i is free!

Day-um. Today is my first day off from one of the hardest quarters I've had at work. I mean, I work from home. Doesn't that scream cakewalk? Well, it's not. It's not because what winds up happening is a collapse of the boundary between work and the rest of life. It all turns into work. And when you work online, you get and give the impression that you're just open all night. Sometimes you are.

Next quarter, which starts next week, none of that. I means it. It'll help that I finished a massive project that I'd procrastinated on. I put it to bed.

All this is to say Hello! I'm coming around again.

I figure it's best not to make my comeback with a 50-concert extravaganza (which might be the death of me), but, rather, with a couple of good shows. I think I can manage that. Since I'm mostly decorating my house on the cheap these days, I'll focus on sharing the process here.

When I say on the cheap, I mean on the cheap. St. Vincent de Paul, Goodwill, Craig's List, and the Salvation Army are my friends; Ikea, a dear acquaintance. This means I've gotten things that require some fixin' up, and I'm hoping to do a lot of it while on vacation these few days.

For now, check out my art, all but one of which cost 5 bucks each.

Um, does anyone notice a theme? Yeah. I like trees. I like trees a lot.

Another thing I like just fine is buying myself end-of-quarter celebratory presents. Since this last one knocked me on my arse, I went for a treat that I've been wanting a loooong time. A typewriter. How cute is my little Olympiette?

You can get you one on the 'bay, where I got mine. Alright, that one's going for a small fortune. I didn't pay that much, and mine came from Philly, not Australia. But they come up from time to time. I'll tap out a few words here and there, but mostly I couldn't resist an orange '70s typewriter, and I plan to oogle the hell out of it. (I'm thinking of your quote, Ellen: "If it ain't orange, I don't bother with it," lol.)

I want to say thank you to everyone who dropped by and left a comment or two since I've been off working for The Man. I didn't have room to respond, until now, but I appreciate you all nonetheless. :)

george carlin: michael jackson buries them all

don't you know baby yeah yeah

Rest in peace, Michael Jackson. We'll forever love you.

orange crushin'

Well, gosh. If I'd known you all were still here I would've come back sooner. :) Thanks for the comments on my last posts. Shout out to Trista, to whom I must say I don't understand my mortal fear of lizards either, especially since I'm only really afraid of them when they're inside the house. Saw another one while sitting on the porch and it was no big deal. When they're inside the house, I seem to think the next thing I know they'll be inside me. ACCKKK! I'm considering following my neighbor's advice and getting intervention.

Okay. No more lizards. May they live long and prosper. Outside.

Inside, where it's usually safe, I made this.

It went to Steven's new goddaughter, Soleil. It's superdeeduper cute, because of the great pattern and pretty yarn -- yarn that was once going to be a sweater for me, you guys know how these things go. The pattern is from "Nashua Handknits: Bloom," which you have to dig around to find. I do recommend the effort; "Bloom" has many lovely projects.

and she rises, this easter morn

This is why you shouldn't wait nearly a year to go running.

I wanted to get up early enough to catch Jack and family on their way to church. They live directly across the street from me, and I can't say why I'm so fascinated with their comings and goings, but I am. Maybe it's the classic American family in action thing. Mom. Dad. Three kids (as far as I can tell). Two dogs. A crew of cats. A car and a mini-van. Foreign to me not only by upbringing, but as a result of city living, apartment dwelling, all my adult life.

My grandmother used to say, when she'd catch me sleeping in on a summer day, Get up! White folks done been up. I was raised to be concerned with what white folks were up to, because they knew the right way to act. These white folks across the street apparently didn't get the Easter Sunday memo, the one that says be at church before 9 to beat the crowds and shuffle the kids into Sunday school for the Easter lesson. When I went to get something out of my car, Claire, the mom, was outside in her pajamas, fishing through the mini-van. We're going to have our Easter egg hunt inside, she yelled over to me. It's gonna be wet today. You going to church? I yelled back. Yes, she said. At eleven.

Hm. Eleven, I thought. Maybe my grandmother didn't know so much about what white folks get up to after all. (ETA: It's 12:07. I'm still writing this post, and they're back already. If church was this short when I was growing up, I might still be going.)

I was outside because I was preparing to go for my first run since I've lived here. I've fantasized about it for weeks, usually while my mouth has been stuffed with cookies. I knew it would happen on a Sunday, and this one seemed right, so off I went, through the wonderland of Bellaire, Texas.

Bellaire is a well-to-do hamlet inside Houston, a city in a city. It's kind of where white people go when they want to be alone. Today marked the first day I'd ever seen it through anything other than a car window, and, I have to say, it's a really nice place. When you're running, or walking, or skipping too I guess, people wave to you, even the cops. Granted, the only other black person I've seen who lives in this neighborhood I saw on the news. The cops shot him while he was standing unarmed in his own driveway. They didn't shoot me this morning, but I made sure to run with my hands up.

It was a perfect morning for running -- not too warm, cloudy, only a tinge muggy. I took along my camera phone to share some pictures. There are great street names like Lula and Betty and Effie and Cynthia and Valerie. My favorite is Phil. I love that there's a street named Phil, and I love the street itself.

It's a neighborhood in transition, meaning you can see what middle-class meant 50 years ago versus what it means now. Now, houses are three times the size they used to be. Most of the houses look like this.

But I'm drawn to the older ones. This is my favorite. Of course it's on Phil Street. And it has the tree of life in front of it.

Here's some Easter flora for you.

I love this door best. Someone, at some point, was very optimistic.

Home again.

i know it's not your birthday, but i brought you this dead lizard

Isn't it hard to come back to a place when you've been gone so long? I'd still be thinking wistfully of what to post and when if it wasn't for Natalie. She says my presence here matters, and that it's good for me, so here I am.

A day in a life is difficult to summarize, so I'm not going to attempt nearly two months. I'll pick up from where I am now, which isn't too far from where I was. It's still me and Mira, down here in the wilderness of Houston. Mira spends most of her time chasing anything that moves, including dogs and other cats, outside. I was in the habit of leaving the door cracked so she could come in and out at will, until yesterday. That's when she came galloping in as usual, then lay on the floor and started batting something around. At first I thought it was a leaf, then a voice said, Look again. By that time she'd laid the thing at my feet. It was a lizard, a dead one. It looked like a rubber toy. Do I need to remind anyone how I feel about lizards? Didn't think so.

Yet again, I ran like my hair was on fire. I called Natalie, then Schmin, so as not to be alone with the thing. Mira had already brought it closer to where I was, then ran back outside for more fun. I threw an old towel over it, and a huge flattened box because I didn't want Mira to pull the towel off. I broke camp first chance I got, and didn't return until I thought my neighbor's kids would be home. Thank God for my new hero, Jack, my neighbor's six-year-old. When his mom asked him if he'd pick up the lizard for me, he shrugged, like, Why not? What's the big deal? and I offered to sweeten the pot with 5 bucks. The whole time he was picking it up, I was jumping around hollering Don't let me see it! Don't let me see it! It probably crossed Jack's mind that I'm nuts, but little kids meet you where you live. Today when I saw him, he didn't avoid me, so he hasn't written me off, probably because of the money.

Aside from hiring children to save me from the wilds, I'm doing a bit of knitting, and dreaming of making a quilt. My last quilt, which I pieced donkey years ago, is the only thing I've sewed since I've been here. The one night I spent quilting it was one of my least favorite sewing experiences, and I haven't picked it up since. I like to sew, not break up wrestling matches. My machine and this quilt gots no love for each other. I will complete it, because it's for somebody special (whose mom will get me if I don't cough it up -- Hi, Mo!).

But, you know, inspiration strikes and you want to do other things. I've wanted to hand quilt for a long, long time, since way before I started knitting. Because I'll burst if I don't get to do it soon, I got the Gee's Bend books from the library. I have a big project that's overdue at work, and I've told myself that as a reward for finishing it I can buy whatever I want to make the quilt.

All was well with this plan, until I woke up sweating underneath my down comforter the other morning, with the Gee's Bend books in bed right next to me, and got to wondering what would be the harm in making one quick, simple project by machine, because I'm never going to find a summer bed covering that I'll like as much. Since I couldn't argue myself out of this, I went to Ross today and got some sheets and pillowcases for fabric. I don't want to spend a bunch of money on this one, and I'm not feeling up to torturing myself with too many choices in a fabric store, so the sheets seemed like the best alternative. I'm not going to use any filling, since it'll be hot as tarnation down here in a minute anyway.

At Ross you can't stop at what you go in to buy. This orange delight jumped out at me while I was innocently strolling by, so I bought it, too.

Well. Hello. I'm back. I won't be such a stranger, and I hope you won't either. I'll leave you with some quotes from the great ladies of Gee's Bend. If I try to say why you should pick up these books, if you haven't already, I'll start to cry. The women of Gee's Bend, and their incredible quilts, are just the whole of life.

I never did like the book patterns some people had. Those things had too many little bitty blocks. I like big pieces and long strips. However I get them, that's how I used them. I like to sew them however they be. I work it out, study the way to make it, get it to be right, kind of like working a puzzle.... My husband, Lucius Young, and me had nine head of children -- six boys and three girls. He got killed in a car wreck in 1970. We didn't get along so good anyway. He treated me bad with other women. -- Annie Mae Young (b. 1928), whose quilt is featured on the cover of The Quilts of Gee's Bend.

I always loved sewing. I made all my children's clothes. Didn't need a pattern. Same with quilts. If I seen a dress or a quilt or something I liked, I can make it. I just draw it out the way I want it. In the quilting bee time, I started using patterns, but I shouldn't have did it. It broke the ideas I had in my head. I should have stayed with my own ideas. I kept making quilts all the way up to last year. I still got the feeling every now and then to sew, but I just don't have the mind to do it now. My hands are good, but I ain't quite got the spirit. -- not like before, when I'm always ready, day and night. Age got me. -- Nettie Young (b. 1917)

What I first did, I showed it to my daddy, and he was amazed over me making it.... Whatever we did, my daddy always just carry it up, you know, and that made us do better. He wouldn't never say That ain't right or You didn't fix it like this or like that. He always made much of it. That made us feel good, you know: "Pa said it's alright." -- Amelia Bennett (1914-2002)

I worked for two, three families. I worked long as I could afford satisfaction. When they start to complain, I might go someplace else. The last job I had, I worked for her for thirty-one years down in Gastonburg. Ora Laird. They say she was a mean lady, but I could get along with anybody once I found out their ways. I enjoyed working for her because she didn't ever tell me what to do. Not even what to cook for dinner. She say, "I ain't no cook. I eat. You the cook; cook what you want to." I never think I'm a good cook, but everywhere I work they said I was a good cook. I hate cooking." -- Polly Bennett (b. 1922)

my playground

I'm having a wonderful time in New York City with Mister Stevens and our longtime friend Elspeth, who dropped in on her way from England to Trinidad, and who looks like a million dollars. Last night the three of us walked around Harlem to get ingredients for the fish pie Elspeth made for dinner (too good for leftovers), Elspeth and I eating patties, and it was just like fifteen-plus years ago, when we used to day trip Ann Arbor because there was more fun to be had than in Toledo.

As we were going around, ordering basa at the fish market and red wine at the wine store -- even though Elspeth admonished us that white goes with fish -- I felt myself in a place of ease and comfort, present in a way I haven't been. I've been sitting in my house in Houston, doing what my friend V calls ruminating, flipping the same What am I gonna do's? and Why haven't I been able to kill these tired old thoughts? over and over, and it's so soothing to come where everything feels alright. Walking along is just walking along. Talking is just talking. The people to whom we tip our hats along the way just that. No import.

There is so much to be said for knowing people forever. Old friends help me locate the open space, the space that eludes me when I'm alone. What's really lovely is that with them that space is always there, always welcoming me home.

the accidental review: stencil 101

You've seen it before.

You call yourself going to Jo-Ann's for a zipper. But it's Friday night and you just got paid, plus you've got a 40%-off coupon burning a hole in your pocket. You imagine yourself high-minded and frugal, but you know you can't go in Jo-Ann's with ample time, flush with cash and a coupon, and come out with just a zipper. As soon as you park in front of the joint, you drop the facade. You walk in the door looking for trouble, and at Jo-Ann's, you always find it.

Before I found the trouble I was looking for, I had taken advantage of the Butterick pattern sale, had my zipper and a few other doodads. I was navigating the tricky waters of the 40% coupon, trying to find something that was worth the discount, but that wouldn't cost a sacrificial amount of money even afterward. Something that was just the right price, and that I really wanted at the same time. Sometimes the two don't meet, and you wind up using the coupon on something paltry, and you get cheated out of that fresh-kill feeling.

It was not mine to be cheated, because sitting in a shopping cart filled with waiting-to-be-shelved books was Stencil 101. I upturn every rock in Jo-Ann's -- and it ain't easy, because it's dark as a cave in those stores -- to find something fresh and interesting, something I haven't seen before. The minute I excavated Stencil 101, I'd found it.

I've been on the hunt for good stencils for a while, but I'd never heard of Ed Roth, the book's author, who sells Mylar stencils and supplies via his website, Stencil1. Apparently Brooklyn-based Roth is a stencil guru. His style, drawn from street graffiti, is bold and direct, no cuddly teddy bears or adorably seasonal bouquets.

With Roth's designs, you can bring a little urban cool indoors (or wherever you might need some). I like to be surprised, so I didn't look through the book in the store, just realized what it was, salivated over the good times to be had, and bought it. When I got home and took my time with it, I grew more excited, because the intro section on how to stencil, stenciling supplies, and the history of stenciling is both educational and inspiring.

After I read through it I wanted to stencil everything, even Mira (I checked; she's got enough room on her sides). It was after 1am, so I had to wait, but I planned to start with an obvious and easy surface, the baby onesie. (A note on onesies: At Target, I initially bought the Gerber brand, but took them back for the Circo brand because the Gerbers run tiny and feel cheapy thin for stenciling. I'd recommend Circo for better quality.)

I had fabric paint on hand, having ordered it last summer just in case. I got it, along with some fabric brushes, here. There are paints for light-colored fabrics and others for dark-colored, so keep that in mind. These go on lighter fabrics.

Turns out fabric brushes don't work as well as special stencil brushes, which I didn't have, but Roth -- heck, let's call him Ed; he's our new friend -- Ed says foam brushes work, and that's what they had at Hobby Lobby, so that's what I got. (Did I mention I live two minutes away from Hobby Lobby? These are dangerous times.) I also got a spray adhesive, which is one of the options Ed recommends for securing the stencil to the surface you're going to paint.

If I have one beef with Stencil 1 -- okay, I don't. But it would be nice to have a picture, rather than just descriptions, of the brushes and other supplies that he lists. You can leaf through the book and find a few, but I like to have an all-inclusive image to match up to what's on the store shelves. I'm hardly anal, except when it comes to craft supplies.

Once I got everything together, which didn't take a lot of effort -- don't we love that? -- I started working on my onesies. The only problem was that I couldn't stop. I was planning to stencil two or three, all for Mister Stevens's new Goddaughter, Soleil, who is a month old. (Don't show me a month-old girl and not expect me to make something for her.) I ended up stenciling all five onesies, the last one front and back.

Still hungry for more, I stenciled this ugly Hanes sweatshirt I bought on the Target sale rack for $1.64. I got the shirt for warmth, not looks, but I think the stencil is an improvement. I was desperate to keep stenciling, so I didn't take the time to center the design or anything. I also had in mind to use it as a tester to see if the paint washes as well as I've heard it does.

So, this stenciling thing. How good is it? The best. I am officially All About It. It's virtually fool-proof, not as messy as you might think, and I can't imagine crack is more fun to do. The instructions in Stencil 1 are simple and yield fantastic results. The fabric paint dries quickly, so you could make a same-day shower gift.

Ed's love affair with the stencil is infectious, and he sets us up nicely with a list of resources and a gallery of VCPs (Very Cool Projects). Not to mention the fabulous stencils he's selected for us. They are laminated card stock, so most of them won't last beyond a few uses -- especially my beloved Afro Girl, due to the fineness of the design. I'm going to order the Mylar version from Stencil1, which by the way, is a treasure trove of information about the craft. Go there and watch Martha Stewart stencil one of Ed's designs with Cynthia Nixon.

Ed encourages us to make our own stencils. I take his instructions as a command, not a suggestion. I've been clicking around, checking out supplies. (Hell yeah I want a stencil burner! Whuut?!) Soon I'm going all the way over the edge, and don't think I'll be looking back, because I won't.

ETA: I sent Ed an e-mail to thank him for turning me into a stenciling fool, and he posted about this review on his blog. Check it out!

frankie valli slept here

January was fun. The Bubs. Natalie. Very closely followed by my partner in crime for nearly 30 years, Steven.

Steven, bka Mister Stevens, was only here overnight, but it was fabulous to see him nonetheless. Neither of us could recall the last time we'd seen each other. We won't go that long again. I'll be visiting him in NYC in a couple of weeks.

Since our time was limited, I mostly drove around and pointed out stuff, trying not to get us lost. Before his flight home, we went to what I understand is a Houston institution, The Avalon Diner ("Justly Famous Since 1938"). Just like the Singer store, the Avalon is deceptively tucked inside a strip mall. Its outside we know too well, but its inside is anachronistic. I wouldn't be surprised if the waitresses, who appear to be in their 50s and 60s, have been working there since they were teenagers. One of them is pictured, sitting down, propped by an elbow, world weary. (Which doesn't mean we didn't get great service.)

Mister Stevens and I followed the song in our approach to the meal. Really good, classic American diner food. I'm going to stay out late and get a hangover so I can eat there in the proper context.

Yeah, man. Mister Stevens is cool. He's got the forty-year-old's mark of cool, fresh ink.

gone fishin'

It's a shame how much work I'm shirking today. I'm still in my pajamas, so of course that means me and water haven't been acquainted. I'm soaking up the sun and going 'round and 'round on something for me. Yarn's got me under its spell, for sure.

In a little while I'll break free. But it sure is fun while it's lasting.

we had a time, we had a time

That's what my grandmother would say about any good gathering she'd been part of. It's what I'm saying about Natalie's visit early last month. Child, we had a time. I've been meaning to tell you guys just how good a time (and Natalie already has).

Natalie is easy summer breezy. She's my ride or die chick. She's not fussy, is easy to share a restaurant dish with, and can find fun even when it's hiding. It doesn't hurt that we have so many of the same interests, and a determination to indulge them all whenever we're together. In case no one has noticed, I love Natalie.

I remember starting to post tributes to my friends in LA. I got a few done, then started writing one about Natalie, right after she brought me here to Houston and abandoned me. (Oh c'mon, she did!) That was the end of the tributes. I couldn't finish Natalie's without crying. It'll have to be enough to say I am blessed with great friends from coast to coast, and that Natalie's visit reminded me of how very fortunate I am.

So, what did we do?

She was here for a few brief glorious days, and we built our schedule around one of our favorite pastimes, eating. We had Mexican, Turkish, and Thai. I made the standard American breakfast, (turkey) bacon and eggs, a couple of mornings, and the night she arrived we worked on finishing off my chili. (I made a lot. I'd frozen some for Natalie.)

Of course we hit my favorite spot -- I think it's on Natalie's list of favorites now too -- The Guild. Forget about it. If the apocalypse comes, I hope The Guild is the only place left standing. I think this would be okay with God, seeing as it's The Guild Shop of St. John the Divine, and proceeds go to charity. (Okay maybe add St. Vincent de Paul to the post-apocalypse list. That way I'd have a place to go for side trips.) We found some goodies at The Guild, naturally. Natalie bought me some lovely things, including this beautiful vintage Pyrex dish. (It features a pretty kitchen towel she gave me for Christmas.)

My score for the day was this lamp. I love, love, love its corky goodness, a surface like the moon (I may change the accordion shade sometime). I bought it for my bedroom. Natalie said it's too humongous as a night table lamp, but when she saw it in the room, she liked it. Some day it might makes its way to the living room.

We also hit Yarns 2 Ewe. I hadn't been back since right after Natalie left the last time, and now that we've spent more time there, I have to tell you the selection is out of sight. We had a blast. I only bought a couple skeins, but I felt up every skein, hank, and ball in the joint. Natalie did some damage, but she was allowed, since she was on vacation.

Another day we walked around Rice Village, checking out Project Runway's Chloe Dao's Lot 8.

We stumbled on a fabric store there that had prices that were the most outrageous I'd ever seen. I mean just way over the top. Cotton prints for 19.99 a yard, and I couldn't see a special thing about them. Such nonsense. We had to make up for it, so we went to Glick, a discount fabric warehouse. Glick is great for home dec stuff, trims, and cotton prints like Alexander Henry in bulk. We looked at fabric for me to make curtains, and Natalie bought some pillow forms. They carry multiple sizes at great prices, and they're stuffed with down, not polyester. Unfortunately, Natalie couldn't get them in her suitcase, so I inherited them. Here's Glick's great wall of tassles.

It was wonderful having Natalie here. It didn't feel like home until she came. Even Dancing James Brown, spotted during our travels, knows what I'm talking about.

two that went

This is one of those mindless projects, a smidge dull even, that you finish and think, Eh. Then you put it on, step back, and go, Wait a minute ... not too shabby. Not too shabby at all.

It's not mine though. In fact, I mailed it to its rightful owner today. I made it as part of a prize package that I donated to our Knitters for Obama Ravelry group. Through 600 people, we raised an astonishing $32,000 to donate to the Obama campaign. Honestly, when I saw how well that raffle was going -- all the determination and generosity -- I knew Obama would win. I had to be a part of it, so I gave the scarf and a Knitpicks gift certificate. The raffle ended Nov 1st, and I sent the gift certificate off right away, but y'all know I didn't have the scarf done. I'd started it not knowing whom I'd be giving it to, and after watching the colors repeat a couple of times, had grown bored with knitting it. I finally picked it up again last week. If I hadn't set it aside, it would've been a quick knit.

I'm thinking of making one for myself, since I've got another skein of the yarn. But that would probably take me another three months.

Project Notes
Obama Raffle Scarf
Pattern: Just a simple bias-knit scarf, courtesy of Lion Brand.
Yarn: Universal Yarns Classic Shades, #704 (Used about 3/4ths of a skein.)
Needles: Size 13 Lantern Moons. I find them unwieldy because I usually use circulars, but damn they're lookers.
Fun factor: Not too high, but anything for The Prez.

Remember this little "rocket to the moon" pinafore?

It's been a while since I made it. Mister Stevens bought it for his new Goddaughter, sweet Soleil. I just love a pinafore. I want to make them all the time.