christmas cookies, there was caroling, giggling, presents, and way too much to drink. There was Del, tearing open his new (honking) pheasant toy (and efficiently giving it a tracheotomy) on Christmas eve. There was a bright, sunny, warm day the day after Christmas, and we all stood around blinking (and groaning) because we legitimately <i>had not had a sunny day since before Thanksgiving.</i> The next day, and the day after that, we hiked. </center>
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Nothing feels better than a good hike after indulgence. </center>
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And now, on with this business of seeing out the year. 2014. Better than 2013. Still tough, though, but there's... cough, pardon me... there's reason to believe maybe this year will be better than the last. I'm finally starting to figure it out, I think-- that I want to do more than just write, that even if I'm doing incredibly fascinating work, the will to sit at my desk 40 hours a week just <i>isn't there.</i> Even 20 feels like a stretch sometimes. But I do enjoy it, I do like flexing my brain muscles, and you can't beat the overhead. So off I am merrily going, in 2015, to build a champion hybrid life: to grow the Etsy shop, to find a better writing gig, to support Patrick's departure from his (soul-sucking) job that he's needed to leave for <i>years</i>, to figure out how we're going to stay solvent financially in the interim. It needs to happen this year. It has needed to happen for <i>years,</i> actually, and yet they have flown past and nothing has changed. But no longer. THIS IS THE YEAR. I'm sure of it. No kitchen to remodel (woo hoo!) no major life changes, no menacing car repairs (knock on wood). This is the year. Fingers crossed.</center>
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Kristina Strainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16811131349414075473noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073247433982014932.post-75302476412627487082014-12-20T15:10:00.000-05:002014-12-20T15:10:22.861-05:00Breathe, return to center<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This is how it's supposed to be. Saturday afternoon. Christmas cookies. Carol of the bells. </center>
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I spent all week in the Bronx, with my aunt. I always love being with her: she's a sunlamp radiating sweetness and warmth, even in dark times. Even when she's recovering from surgery and traveling headlong towards scary months of chemo. This is a recent development-- <i>sudden </i>might actually be a better word-- and in between reeling, I have moments of grace where I feel completely and satisfactorily sure how this will play out: it will suck, but she will have me with her. </center>
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My place is to provide whatever I can to get her through this, just the latest insult heaped upon the sweetest, gentlest person I know.</center>
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Yep. That's how it's gonna be. She's gonna lick it-- kung fu karate chop it is more like it-- and sweetly hand it its walking papers. That's her way. </center>
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Kristina Strainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16811131349414075473noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073247433982014932.post-25731391821164653172014-12-12T09:21:00.002-05:002014-12-12T09:21:16.743-05:00In progress<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Paper flower inspiration from here: <a href="http://www.designsponge.com/2014/11/diy-project-paper-ranunculus.html">http://www.designsponge.com/2014/11/diy-project-paper-ranunculus.html</a>. I am using wooden beads as the centers, and tissue paper, not crepe paper for the petals, and so far they are turning out just fine. Neat project. I always love trying something new this time of year.</center>
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Also in progress: snow globe bases, and a vintage suitcase re-vamp. I can't share what that's going to become, but I know it's going to be cool. And slowly, the pile of wrapped things is growing downstairs, and slowly, the gift baskets are filling out and looking ready to trot. I love this time of year. What kind of merry-making is happening 'round your parts?</center>
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Kristina Strainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16811131349414075473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073247433982014932.post-34274741491392928642014-12-10T10:27:00.002-05:002014-12-10T10:27:52.051-05:00Christmassing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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In a lot of ways, it's good to be back to normal. The thing I miss most when we're away is my own cooking-- or rather, I miss the sense of control and comfort that comes from creating my own nourishment. Sunday night I made a giant pot of lentil soup, which is usually my excess detox meal of choice. Garden leeks and carrots and a jar of summer tomatoes-- oh yes. The comforts of home.</center>
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And then, there is the Christmassing. I put the tree up before we left, but hadn't decorated it yet. So last night we did that, and drank a bottle of wine, while the opening chords of a two-day Nor'easter played out over the house. Patrick sat on the couch and changed all the batteries in the window candles while I installed the snow village on the mantel, and we put the <a href="http://sweetfernhandmade.blogspot.com/2013/12/into-season.html">antlers on Del</a> (poor Del) but Del was too zonked-out from soaking up the warmth from the fireplace to care much. Love that dog.</center>
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And now we are on Day 2 of the Nor'easter, and Patrick has had to go to work this morning anyway. Sigh. I am making bath fizzies for the Etsy shop, which has thrillingly had five sales in just its first three weeks. It feels like it has promise, and I can't even articulate how good that feels. BIG thank you to those of you who are readers here who have supported it so far! I am cheering. Thank you.</center>
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In other news, a change of Christmas venue has occurred. As in, it's not going to be at our house this year, which means I don't have to CLEAN, or even cook, and, after a moment of <i>aw shucks</i>, I was like I DON'T HAVE TO CLEAN! and that was terrific. So in lieu of cleaning, I am focusing on Etsy and gift-making, and that is just fine with me. </center>
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It's not a bad groove to be in, really. Especially with so many awesome memories to keep returning to as I go about the days.</center>
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Kristina Strainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16811131349414075473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073247433982014932.post-90576279429935402132014-12-08T09:38:00.000-05:002014-12-08T14:00:14.140-05:00Nashville, 2014<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Hold on tight, it's going to be a long one.</center>
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First, synopsis. Last year, we came to Nashville for five nights and four days, and it was absolutely magical. We left feeling like we'd gotten just the very tip of the (amazing) iceberg, and we wanted MORE. So, back we came, hoping that the magic wasn't a fluke, hoping that, though we'd gained some familiarity, the element of surprise would be as present as it was the first time. We knew it was a tall order, but still, we hoped.</center>
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And we were rewarded with a week (seven nights, six days) that was absolutely <i>full</i> of serendipity, surprise, and magic. Like, did this really just happen-type magic. </center>
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Our journey began at about 9am, the day after Thanksgiving, when we folded ourselves into the car and embarked on an eleven-hour drive down 81. It was not fun, but it was uneventful, and when all was said and done, we were able to check in, unpack, shower, and be downtown by 9pm. Plenty of time to rock.</center>
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Last year, when we came, it seems like we hardly left Robert's Western World all week. It's the ONLY good honkytonk downtown, the one where they still play real country music, and it's special. This time, we told ourselves, there's more to Nashville than Robert's Western World. We made up our minds to see more of the city. And we did. But we also spent a LOT of time at Robert's, because there is no other place like it. The back door leads right out into the alleyway behind the Ryman, and in another time all the greats would wander over after their show at the Opry. The faces are on the wall. The boots are on the shelves. The magic is in the air.</center>
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Saturday afternoon, we were back. This is Rachael Hester and the Tennessee Walkers, probably my favorite band that plays Robert's regularly. Lots of Patsy Cline.</center>
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Then we saw Chuck Mead playing at a record store called Grimey's. Anyone know who Chuck Mead is? If you like hillbilly music as much as I do, make it your business to know Chuck Mead. He basically set off the whole downtown Nashville revival back in the 90s, playing at Robert's with a band called BR5-49. And there he was, in a tiny space, doing his awesome hillbilly front man thing, and after I bought the new vinyl he was there to promote, I went up and he signed it. I told him it was nice to meet him, and apologized for being the drunk chick at his Oneonta show (back in the spring, when he came to play just 20 minutes away!) screaming for "Ramona." And he was courteous and funny.</center>
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Later that night, we went to the Bluebird to see four songwriters play in the round. Last year we had a terrible experience (mostly due to a song with a refrain of <i>hey y'all hey y'all</i>) but this year we decided to give it another shot and it was wonderful. Marshall Chapman, Will Kimbrough, Tommy Womack, and Matraca Berg (who wrote "Strawberry Wine"). So we got to see Matraca Berg tell basically her life's story in song, and she sang Strawberry Wine, and then <i>her husband</i> Jeff Hanna from Nitty Gritty Dirt Band got up and sang "Mr. Bojangles." </center>
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<i>Oooooookay. </i>No biggie. It's just Nashville. It gets better.</center>
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The next day, we were back at Robert's seeing Rachael Hester again. There is something to be said for exploring the city, but there is also something to be said for doing the comforting, sure thing. Watching her band, with Chris Scruggs on guitar and her dad on fiddle, drinking a $2.50 PBR at Robert's on a Sunday afternoon is about the best way to pass time I can contrive.</center>
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At a set break, Chuck Mead walked in. And then Rachael invited him to sit in, and he sang one of Hank's. Oh right, no biggie, we're in Nashville. I put my camera to use.</center>
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That was incredible. Then, we went to see the Time Jumpers, a ten-piece country swing outfit featuring three fiddles and one <b>Vince Gill</b> on lead guitar. That's right.</center>
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Ohhhhh <i>man.</i> But oh right, no biggie, we're just in Nashville. This is just the kind of thing that happens in Nashville.</center>
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From that point on, it was like, did we really just see Chuck Mead at Robert's? Did we really just see Vince Gill last night? Dream-like and crazy. But then it got even better. How? Well, we spent some more time at Robert's.</center>
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Of course. But then we had to go get ready. We had tickets to see chef Sean Brock talk about his new book with his buddy Jason Isbell. So: sit and watch a sweet Virginia boy and a sweet Alabama boy talk about what their grandmas cooked for Sunday supper? Oh, yes <i>please.</i></center>
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As luck would have it, we made it out to East Nashville with just enough time to... eat fast food before catching the event. Oh, the irony. So painful.</center>
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Topics of conversation included: cooking cornbread on a car door, Sean's quest to cook the perfect brisket, and Jason's wife's first biscuit attempt, which did not end well. ("So I picked it up and dropped it on the table, just to see, you know, how <i>loud</i> it would be. It turns out that was <i>not</i> a good idea. That was <i>not</i> something that I should've done.")</center>
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And then I got my new cookbook signed by Sean. And then I stood there hyperventilating for a minute, and then I met Jason Isbell and his wife Amanda Shires.</center>
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Just go ahead and add that to my list of Peak Life Experiences. They were both totally sweet and accommodating, and I managed to not say anything stupid. </center>
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And then we walked out and to the car and <i>my feet were not touching the ground...</i></center>
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We went to Robert's for the rest of the night. We sat in the balcony and met a really nice couple from Indiana, and I tried in vain to get a decent picture of the two of us...</center>
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Sigh. The never-ending quest.</center>
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Then it was Thursday morning: Our Last Day.</center>
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We went to Percy Priest Lake. We walked around in the mud. I picked up rocks. Patrick let me sing him lines from the Jason Isbell song with the chorus that goes:</center>
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<i>Girl hang your dress up to dry </i></center>
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<i>we ain't leaving this room</i></center>
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<i>Til Percy Priest breaks open wide </i></center>
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<i>and the river runs through</i></center>
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<i>and carries this house on the Stones</i></center>
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<i>like a piece of driftwood</i></center>
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<i>Cover me up</i></center>
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<i>and know you're enough</i></center>
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<i>to use me for good.</i></center>
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Finally got a good picture.</center>
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And then? Well, maybe you can guess.</center>
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Yup. And then we walked on the Shelby Street pedestrian bridge, for what's becoming our traditional Last Night in Nashville swansong experience. Someone was kind enough to ask if we wanted our picture taken, and Patrick couldn't even make funny faces or give the finger.</center>
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He was less well-behaved when I tried to take a selfie.</center>
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We got back to Robert's in time to see another set from a different band.</center>
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And for a picture out front. Best, sweetest place on earth. Friendliest place. Then we walked to the car. I'm not to going to say I didn't have tears streaming down my face, because I did. Mostly happy tears. Smile-because-it-happened tears. Smile because this incredible happy kind comfortable little bastion exists on Lower Broadway in Nashville, and we can go to it when we need it, and Lord willin' it will always be there to take us in. (That's right, I just said Lord willin'. But I just spent a week in the South, and I figure it's justified.)</center>
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We capped off the night in fine fashion by going to see a real bona fide rock show at the Mercy Lounge. We wanted to see the Mercy Lounge-- a pretty iconic little venue-- and we wanted to see the band, Centro-matic, because they're good. And then I heard rumors that Jason Isbell would be sitting in, and that <i>sealed the deal.</i> </center>
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It was so good to rock out all the we're-leaving-Nashville angst, and to hear all that glorious guitar work. I got to meet Amanda again-- she remembered me-- and for an encore Jason sang No Matter What by Badfinger, which was about as awesome and unexpected a cover as could be imagined. </center>
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I decided the song was Nashville singing to me:</center>
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<i>No matter where you go</i></center>
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<i>There will always be a place</i></center>
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<i>Can't you see it in my face, girl,</i></center>
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<i>Ooo girl, want you.</i></center>
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No matter where or what, there will always be this place. I think that's what it is, more than anything. In Nashville, the fourth wall comes down, and you can meet and greet people without a pretense of fame or separation or <i>other-</i>ness. That's what I love. It's a warm, friendly bubble where the barriers are erased and we can go just sort of <i>hang</i> with the most talented people out there-- the ones who make the music we cherish.</center>
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I am absolutely full of gratitude. I am going to try as hard as I can to hold on to that feeling.</center>
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Kristina Strainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16811131349414075473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073247433982014932.post-77386555094729950312014-11-26T11:39:00.001-05:002014-11-26T11:39:25.862-05:00Pre-vacation squealing, and gratitude<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The only thing keeping me from crazed pre-vacation squealing is the fact that it's supposed to do THIS all day and Patrick went to work this morning. I took that picture maybe twenty minutes ago and already it's unrecognizable. We're in for it. </center>
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Meanwhile, I have to finish sewing a bag for myself (because this vacation calls for a new bag!) and do some cleaning and list a few new things in the shop and write the last articles I will ever write... for two weeks... And then later on tonight there will be pimento cheese-making (because we make sandwiches for vacation lunches to save money, and what could be better than eating pimento cheese in Nashville?) and PACKING.</center>
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It's a weird hurry-up-and-wait sort of feeling, because we're not actually Nashville-bound until Friday, but all the crazy packing madness needs to happen now. In a way it's a good thing, because there will be more time to spend looking forward to the trip. But in a way it feels like a tease. </center>
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Regardless, we are thisclose. From booking the damn hotel in March to right here, right now. Oh, mercy. This is going to be one for the record books, even if all we do is sit on barstools and drink PBR and listen to honky tonk music. </center>
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I am so grateful we have made it, and that we are close. But I am also pushing myself to be grateful for those things that are challenging in our life, for our crazy demanding house and my garden and chickens that we <i>chose</i>, and it was a good choice, four years ago. I am grateful to be making a living, however narrowly, by working from home and being a writer. I am grateful for family, and for friends new and old. I am grateful for our marriage, for the thing that seems more and more like a well of sweet fresh water that never runs out even when everything around seems to be in drought. I feel like I learned more about marriage this year than in any other so far-- you learn more when things are tough. And I am thankful for the lessons. </center>
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Ok. Wishing you and yours all the warmest things for tomorrow. A really good turkey. Some excellent pie. And that cranberry sauce that's always your favorite thing, even though people look at you funny when you make that statement. (It's always my favorite thing.) Cheers! Travel safe and be thankful.</center>
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Kristina Strainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16811131349414075473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073247433982014932.post-26763334018422267032014-11-24T11:48:00.006-05:002014-11-24T11:48:54.277-05:00Meanwhile, the making<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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You didn't think I hadn't started yet, had you? Oh no. I've begun. Somehow, in the midst of Etsying and entertaining and spackling the laundry room ceiling and making a packing list for our trip, I've managed to sew two lap quilts, a handbag, and put together materials for felt ornaments to be sewn in-car. Last year I made little owls out of felt, with button eyes, and those were great fun. This year, I found a simple round felt ornament decorated with little embroidered-on feather-shaped scraps of fabric, and fell in love with that. Wanted to show you that, but wouldn't you know, I can't find the idea now. But I remember. I filled a little tea tin with feather-shapes, drew some circles on the sleeve of a shrunken sweater that I cut off, and loaded up my embroidery hoop and spool of ribbon. </center>
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Between sewing those and doing the hand-finished binding on the two quilts, I should be set for... 28 total hours in the car, yes? I hope so. What's the first thing to get crossed on your holiday list?</center>
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Kristina Strainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16811131349414075473noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073247433982014932.post-41544879732502112262014-11-21T12:53:00.000-05:002014-11-21T12:53:56.717-05:00Launch day, and one week til Nashville...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Hello! You might notice an Etsy shop applet on the right hand side. Please do not be alarmed. </center>
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Yesterday was launch day. Er, make that Launch Day. I made stuff, I packaged stuff, I did keyword research, I ordered packaging materials... I wrote item descriptions, cackling merrily... and then I bit the bullet and and launched. Skeery.</center>
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I spent all day on pins and needles, checking my pageviews, googling my shop, doing a miniature happy dance whenever I got a new favoriter. Around about 4pm, I got an ORDER (!!!) from a friend (still an order. still counts!) That felt really good. </center>
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Please check it out, if salty language and organic skin care are things that interest you. If not, no worries. I wish I could sell you all flavored salts and infused vinegars direct from Sweetfern Acres, but alas, NYS has this pesky law that makes it illegal for me to sell foodstuffs over the internet. </center>
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Anyway, moving on.</center>
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In other news, Nashville is happening in ONE WEEK. Oh my goodness. I am trying really really hard not to be insufferable, not to go on Facebook like <b>leaving in SEVEN DAYS!!!!!</b> (because it's horrible, I know, when you have friends going on vacation and you are staying home. I mean, even if you love your life, not going on vacation is tough. So I am mainly just squealing to Patrick. And, er, you guys. SEVEN DAYS!!!)</center>
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We had such a good time last time. Really, we just walked into Robert's Western World, the one authentic honky tonk, and stayed most of the week. It was excellent. This time we want to see more of the city. This time, we have six days, where last time we had only four. </center>
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We have reservations at Husk, we have tickets to see Jason Isbell and chef Sean Brock (from Husk) talk about Southern food at a bookstore on Wednesday night, we are going to get tickets to see a show at the Mercy Lounge and at the Bluebird... and none of this probably means anything to you, because Nashville is not <i>your</i> happy place. But nevertheless, I must get it out. I must crow, just a little. What a <i>long</i> year this has been, and how hard we have worked, and how much we have gotten done. And what an AWESOME freaking time we are going to have in our favoritest of cities.</center>
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Kristina Strainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16811131349414075473noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073247433982014932.post-67552874251399811162014-11-19T09:47:00.001-05:002014-11-19T09:47:13.080-05:00Tuesday night with friends<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We had our dinner. I suggested Thanksgiving for a theme, and someone brought a G-D turkey. There was green bean casserole and mashed potatoes and gravy and butternut squash soup and a whole chicken wrapped in bacon and baked in salt dough. And wine, and side-splitting laughter, and songs from Oklahoma, and time by the fire. It was the best.</center>
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Kristina Strainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16811131349414075473noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073247433982014932.post-5054576078503234182014-11-18T10:01:00.002-05:002014-11-18T10:01:42.954-05:00For the record, a clean house<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Yesterday, I was in Binghamton running errands. When Patrick and I got home, after cooking dinner in a flurry, we <i>cleaned.</i> We are having one of those wonderful Tuesday night gatherings tonight, so cleaning was important. And then, wouldn't you know, we woke up to a gorgeous incredibly cold snowy morning, and the light was streaming in onto those CLEAN floors, and I thought, <i>well, this calls for documentation!</i> </center>
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It's been awhile since I showed any big indoor shots, I guess. Such is the way of the warm season. Now it's cold, and it's snowed, and we have no choice but to pretty-up the inside as best we can and hunker down. The upstairs is still a complete wreck, but downstairs, the crown molding is done and the tools are put away, and Patrick's dad came last week and found an ingenious way to steady those wobbly kitchen shelves. Now they are rock-solid. As in, maybe you could do a chin-up on them. (Not trying that.) He used pieces of thin metal rod which screw into the ceiling, which you can <i>just</i> see in the top photo. They work perfectly with the industrial thing I've got going, and installation was fairly simple, and Tom got to play with his tap and die set, so I'd say that's win-win-win. I love having a tinkerer for a father-in law. His middle name oughta be Edison, tellin' ya.</center>
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So, tonight, potluck with friends (that will invariably result in staying up too late for a school night and drinking too much wine); Saturday night, "feastival" with family. the new pre-Thanksgiving gathering I've decided should be an annual tradition. Both sets of parents, my aunt, and all the autumn feasty foods I so love to cook. I did it <a href="http://sweetfernhandmade.blogspot.com/2013/11/feasting.html">last year</a>, with stuffed mushrooms and pear pie, and I'm doing it again with chicken thighs, biscuit-topped stew, and pumpkin pie. </center>
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I do love this time. I'm getting less of it this year, because we'll be gone the week after Thanksgiving (Naaaashville!) so I'm soaking it up while it's here.</center>
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Kristina Strainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16811131349414075473noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073247433982014932.post-80799183432376401172014-11-14T09:16:00.001-05:002014-11-14T09:16:58.971-05:00Designs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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So, I think I've figured it out. The cottage industry is going to be two-pronged. A sweet and homey local line of garden-inspired infused salts, vinegars, and the like. And an online, trucker-mouthed line of beauty products. I'm calling it Badgerface Beauty Supply, and I've spent a <i>lot </i>of time this past week designing labels, writing blurbs, arm wrestling with my printer to get it to print things...</center>
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Wednesday, I worked five hours mixing salts, filling jars, making some lotion bars, pouring vinegars (mostly for the Sweetfern local line, which a friend wants for her gallery's holiday gift shop in a few weeks). I did hand-stamped and hand-printed labels for those, something simple but still nice, I think. It was a good day. </center>
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Yesterday was better, because after <i>finally</i> getting my printer to cooperate, I was able to package the first of the Badgerface things-- those lotion bars above. Squee! I'm so happy with how they look! I need to get a bunch more labels printed (professionally, because I got the wrong size and my printer's margins are too wide... long story) and then I can label up the jars of sugar scrub and milk bath I've made, photograph those bad boys, and then <i>LAUNCH!</i> I am so excited for that.</center>
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Kristina Strainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16811131349414075473noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073247433982014932.post-49189861812941893822014-11-13T08:43:00.001-05:002014-11-13T08:43:35.535-05:00When I have too many eggs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The chickens haven't slowed down their laying yet, which has me cheering. I've gotten into a happy groove of dealing with our eggs over the years, mostly by eating one for breakfast every single morning and working at least one egg dinner (like this <a href="http://sweetfernhandmade.blogspot.com/2012/09/roasted-vegetable-tart-with-whole-wheat.html">tart</a>, or this <a href="http://sweetfernhandmade.blogspot.com/2010/08/what-to-do-with-zucchini.html">zucchini-crusted pizza</a>, or rice and beans with a fried egg) into our weeks. I have two ceramic egg-holders in the fridge-- the front one is for fresh eggs, and in the back one, I "age" eggs in order to use them for hard-boiled applications. Because nothing, <i>nothing</i> is harder to peel than a fresh-from-the-chicken egg. They need a week at least, maybe two. Then it's egg salad wraps, deviled eggs, kale and potatoes with chopped hard-boiled egg (tonight!). But my favorite way to deal with extra eggs is to make pasta.</center>
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I've had a pasta-maker attachment for my stand mixer for... probably five years, and I think I only used it three times in its first three years. But lately it has been making infrequent but regular appearances on the counter, for those times when I need to kill a handful of eggs and I have the time to roll the pasta. Really it doesn't take much time. With a savvy eye for when the dough is not too dry and not too wet, kneading it, letting it rest, and rolling it out before slicing it and running it through the rollers takes not much time at all. And lasagna is an absolute snap.</center>
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Our eggs make meals where the only purchased ingredients are olive oil and salt. I like that a lot.</center>
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Kristina Strainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16811131349414075473noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073247433982014932.post-71405728988578381102014-11-11T08:55:00.001-05:002014-11-11T08:55:09.921-05:00First freeze<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We got our first killing freeze last night. My row of arugula very muchly resembles a pile of green rags. Sigh. I've been in denial about winter, partly because we're going south for that week after Thanksgiving. It will <i>definitely</i> be winter when we get back, but until then I can pretend it's still fall, right?</center>
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Today it is going to be 60. This will be the last time it is 60 until April at least. I am going to rake one last time, and put the heater in the chicken coop, and work on my Etsy shop.</center>
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Thanks to those who chimed in with feedback on Monday's post. I really appreciate it. I spent all yesterday designing labels, and I have to say, I feel this momentum behind the vulgar approach. It makes me cackle. Those who told me I was beautiful and talented and don't need to swear, well-- thank you so much, first of all, but most of the time I feel like the farthest thing from beautiful and talented, as I haul in muddy buckets of parsnips and struggle to patch together enough income as a writer to buy Christmas presents. This life <i>is</i> beautiful, but it's also really incredibly hard, and part of me just needs an outlet. Can you all who think this is a lousy, ugly idea put your reservations aside and still visit this space? I hope so. And I do thank you for being kind, and polite, in your comments.</center>
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And rest assured, this blog isn't going to be changing. The beauty needs an outlet, too, and this is where it goes.</center>
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Kristina Strainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16811131349414075473noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073247433982014932.post-38022632945263172502014-11-10T09:24:00.000-05:002014-11-10T09:24:14.500-05:00Course correction<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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(Going through my head while taking that second shot? <i>Definitely time for a vacation.</i>)</center>
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I had a pacing spell Friday afternoon. I had charged myself with filling in the "about the seller" parts of my Etsy shop, so I started doing that, in earnest. And, as I've done many times already, I got nervous. I started looking around at all the other pretty Etsy stores, at their awesome labels, their unique business plans, their inventory of wildcrafted jams and naturally infused sea salts, and I felt two things. One, I felt I couldn't compete. Two, I felt a little nauseated by the sheer level of cutesy-perfect loveliness on display. Did I really want to do <i>that?</i> Did I even want to try with Etsy, in its over-saturated state of cutesy-perfect loveliness? <i>Is this what I want to be about?</i></center>
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I started pacing. It started snowing. I thought, offhandedly, about having a line of bath and beauty products that's <i>anti </i>cutesy-perfect loveliness. I thought about how much I miss Regretsy. I thought about <a href="http://www.thugkitchen.com/strawberry_grapefruit_margarita">Thug Kitchen</a>, the recipe blog succeeding through a potent mix of natural eating, irreverence, and profanity. I thought pretty hard about profanity. I thought about the<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/190604620/pattern-mature-behold-the-field-in-which"> needlepoint samplers emblazoned with the F-word</a> that make me shoot tea out my nose. I thought, y'know, this business thing is going to be a lot of work. If it's going to work, for me, it needs to be fun. </center>
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I thought, fleetingly, about my poor parents, who won't be able to tell any of their friends if their awesome daughter starts kicking ass with profane beauty products. I felt sad for a minute. Then it passed.</center>
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I did a little googling. I didn't find anyone out there selling natural bath and beauty products with insouciant irreverence and cursing. Aha, I thought. Empty niche. Vacant market share. Untapped potential. Maybe the women who buy profane needlepoint samplers will be interested in minty-ass foot scrub? Or something like that? I grew increasingly more delighted.</center>
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I chucked the idea of this blog as reflector for the Etsy shop. In order for that to work, I'd need <i>way</i> more traffic, and things would need to change. It'd need to be a <i>job</i>, and I don't want it to be a job. I started this because I thought it was going to take off, and I tried to get it to take off for awhile, but over the years I've realized that I love having it as an accessible record of our years, and that it makes me happy, and makes a lot of my friends and family happy, and that's enough.</center>
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I will link to the shop, I will talk about shop developments. But this isn't going to turn into a business blog.</center>
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Does anyone love this idea? Hate this idea? I'm feeling just a little bit twitterpated, but that could be the caffeine talking. Got a whole morning to burn, and labels to design. Oooh yeah. Gonna get to swear a whole lot. It's going to be so much fun.</center>
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Kristina Strainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16811131349414075473noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073247433982014932.post-40845179980252013032014-11-07T11:00:00.001-05:002014-11-07T11:00:50.191-05:00Crowning achievement <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It got cold, and then it got rainy. Yesterday, I furled myself up and worked on a quilt (!), and listened to three episodes of <i>Death, Sex, and Money</i> (I love it) and that felt really good. Today, I was able to tick off the last and easiest step of the crown molding project: the caulking and painting. That felt really good, too. The room looks polished. The joints we thought would be ugly and monstrous are barely noticeable (thanks, DAP painter's caulk!). The room is finished. The doggone kitchen is finished. Big exhale.</center>
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Nashville is happening in three weeks. I have been listening to Lightning 100, the indie Nashville station, while doing things such as caulking crown molding, and that has been thoroughly enjoyable. I've been finding out about shows in town and places we need to check out, and just generally <i>dreaming </i>while up on a ladder doing important stuff. Those things that let us dream while still doing important stuff are so lovely.</center>
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Meanwhile, I have a cold that hasn't managed to progress beyond easily-soothed-with-hot-tea-sore-throat for three days. I don't know what that means. Do I gird myself for the stuffy phase, or do I keep drinking hot tea?</center>
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Meanwhile, Patrick's band is opening for Donna the Buffalo this weekend. Meanwhile, I am spending spare hours mixing bath salts and the like. It is a good time.</center>
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Kristina Strainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16811131349414075473noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073247433982014932.post-54693880530995203272014-11-06T10:33:00.002-05:002014-11-06T10:33:32.803-05:00One more<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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As long as these afternoons continue to be sunny, I'm going to continue to capture them. Every time I think it's the last one, there's one more.</center>
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Kristina Strainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16811131349414075473noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073247433982014932.post-6982196877625381962014-11-05T14:06:00.002-05:002014-11-05T14:06:44.452-05:00Late-autumn light, and trivia heroes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The finest thing about our new kitchen is... well, if I'm being honest, there's a new answer to that statement every day. But yesterday, the finest thing about our new kitchen was this sight right here. The way the late-November sun fills the back window and splashes against the subway tile and <i>right on into </i>the dining room. I don't even care that it illuminates the flour-filmed counters. I don't even care that this time of day lasts approximately twelve minutes, and then BOOM, it's dark, at 4:26 at night.</center>
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Last night, Patrick and I partook in Tuesday night team trivia in Norwich, as we often do. We have been trivia people for a long time. In Binghamton, we played so religiously that for <i>years </i>the only week we had missed was <i>our honeymoon.</i> We never won. It became almost part of our identity. Usually we were a team of two, the Wombats, and usually we managed to squeeze into the top tier of teams, even though everyone else around us was twice our size or more. The fate that spins the thread of life? Boom, Arachnae. A play on words that means to skip picking up garbage? Refuse refuse. The thing Keith Godchaux, Brent Mydland, and Vince Welnick have in common? All keyboardists for the Dead (thanks Patrick!). We knew it all, some weeks, only to be felled by a few measly sports questions.</center>
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Now we play in Norwich at the Blarney Stone Pub. We are not as religious as we once were, but still, these last few weeks we've made a good showing. We came in second by three points a few weeks ago. Last week we lost by a landslide, thanks to our shaky Addams Family knowledge. But then, last night, in the midst of a packed-to-the-gills trivia night with lots of newcomers, some divine light shone down on the Wombats. </center>
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We played really well, but ended up trailing the leaders by 15 going into the final question. Who won TIME's Man of the Year three times? FDR, we guessed. A guy from another team sauntered over, after we'd handed everything in, and asked what we put down. They'd guessed Reagan. I figured that was probably it. I went to the bathroom.</center>
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The host always announces the winners from the bottom up, so to speak-- the teams who bet it all and lost go first. There was just one team ahead of us, and when I heard their name read mid-pack, I knew we'd won and immediately went running out to find Patrick. Imagine the <i>Chariots of Fire</i> theme playing right about here. The guy we'd talked to, and the rest of his team, was like, <i>It's you guys! You guys got it!</i> And the whole rest of the place was practically cheering for us, too.</center>
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I mean, seriously. It was like <i>Sandlot</i> meets <i>Revenge of the Nerds.</i></center>
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I guess that's the awesome thing about being a two-person team. When you finally <i>do</i> manage to eke out a victory, you get everyone's shock and surprise and goodwill. </center>
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Kristina Strainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16811131349414075473noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073247433982014932.post-74738242503464978922014-11-04T09:15:00.003-05:002014-11-04T09:15:44.346-05:00The best part of the day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This is the best part of the day. Those twenty minutes or so between the writing work wrapping up for the day and the dinner-making work beginning. Yesterday, it was sunny and warm, and I wandered around with my favorite guys (Del and Pete), noting, a little wistfully, how close the sun was to the horizon even at 3:30pm. Noting, a little wistfully, the last of the garden calendula filled with honeybees. Thinking already about next year. Watching with a head-shaking chuckle my neighbor putting up his Christmas lights. (His jack-o-lanterns are still up!)</center>
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A giant box of jars and bottles has taken up residence in our living room, and a giant box of coconut oil, milk power, beeswax, and shea butter is en route to join it. Four kinds of infused vinegar are brewing in the basement. Labels are on their way as well. Things are taking shape. It all feels pretty excellent.</center>
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