Cool and sunny, with a chance of apples

It was a good weekend.

There was sweet old cemetery-walking.

Bright apple-gazing.

Delicious dinner-eating. (Thanks Mom!)

And heated Pictionary-playing.

Where did the days take you this weekend?

A saga: silk slipcovers that nearly killed me

My first mistake, looking back, was buying silk.

Who hasn't been there: it's the nameless racks and aisles of a giant, corporate fabric store. Whatever surety you had about what you wanted to make has fizzled at the sight of bolts and bolts and bolts of luscious fabric.

You round a corner, somewhere between Interfacing Infinity and The World of Wool, and there you behold the Clearance Section. A dangerous place.

If you're like me, you uncover buried treasure: a bolt of copper-colored dupioni silk, its label a happy procession of sucessively lower prices. You gasp: $6 a yard!

In my defense, I did hesitate before folding it under my arm and marching to the cutting counter. Silk slipcovers, really? My practical side pointed out its faults: delicate, hard-to-work-with, and, curse of curses, dry clean only. Was I convinced? No. My inner cavalier bought three yards.

What followed was a ridiculous and trying series of events. I can laugh about it, now that they're done, but for awhile it was touch and go. It took me three whole days just to make a pattern for the project, even before I cut into the material. When I did cut, I cut wrong. I sewed together a tapered form that had no hope of ever fitting over the back of the chair.

I cursed and pulled out seams. I re-drew the pattern. I realized I was going to need more fabric.

I realized I was going to need more fabric...

No one ever wants to come to that realization. Especially when the fabric in question was clearance, and is probably gone, and if not gone, expensive.

This was the only ray of sunshine in the entire journey of this project: I found it, there amid the towering piles. I heard harps. I felt the presence of divine intervention. There were three yards left. I bought them all. And then a choir of angels picked me up and carried me to my car.

The rest of the project proceeded in ordinary fashion: more screw-ups, more sewing things on backwards and inside out. More cursing and pulling out seams.

With about 45 seconds' worth of stitching left to go, my sewing machine started sucking great wads of thread down into the bobbin case. The needle broke.

It was the end of a long day. I calmly turned off my machine and walked away. In the morning, everything was fine. I finished my seam, clipped my threads, and did a happy dance. Done, done, done!

They have met with Pete's approval. (Always important.)

And my favorite thing: they have bows in back. Yeee.

Now off to sew something ridiculously simple and let my craft ego recover from this battering.

Lessons from Liz

I get blog crushes. Does anybody else do this? Periodically I'll zero in on one of the many (many many) blogs I follow, and become a wee bit stalker-ish. My already undying bloggy admiration will morph into something a little more awed and insistent. I'll walk around for two weeks filling Patrick's poor head with "Oh and her paint colors, blah blah blah, and she does the cutest embroidery, yeah, that too. AND she made the most delicious looking pancakes last week!" And, because Patrick is a good husband, he will nod patiently, pretend at a sweet (though slightly patronizing) interest in paint, embroidery, and pancakes, and wait for the storm to pass.

Anyway, my blog-crush-of-the-moment is Mabel's House. Autumn is the season for nesting, and this being autumn, well, I am nesting. Each year brings a procession of little projects I am stirred to complete before settling down to winter. Inspired to paint by my new-found love (ha ha), I covered a very scratched (yet highly adorable) nightstand in a color called Corduroy.

(Corduroy? What the heck kind of name for a color is that? And why is it gold? Most of the corduroy I've seen in my life has been brown. Maybe whoever named the color saw that episode of Sex and the City with Steve's gold corduory suit. Does anyone know what I'm talking about?)

Anyway, this project is done, and I'm pleased. As luck would have it, I have a (also very scratched) dresser that would match perfectly with this... and I think I have enough paint to cover that as well. Maybe someday they'll make the perfect spare-bedroom furniture set. Which would be for when we actually have a spare bedroom big enough for more than just a bed and nightstand. Someday.

Kitchen update

Three weeks to go. Progress has been slow lately, mainly due to Halloween and its attendant festivities. New desk has a fresh coat of snowy white primer, and is in the process of donning a mantel of shimmery green. The nightstand has been relocated to the guest room. It is waiting for me to make it the star of its very own blog post. Soon, friend, soon.

Last night, I broke out the step ladder and the cleaning rag. At least this only happens once a year.

Early evenings, and mom's soup

You know what I love? The start of daylight savings time. Oh sure, reality will hit me when I drive home with my headlights on tonight, but for right now, the romance is sweet. Did anyone else go to bed at 9:30 last night? Our usual lay-in-bed-and-watch-a-movie time begins around 10:30, but last night we hoodwinked ourselves into bed an hour early. Because even though it said 9:30, it was really 10:30.

And waking up at 6 am only to face the delight of a bonus hour of sleep? Heaven.

Yesterday evening, to celebrate the changing light (and detox after a beer and junk-filled weekend) I cooked up a pot of my mom's lentil soup, and baked a loaf of seedy bread.

Watching my mom make lentil soup was my best and most serviceable kitchen lesson as a child. She never sat me down and instructed me in the process, but I saw her do it so many, many times, I didn't need a recipe when I moved into my own place.

As I settled in with my cutting board and a counter-full of vegetables, I reflected. It's a pretty big gift I've been given-- not just the soup, but the resourcefulness and pride in a tidy kitchen, a warm, loving house, and a meal made from scratch. As I stood stirring, I was back again in the low-ceilinged kitchen of my parent's house, bare feet on the linoleum floor with my back to the woodstove. I was sitting at the table, feeling warm and cared-for, oblivious to the lesson I was learning, the osmosis of all domestic arts I was taking in.

When the soup was done, I made a place at the table for myself and my husband, and we lit candles in the early dark. The soup was delicious. Thanks mom.

Mom's Lentil Soup

1 tbsp olive oil

2 medium onions, peeled and chopped

4 cloves garlic, minced

3 stalks celery, sliced

1 15-oz can stewed tomatoes

1 bay leaf

1 tsp dried oregano

1/2 tsp dried thyme

1 cup dried lentils, rinsed and picked-over

4 cups vegetable broth

2 large carrots, sliced into half-moons
A few grinds of black pepper

salt to taste-- start with 1/2 tsp and go from there

Optional-- a few tablespoons of marinade from a jar of marinated artichokes. Or you can substitute a dash of balsamic, red wine vinegar, or lemon juice.

Warm the olive oil in the bottom of a big soup pot. Toss in the onions, garlic, and celery, and saute until tender, about 10-12 minutes. Add the seasonings, tomatoes, lentils, and vegetable stock. Cover and bring to a gentle simmer. Cook 15 minutes, or until the lentils are almost tender. Add the carrots. Cook another ten minutes. Taste and adjust the seasonings, add the artichoke marinade if using, ladle into bowls, and serve.

Have you seen my sheep?

I'm not someone known for brilliant, exciting Halloween costumes. I tend to aim for something instantly recognizable (god forbid someone doesn't "get" my costume), which often lands me on the mundane side of the fence. Also, I don't do ghouls or goblins. I want something comfortable (maybe even flattering) and feminine. Last year I was a country singer. Two years ago I was a girl scout. This year I am Little Bo Peep.

If trends continue, I could see a long procession of fable-y characters beginning.

Another plus: costumes like this tend to be pretty easy to pull together. I had a frilly blouse and a frilly skirt, stockings, and shoes. I made myself a little bonnet, and picked up an old cane at an antique shop for $5 (because what's little bo peep without a shepherd's crook?) What are you or your kids' costumes this season?

This weekend finds me headed to Ithaca tonight for some pre-Halloween mayhem and gal time with one of my favorite people. Saturday I'll be working at the cafe--in costume-- and am eagerly anticipating the creatures and characters I will encounter while I'm there. It promises to be a busy one. What are your Halloween plans?

The new desk, or, getting over wood

It's waiting for me when I get home from work tonight. The new desk, freshly sanded, and also a quart of greenish grayish paint ready for brushing.

I'm trying to get over my love affair with wood. Wood is prissy and high-maintenance. Just when you've found a perfect little desk and hauled it homeward, you're hit with a massive undertaking: the sanding, the stripping, the re-finishing. That is, if you're a die-hard wood lover, like me. There is not one single piece of painted furniture anywhere in our house. Die hard. See?

Helping me in my withdrawal from wood are the following:
1) The fact that I was able to mix a color I love from paint I had on hand
2) Mabel's House
3) The ominous and ever-shortening distance between now and aforementioned impending holidays

Four weeks. It's time to break out the brushes, folks.