Purly Victorious

traveling on, but here's been good

2011-06-05T07:38:00.001-07:00

Well, ol' Purly Vee and I, we go way back now. The sign of a good relationship is an amicable parting. I'm moving on, but Purly Victorious will still be here. Thanks to everyone who ever visited; I've loved having you around. For a while, at least, you can find me here, and you can always e-mail me at carlitadee at yahoo dot com. xo

rock the new year

2010-12-30T20:25:00.000-08:00

Oh boy have I been watching too many episodes of "Toddlers & Tiaras" on TLC. I never meant to watch this show, but yesterday I woke up to a marathon, and that was all she wrote. The world of child beauty pageants is grotesque and anachronistic, and once you've made the mistake of turning your head to glance at it, it's impossible to look away. In between miming their kids' acts while the kids perform, the wacko stage moms often shout to them, "Rock it out, girl!" Or, the kids will tell what they plan to do once they take the stage: "I'm going to rock it!" Whether they do or not depends on your tolerance for the bizarre and the downright scary.

Either way, that's my plan for 2011. I'm going to rock it out. I'm going to get on stage and let my freak flag fly.

Happy 2011, and may you rock it too.

(Photo: Nutcracker rockers, Norm's Restaurant on LaCienega Blvd, Los Angeles, 12/19/10)

joyride

2010-11-30T13:49:00.000-08:00

Facebook is a killer. A killer of blogging. I'm on there talking to friends old and new so much that I've pretty much abandoned old Purly V. I was thinking of shutting it down, but decided there's no harm in leaving it up, and then I made a pact with my buddy Lilia that we'd resurrect our blogs by posting once a month. The advantage that blogs have over Facebook is that you can get more in-depth with whatever it is you want to say. In a sense, that's also the disadvantage, because while Facebook lets you fire off a line or two and move on, blogging comes with the sense that more needs to be done. More words, more pictures, more -- more. Maybe it's just me. And I really shouldn't go forgetting that because blogs are public, I've met some wonderful strangers who have become friends here, including Lilia. There's a lot to be said for that.

Since I owe a post for November, I'll share what's on my mind on this last day, which is, in addition to finding a full-time job and taking a walk, riding my new-to-me bicycles. I've wanted a bike since someone stole all but the front tire of my Specialized Crossroads from behind my apartment building in L.A. back in 2002 (I'm getting misty just thinking about it). A month ago I bought a really nice 1990s Trek road bike from a friend. She was kind enough to sell it to me for a song. It's in great condition, so much so that one of the guys at the bike shop where I had it looked over wants to buy it from me (alas, the answer is no) and Schmin wants it too (maybe someday). Still, it's a road bike, which is a very specific kind of bike, and not, for me, the kind to tool around town carrying library books and groceries and just ... tooling around town. Having that bike only made me want to tool more, so after riding it once, off to Craigslist I went to see what bike bargains could be had there. For more than a song but, with Schmin's help, not more than I could pony up, I found a (2006, from what I can gather online) Cannondale Adventure 400. The split second I laid eyes on it, I knew we were in for a love affair. I bought it, had a rear rack installed, bought lights and a market bag, and have been riding in bliss ever since. The Trek I'm going to use for touring; the Cannondale for commuting, shopping, and good old-fashioned fun. So far, the best thing about having two bikes is that I can ride with visitors. Schmin was here for Thanksgiving, and we took a midnight ride around my neighborhood Sunday night. He rode the Trek, of course. It was fun on top of fun. We raced each other (not much of a contest, he's 25, male, in great shape, and was on a road bike), took pictures, and tried to see if one of those electronic road signs that display car speed would register our bike speeds (it did). I've loved bikes since my grandfather taught me to ride without training wheels, and owning even one good bike, not to mention two, is a dream come true.

Here are a few more shots from The Midnight Ride of Schmin & Schmin.

i made some things and had a birthday kind of around the same time

2010-06-03T17:34:00.000-07:00

So much good stuff to chat about. First, crochet.

This little red number is my first crocheted sweater. It was a learning experiment, to be sure, but it's cute enough to give away. I'm sending it to Avery, along with the blue knitted sweater. (I know. I've been lax about mailing anything lately. My sewing room is filled with unmailed gifts.)

Next, I made this green sweater for the young woman who works with me at
Knitting in the Loop. I used Vanna's Choice yarn, which I probably won't use again, but the sweater is nice for a baby boy. I gifted it along with some plaid cotton button-down shirts from Target. It was an adorably preppy combo.

This pink, cream, and brown sweater, which I call The Neapolitan, is maybe my favorite. It's made with a discontinued yarn called Cotton Candy by the Woodstock Wool Company, which is apparently out of business. It's too bad because it's the softest, most gorgeous cotton I've ever used. These pictures hardly do it justice. This one is for Mister Steven's god daughter Soliel, who is due a new sweater from me.

All three of these sweaters are from the same pattern, Yarny Days's Every Day Is a New Sweater Day. I can't say enough good things about this pattern. The the subtraction of the collar, the addition of scallops (as I did for the the Neapolitan), contrasting single crochet edging, flowers, more or fewer buttons, etc., completely changes the look of the sweater. It's just a wonderful pattern that's perfect for a novice sweater crocheter.

I used another Yarny Days pattern, Bombay Love, to make this yellow one. It's a shop sample for Knitting in the Loop. It's also a blast to crochet, and a very easy pattern.

Speaking of Knitting in the Loop, my friend Mishell and I had a little birthday gathering there. We have the same birthday, May 16, and the same middle name, so we're destined to celebrate together.

My sisters and my niece came. They are, left to right, Tish, Siyah, and Kale. I tell everyone I changed Kale's diapers, because I did, but I think now that she's in her 30s she'd like me to stop sharing that information.

Here are a few more party shots. The woman hugging Mishell in the first one is Judy Amonett, who owns Knitting in the Loop and has a wicked sense of humor and a heart of pure gold.

it all started with number 19

2010-05-11T12:44:00.001-07:00

Whuu! Whuu! Whu-whu-whu! That's me blowing the dust off this blog.

I have been having way too much fun for an unemployed person. I'm about to bring it to an end -- the unemployment, not the fun -- but while I've still got plenty of leisure time, I'm giving all my love to making things. Making things, and hanging around with other people who make things. Also, there's been the securing of new materials with which to make things, but that's the joy and the hazard of a part-time job at a yarn shop.

What I've had more time and opportunity to appreciate about Houston is that it lives up to its reputation as a friendly city. People take you in like a long-lost friend, and it's easy to forget you've been around for a relatively short period of time. This morning my neighbor took me to Pilates class. Afterward, at Starbucks, I was telling her how much I like Houston, and how, being from up north and having lived on both coasts, I'm often surprised by how fundamentally kind people are. I know lovely people and have beautiful friends everywhere I've been, but down here there's a concentration, and you don't have to develop an intimate relationship with a person to get the goods. "Endure the weather and love the people," my neighbor said. That pretty much sums it up (except the weather's been great this year too). It's better than the other way around.

I'm about to celebrate my second birthday in this fair city. One of my knitting friends has the same birthday (and the same middle name) as I do, May 16, and so there will be cake and merriment at the shop. I love my birthday. (I love anybody's birthday.) Whether I've been good or bad, I always get myself a gift. Two years ago my gift to myself was an iPod. This year I'm not rolling like that; something more humble, pricewise, was in order. I finagled Schmin and Mister Stevens into the Knitpicks Harmony set, which I hadn't even wanted until people at the shop kept moaning in ecstasy while using them. (Even the owner has a set. They were her first needles, and she uses them exclusively.) I need a food processor, but haven't done the homework to find the right one yet. Nothing else is on my list, but that's the fun of birthdays, isn't it? People give you things that are surprising and wonderful and you grow to treasure them, and it's also good to surprise yourself. It's the main occasion when I'll see something and not question whether I ought to have it. I give myself permission.

This year's gift all started with number 19. I bought my niece a used Kenmore sewing machine for her 11th birthday, which was last week, and I was tooling around the thrift store to find something suitable for her to keep its accessories in. I found something, then wandered over to the book section. I was there for a while, checking out this and that, when I came across a slender book titled Stitch by Stitch: A Home Library of Sewing, Knitting, Crochet, and Needlecraft. Like, hunh? Did this not have my name all over it? I do every single thing in the freakin' title.

Even though it said Home Library, it didn't dawn on me until I paid my dollar for the book and got it home that there were -- gasp -- others in the series. (Remember the last time this happened to me with a little collection of '70s craft books?) I was in possession of number 19, and whether there were 18 or 75 more, I would have the rest. Google revealed that Stitch by Stitch comes as a set of 20, and, as is typical with these old collections, people mostly sell them one by one. Determined as I was, I wouldn't pay 5 - 15 dollars each. Luckily, there was a complete set on good old eBay. The seller said it was in excellent condition. Lo, it came with its Master Index and bonus Stitch a Gift booklet. It also came with, be still my heart, a pile of paper patterns that were released with it. It was selling for 22.49 + 14. for shipping, which was very reasonable.

Although the seller sent them via Media Mail, they arrived quickly, and overall they're mint. I doubt the patterns were ever unfolded. I've been crocheting like hooks are about to disappear, so I'm particularly excited about the crochet lessons featured in each volume. I read a review (maybe on Amazon) that said there are hard-to-find techniques included.

I'm hoping Natalie will want to sew these evil twin outfits with me.

Another happy birthday rolls around. I feel blessed and fortunate. And, as ever, crafty.

chasing that high

2010-04-02T17:11:00.000-07:00

I loved knitting this baby sweater the first time around. Though I rarely enjoy making the same thing more than once, I figured knitting this pattern again would induce a mildly comatose but highly warm and pleasant sensation akin to being high on Vicodin. But alas, no. By the time I hit the button band and seaming, little as there is, I completely lost interest and let the thing hang around unfinished. I knew how it was going to turn out; I'd already seen this movie.

The addition of the crocheted flower was a suggestion made by one of our regulars at the knitting shop, and it's my favorite thing. I'm still amazed that I can crochet anything. Hell, I'm still wondering who's doing all the writing, knitting, sewing, painting -- anything creative -- around here. I look at things that I've made and fall in love, but I don't associate myself with having made them. I sense it's a God thing (meaning some force creates through me/us), for those of you who might know this feeling. Does anyone know this feeling?

Anyhow, though early on I found myself over knitting it, it's very sweet, and I'm eager to send it to Ailey, the baby girl of a friend who is my friend through Mister Stevens. And so the sweater is off to motherless Brooklyn*, which is appropriate, seeing as I know the baby's dad, not her mom.

*I have not read this book, but I have a crush on the title. Same with Bring Me Your Saddest Arizona, which I have read and did find beautiful and moving.

I leave you with the devil paw of doom.

Note to Heather: Hello, friend! The granny square blanket, part of which you see in the photos, is about 1/3 joined. The rest of the squares cry out from my sewing room floor, and probably will for at least another month.

the girl i love

2010-04-02T08:25:00.000-07:00

I finished a new baby sweater and had a quick photo shoot on the lawn just now. I'll be back to yap about the sweater, but I want to share this picture of mischievous Mira, who commandeered my makeshift set, and pounced on my props. It's hard to get good pictures of her, because of her color, and because she's maybe a little ... hyper.

She'll be two this summer. Life has grown infinitely more interesting and full since she's been around.

knitting is not a punishment; it's a privilege

2010-03-29T09:00:00.000-07:00

This is making the knitting rounds via Ravelry and all that, but I have to post it here. I adore CBS News Sunday Morning, which is where I saw this segment. Marry it with knitting, and I'm in deep.

eat this, not that

2010-03-19T19:50:00.000-07:00

I'll tell you what. You know I just ate something good if I'm on here posting about it.

These days one of my main priorities is to eat well, which means more vegetables for one thing. The last couple of nights I've been using my little in-pot steamer to steam broccoli and cabbage that taste like big old forkfuls of responsibility. Not bad, those steamed veggies. Just not what you'd want to eat, more what you should eat. Tonight I decided roasting was in order, and I realized I'd never had roasted cabbage that I could recall. Roasting a cabbage seems so obvious, but odd at the same time. I asked my mother if it was okay to even attempt such a thing (read: I Googled "roasted cabbage"; I have come to think of Google as the mother I never had, one who gives wise advice on unlimited topics) and came up with a few simple steps. Where I would've gone wrong is in the cutting of the cabbage, which is best done in wedges, like this recipe. I don't eat pork, so I icksnayed the bacon. For seasoning I did sea salt, fresh ground black pepper, garlic powder, and paprika. I drizzled and rubbed on olive oil and let the cabbage cook for 25-30 minutes at 450 degrees.

The result is hands down the absolute best cabbage I've ever eaten. Really, one of the absolute best anythings I've ever eaten. Roasting cabbage elevates it from cabbage to something as close to God as food comes.

Eat this, not that. That being anything else.

(Photos courtesy of Apartment Therapy's the kitchn.)

kind of about cars, but mostly about birds (with a cat along the way)

2010-03-13T20:19:00.000-08:00

I'm happy you guys like the colors of my scarf. I'm making one for Natalie, but I have to rip it out because the consensus in my knitting group is that the colors I'm using don't work as well together. Oh well. You win some, and others you start again.

I haven't been knitting/crocheting much this week. Instead I've been focusing on life matters, and it's been a week of great relief and even joy.

Today the weather was so nice that after running errands I didn't want to be in the house; so I took Elizabeth Gilbert's Committed and sat in my car, in my driveway, and read.

I'm a big fan of sitting in the car, at home or in random parking lots. During break times at my old job, I'd drive to Vons Supermarket on 3rd and Vermont, sit in the lot and eat lunch or daydream. I don't rightly know why I'm drawn to hanging out in parked vehicles. Maybe the indoor/outdoor nature of being in a windowed box, a small, movable world, in private but in public simultaneously. It helps to have a sun roof. Then you feel like you're camping out.

At home there's only so much car camping I can do before nosy Mira comes around. She peeks in the sun roof, sometimes swiping at me, then treads on the windshields, leaving lots of paw prints to remember her by. Sometimes she'll jump in the car and act all trapped, scrambling to get out. I gripe, but I love this cat endlessly.

The view through the sun roof is what inspired this post. The sky was such a gorgeous blue, and there were these yellow birds I'd never noticed before filling up the tree branches above my house. (I barely know a cardinal from a crow; so if you can tell me what kind of bird these are, please do.)

danke schon

2010-03-04T17:38:00.000-08:00

This is a post to thank Stacy, Lisa G, Ellen, afrowalking, golden star, Summer, and woolanthropy. Some of you are my real-life friends, others I only know from this weird, wonderful Internet, but you're all so sweet to comment on my blog, even after I've left it alone for like ever, and you say the kindest, most uplifting things, and I love you for it.

That's what's really on my mind, but while I'm here I'll share a project.

You have to love crochet, because all you have to do is watch a little TV while you're doing it, and voila! instant scarf, or shawl, or baby sweater ... whatever. It's really fast, and since it uses more yarn than knitting, it gives you an excuse to buy more.

I crocheted this scarf from this pattern. I made it solely because I saw the brown (Lamb's Pride Cafe Au Lait) and green (Lamb's Pride Moss) yarns resting in their cubby at work, and believed with all my heart that they needed to be wed in a project. Even with maneuvering the stripes, the scarf only took a couple of days, working off and on, to complete.

i'm in the loop

2010-02-26T12:33:00.000-08:00

Okay enough with the merry Christmas. It's February, for cryin' out loud.

I've been letting this blog sit because I'm not into chronicling my every fart; I like to post when there's movement on the knitting/crocheting/sewing/painting front -- some pretty thing to show and talk about. Or least when interesting things are happening. I lost my job at the end of December, and things just didn't look very interesting after that. It wasn't losing that particular job that proved a downer. It was having to dig down deep and find, at 43, the fortitude to pursue the things that are really important to me, like writing. I'm still digging, but I see gold at the bottom of the well.

In the meantime, I got a new part-time job, because it's good to have at least a semblance of a schedule. My new job is an "in-betweener," something to do while applying for work in my field. I started today, and I hesitate to call it work. My job warrants a post, because it's here:

(There's an adorable tiny Natalie on the porch because we took these pictures on one of her visits. I borrowed them from her blog. Thanks, Natalie.)

Knitting in the Loop, Houston's brightest, loveliest knitting store. Probably the worst possible place for a yarnaholic like me to work. (I like cake too, which is why you'd never catch me working at a bakery.) But the staff is ever so nice, the yarn selection is wonderful, and there's a steady stream of regulars who like to come sit and knit. Several of them belong to the knitting group I attend on Thursday mornings; so friends drop in all the time.

I told Judy, the store's owner, that she might as well go ahead and pay me in yarn. I'll need a part-time job to pay for this part-time job, yeesh. If you've never been in a knitting store when a fresh shipment of yarn arrives, you're missing a spectacle. It's like watching piranhas attack a steak. One of my tasks today was to put price tags on yarn. It would've been easy enough if my hands didn't keep fondling every hank I was supposed to price. And has anyone noticed how accessories keep getting cuter? My, my, my. I've got my eye on a little sheep that functions as a scissors fob. Retardedly unnecessary, but one is sure to follow me home.

If ever you should find yourself in Houston, now you know where to find yarn (and me).

i wish you a merry christmas

2009-12-25T14:30:00.000-08:00

And a fabulous New Year!

but i do loves the crochet

2009-12-16T00:00:00.000-08:00

I used to joke that the best way for me to leave a project unfinished was to do it in crochet. For the longest I couldn't fully appreciate the form, though I've always liked the fabric it creates. My afghan endeavor has shown me the light I tell you. When Ellen put out a call for donations to the Orphan Foundation of America's Red Scarf Project a few weeks ago, I decided to answer, but my creative calendar is pretty full. I started knitting a scarf, using this pattern. In a full evening I got a little past what you see in the sample photo, and I realized knitting the scarf wouldn't do.

My favorite way to tie a scarf. Its slight ascot air makes even the poorest scarf look rich.

I needed to be able to complete the project in a day or two, and if granny squares have taught me anything, it's that crochet kicks knitting's ass when it comes to speed (another thing Ellen always told us). If you're looking for quick turnaround and don't want to use bulky yarn, there's no better way to go. I ripped out the knitting, found a simple crochet pattern, and worked it up lickety split. (I don't know if it was masochism or hedonism that made me plan to make two scarves, but the reality of finals week at work set in and I had to simmer down and settle for one.) The yarn is a more-than-decent acrylic, Hobby Lobby's "I Love This Yarn!" Beat that for a name. Under 3 bucks and I could've gotten two scarves out of it.

Here's what you see when you open my front door:

168

2009-12-13T00:47:00.000-08:00

It's nearly 3 a.m. Sunday and I'm up cooking turkey meatloaf, garlic mashed potatoes (heavy cream, heavy cream), steamed broccoli, and roasted zucchini squash. I'd planned to cook Saturday afternoon, but I swear sometimes I don't come to life until the middle of the night. I can't wait to see how the meatloaf comes out; I've never made it before, and as usual I combined a couple of recipes, didn't measure, and added a few flourishes. We'll see.

Thanks for the comments on the sweater blanket. I'm glad y'all appreciate it like I do. It defines cozy. The only bad thing about it is that it's hard to get up once you're snuggled underneath it. golden star asked a question about construction, and perhaps a few more curious souls might venture here someday. To that end, I'll say that since I don't yet have a zigzag foot for the machine I used, I straight stitched my blanket. It wasn't hard at all; in fact, what was born of necessity is now preference, as I would do it that way again. I think it's easier than fussing with the right zigzag width. It's cleaner and likely more durable too.

I tried to stick to a 1/4" seam allowance, maybe a little more, and where I went off I just trimmed down to that much. I basically sewed it like a regular quilt. To line it, I faced the right sides together and did the old sew-around-but-leave-a-hole trick. The hole was just big enough to pull the entire combobulation through. ("Combobulation" doesn't seem to be recognized as a word -- I am doing my best to change this -- but it's 3 a.m. and y'all know what I mean.) I closed the hole when I topstitched the blanket.

On the granny square front (is there any other place to be?), I'm now joining and edging my squares. I crocheted 168 of them, all approximately 6" x 6". I wanted my queen-sized bed to be well covered, and with edging and blocking, it will be.

Because Ellen does not play around when it comes to working in yarn ends while you crochet, neither do I. I don't have ends to weave in, only the last little tail on each square to crochet in as I'm edging and joining. This is a tremendous time and sanity saver. Another fabulous technique is the method I'm using to edge and join simultaneously. There are several tutorials on it, but the best one I found is here on YouTube. It's in two parts, and very easy to understand. You can read my gushing comment to the woman who posted the video, offering to have her sainted and telling her I'll send Schmin around to do her bidding. I've joined 18 squares so far, 150 to go.

I loved making the squares, but have to admit I'm relieved to be putting them all together. I wanted no two squares to be alike, and racking my brain to decently combine colors for the last 30 or so squares was borderline crazy making. Now it's white, ah, white. Actually a creamy color called Aran, but the point is I don't have to do any more thinking, which suits me fine.

ETA: 4:35 a.m. Shit this meatloaf is good.

straw into gold

2009-12-05T17:00:00.000-08:00

More like old sweaters and a sheet into a blanket, but six of one, half a dozen of the other.

I've been wanting to make a felted sweater blanket fo-evah, ever since I saw this one in Alterknits a few years back:

I don't know why I like this book so much. Some of the projects I wouldn't particularly make -- I mean, reference this guy:

How he got that girl while wearing that sweater, I'll never know. A moment of questionable taste aside, the book always inspires me. I think it's because it has soft, modern photography; a very open kind of creativity; quiet loveliness; and Portland as a backdrop.

The front took me roughly from roughly 7 p.m. until 1:30 a.m. I still get crazy to finish things and stay up all night sometimes, but I would've put this one down around midnight if it wasn't for the fact that I was having the absolute best conversation with my friend V while I was working on it. Between the making and the wonderful, wonderful talking, time flew by. At about 2:15 I lay on the couch to test the blanket out, and that was all she wrote until I woke up and got in bed at 6 a.m. I got up a couple hours later and cut and sewed the lining. I so didn't want to line it; I already miss the stretchy goodness of the sweaters flying solo, but it wasn't quite warm enough. I used a faux denim sheet, and now it's just right.

This was one of those projects that I wanted to make in an instant. I told Natalie that I didn't want it to become a thing. The granny square afghan is enough of a thing, among several other things, now that I think about it, and I was after a quick and dirty fix. Not to mention that it was in the 20s last night; so I needed a cozy couch blanket post-haste.

The process of making it was fun and liberating. I started a section without too much thought to anything but not cutting the sweaters into too many pieces (thus increasing my workload), and other sections evolved from there. I love it when something takes over and you just go with it. I like the end result a lot, even though it's on the masculine side. Left to me, there'd be orange and brown here, probably instead of the gray. But finding 100%-wool sweaters to felt is the hardest part of making these blankets, especially when you live in Texas or California. In the men's section at Value Village, I managed to sort through the acrylic Cosby sweaters and come away with a decent haul, and I got a couple more from The Salvation Army. I paid from 2.80 to 4.90 per sweater (would've been more, but The Salvation Army was having a half-price day). What I wanted was a fabulous selection at 5 bucks all-you-can-grab, but that didn't happen. I'm definitely going to make more of these, and if ever I find the perfect sweaters to suit my liking (orange, orange, and more orange), I'll pass this one on to Mister Stevens or some other dude.

You should make one of these. You can get all fancy pants, stay more true to the one in Alterknits, or patch to your heart's content. Anything goes. My best advice is to iron your sections as you make them. I wasn't, but had to Stitch Witchery a couple of holes and noticed how nice ironing was making the thing look; so I kept it up. When am I going to learn that the iron is a true blue friend to mankind?

Oh, yeah. I almost forgot. I made this blanket on my new-to-me sewing machine, Blanche II, a Kenmore 1781.

I had to give the original Blanche away because it was too heavy to ship from LA, being in a table and all. That about broke my heart, as that was then my main machine, and I truly enjoyed sewing on it. I've been using this one for the little sewing I've been doing, but it's more temperamental than I like. Enter Value Village, my new hot spot, once again. A week or so ago, Blanche II was there to be had for 26 dollars. For shame, I neither cleaned nor oiled the machine before I used it, but it sews something fierce. It didn't come with any attachments or feet, not even a zigzag foot (or a manual), but because it's in such good shape to be 30-years old I broke my declaration only to buy tricked-out machines and picked it up. So far, I'm in love, but Blanche II will have more company one of these days, I'm sure.

Mira, my non helper in the sewing room.

an open letter to snow

2009-12-05T10:07:00.001-08:00

Well played, Snow, my arch-nemesis, well played. You had them running for cover here in Houston yesterday, dismissing school, closing businesses early, preempting Oprah with endless talk of no one but you. You even fooled them into calling you a storm when you were really just a light dusting.

But when it was all said and done, I won this match, because I know you well. Yesterday I met you having journeyed through the Blizzard of '77 (and '78, and '79, and ...) in Toledo, and the Blizzard of '96 in New York City (and several more winters that were damn close to blizzardy). Zero Visibility is my middle name. I knew you were only teasing yesterday. You didn't frost me into a panic, oh no. Instead you made way for me to have a lovely, leisurely day, browsing an otherwise empty bookstore and noshing in a quiet restaurant where the service was excellent because I was one of only three patrons. And so I say to you, dear Snow, Thank you. This time, that is. If you keep coming to town, I'll go back to Southern California, where you won't find me, and if ever you do, there's always the blue skies of the Caribbean, from there, the Horn of Africa.

other than grannies (but grannies, too)

2009-11-25T07:30:00.000-08:00

I've been so obsessed with granny squares that I haven't talked about much else since I've been posting again. Welp, there's not too much going on, thankfully, and the biggest thing is the best -- my sisters live here in Houston now. Have I mentioned this? I don't think so, but in my granny square haze, everything is foggy. Anyway, they moved here in August, and for a while my youngest sister, her daughter, and one of my middle sister's sons lived with me. I love my family, but that was painful. Now they all live in a big house about 15 minutes from here, and that's where I'm going for Thanksgiving. I'm in charge of macaroni and cheese. This weekend my niece will be coming to spend the night. She's 10, and we have a ball together. I'm teaching her how to sew and knit, which I'll blog about later.

For now:

* More granny squares. I've made 80 so far. I figure another 40 should do it.

* A paint job. I got this set of metal drawers at the Rose Bowl swap meet a few years ago. I keep thread in it, separated by color. It's very handy, but I've always been iffy on the two-tone green. I love green, just not in this case. I thought silver and cream would be better.

* A great book that I'm reading and visually feeling up every chance I get.

Since I've been getting my place together, I've been taken in by the decor websites, and by books on decorating. This one is called Home: 50 Tastemakers Describe What It Is, Where It Is, What It Means. It's not what you'd call a decorating book, more like biographical snapshots of designers, decorators, and trend forecasters in their own words, accompanied by peeks inside their living spaces. There are some recognizable names, like Paul Smith, Eva Zeisel, and Jonathan Adler, whose space I love, especially his bedroom.

How can you beat a bust of MJ on the coffee table?

Here are some other favorites of mine (so far).

Don't get the impression that everything in the book has a vintage/'70s vibe. It's what appeals to me, but there's a wide range of decorating styles here, and many unexpected interpretations.

There are lots of other names that if I were more in the know I'm sure I'd recognize, but I don't. This in my favorite quote, from (heretofore unknown to me) Li Edelkoort:

I also believe that creativity is life's insurance, because if you instill creativity even in the smallest children, they will have no fear, because they can improvise. Creativity is not about a nice interior or a nice wardrobe, or a sense of design. It's about a very subtle way to think and to realize, if this doesn't work, then I can solve things in another way; confidence and flexibility.

With its gorgeous shots of beautiful spaces and fascinating personal narratives, I can't recommend Home enough. I mean, isn't the place featured on the cover delicious? It's not particularly my taste (if I have any), but it's fabulous. Sometimes I reach for Home and stop myself from picking it up. I don't want the experience to end too soon.

I think that's all I wanted to share with you. Oh, except this --Happy Thanksgiving!

stax

2009-11-19T13:35:00.001-08:00

this is not the way I planned things

2009-11-18T12:40:00.000-08:00

I was walking past my sofa, minding my own business, when I noticed that the granny squares have taken it over. I pictured myself inviting someone in to take a seat, then having to clear the squares out of the way. It'd be like "Monk," where I'd painstakingly and meticulously put the stacks together, counting them and trying to preserve the integrity of the colors. It'd be a sad sight to see.

I finished the pillow cover from last post.

This is what's underneath. I'm showing you in case you ever need to make the world's easiest pillowcase:

And so the pretty squares are for my afghan. I'm working them with all Lamb's Pride Worsted, and it's love, love, love. I was fortunate to purchase boucoup skeins for 2 bucks each at The Great Black Sheep Knittery Closing Sale of 2007. That sale is the reason I'm not independently wealthy today. I even bought Lamb's Pride colors I didn't love much, in anticipation of knitting an afghan, maybe modular style. It's turned into a granny afghan, thanks to my buddy Ellen's influence, and I couldn't be happier. I did supplement a few skeins. I wanted a redder red than what I had, and it's impossible to have too much Chocolate Souffle, so I ordered that and a couple other colors today. I so enjoy the process of making granny squares, but this time around I'm rushing to the finish because I can't wait to get them covering my bed. I'll probably never get up again.

Mira says afghan schmafghan. The squares are good to go as far as she's concerned.

Waiter, there's a cat in my yarn.

hook + cloth

2009-10-28T17:06:00.000-07:00

Hello, lovely Internet (and real life) friends. Thank you for the comments on my granny pillow. Here's the one I'm working on now.

One side is done, and I started the other side today. Crochet is fast; I guess it's all the holes. It's fast, and it's glorious. I'm using the basic granny square pattern at Purl Bee.

I have some wrist pain; so the type of crochet hook I use makes a difference. I'd been loving the Clover Soft Touch hooks, pricey though they are compared to the old-fashioned all-metal kind, but then I needed a size 7. I hopped around to Hobby Lobby and found a 7 in Susan Bates Bamboo Handle hooks. The next day I went back for an 8 and a 9 because I like the SB Bamboo Handle even more than I like the Clovers (and I've always preferred the throat on SB hooks). The handle is longer, giving my hand a resting place. They're more ergonomic. I don't grip as hard to hold on to the hook, which means I can crochet longer. The SB's are priced well, too. Check out these reviews.

In other making news this week, I did up some curtains. I'd been living with mini-blinds for nearly a year because I didn't want to spend the money on fabric, but the other day I couldn't take it anymore. I remembered some drop-cloth curtains I'd seen somewhere a while back, and decided that would be my most reasonable option.

I wanted tone and texture, and drop cloth delivers for less than 10 bucks a panel. They don't call it the poor man's linen for nothing. I washed the panels, hemmed them, and voila. I also spray painted the Ikea curtain rods because this particular rod only comes in black and gray.

Here are some nifty instructions for working with drop cloth. And look at some of the cool things you can make with it. The upholstered chairs are my favorite.

granny up

2009-10-22T15:06:00.000-07:00

October already? 2009 nearly gone? No way.

Before 2010 knocks on the door, I want to blow the cobwebs off this here blog. The weather in Houston can finally be described as something other than south hell, and the yarn, the fabric, the painting, the camera -- all the happy pursuits -- are calling, along with a new interest or two.

Dear Ellen wooed me into upping my crochet game. I have to make some version of the amazing white-bordered afghan you see in her post; so I buckled down and learned to make a decent granny square this week. I used this pattern, which is wonderful. I started by making a pillow cover for practice and quick satisfaction.

It took me many days to decide what colors to use. In the end I threw up my hands and made it reversible, because I couldn't decide whether I wanted a warm or a cool palette. Now I can flip the pillow at whim, which is nice.

Ellen has been right all these years: Granny squares are the building blocks of fashion. And they're an absolute blast to make. I'm going to do another pillow cover while I plan my afghan.

My couch is a place holder. I got it from a junkie in Montrose. I've considered what his drug of choice might be, and I decided it's crystal meth, because the guy was pretty scabalicious when I met him. The couch was dirt cheap, though, and it's not in bad shape for its age (probably it was made in the '60s). I've got it covered because I wanted a change of pace (it's green), and I usually have more pillows on it so it doesn't look like an amorphous brown ghost.

The painting behind the couch is the first one I did. I wanted an orange wall, but knew I'd never paint it because I'm way too lazy to paint it back when I move. My love of orange resulted in what I call "The Big Orange Machine." Schmin calls it "Saturn"; so technically it's "Saturn: The Big Orange Machine." (Please don't tell us we're not clever.) It's also an ode to Mark Rothko, my current favorite painter.

One of the many things I enjoy about living here is that this house isn't at all precious. There's no crown molding, no hardwood floors, no built-ins -- nothing that could be considered an architectural feature. Not that these things wouldn't be nice (especially the floors), but here I feel free to display the end results of my impetuous (read: half-baked) bouts of creativity.

fiyah!

2009-08-18T21:44:00.000-07:00

Behold the world's tiniest grill, on which we prepare to barbecue at midnight.

The things I let Schmin talk me into.

what i love

2009-08-14T20:34:00.000-07:00

My boy Schmin, first night in town, playing guitar on the porch. Add to that that I love having a porch. And a mean little cat watching us through the window.

ETA: And the 50 shrimp Schmin cooked for us to eat in celebration!

meeting up

2009-08-10T12:42:00.000-07:00

The surest way for me not to do something around here is to say I'm going to do it. I'm telling you, time moves so quickly. Now an LA wrap-up seems passe, but I will say it was a great, productive, tiring, and lovely trip, and that I'm looking forward to another visit over the next couple of months. It took a village (My sister Tish, Natalie, Alem, Schmin and his girlfriend, Mister Stevens phoning in the moral support) to get my stuff out of storage and ship it back here, but we did it. I am now officially in possession of more fabric and yarn than I know what to do with when all I want to do is paint. In LA I held a garage sale quickly turned giveaway where I sadly parted with Blanche. I wasn't willing to spend the money to ship a machine in a table, so I kissed her goodbye. I also kissed goodbye a lot of other stuff; still 40 boxes came my way when I got home.

Having things in storage in Los Angeles was keeping me stuck, in a way. Now that I've closed that chapter (thank God and my loved ones), I feel like it's time to get to living, as V would say. I don't know if anyone reading this is familiar with Meetup.com, but it's great here in Houston. Folks down here are very active. I've joined a couple of groups for women of color, a couple of writing groups, a group that frequents plays and performances, and a group called Houston Single Friends. Houston Single Friends (the name is kind of sweet and corny, isn't it?) has 3,000+ members, some combination of whom are busy doing something every night of the week. Saturday night I joined a gathering of women from the group for dinner and Julie & Julia (long, but enjoyable, especially Meryl Streep). I was the only colored girl interested in seeing it that night, lol, but it didn't matter. The "sisters" who attended were warm and engaging. I look forward to seeing them again. (I would join a knitting/crafty group, but after a couple bad spins with a group that meets at a particular yarn shop, I'm thinking I'll start my own.)

I'm surprised I dragged myself out on Saturday night, because on Saturday morning I'd gone with another group, for women of color over 30, on a hike. What's really cool is that groups have cross meetups, so there was a wonderful set of about 25 people on the hike. Here are some of us.

Courtesy of a Meetup member. Yes, it was hot, but no one died.

And cell phone shots of the gorgeous path we hiked.

After we hiked, we ate at a place called CoCo's, located in Midtown. They feature paninis and crepes and smoothies.... Relatively healthy deliciousness.

I met some truly nice people. From the moment we gathered, I felt at home. The thing about Meetup groups, and I'm sure this is the case all over, is that they attract people who genuinely enjoy company, are friendly, and want to have a good time. Plus they sure as hell beat sitting in your house waiting for life to come knocking on your door. :)

I'm going rock-climbing (so excited!) with Houston Single Friends and wine tasting with one of the women's groups later this month. And I met some women who want to get serious about biking, something I'm itching to do. As soon as I get a bike, they're ready.

In the meantime, Schmin is coming to visit on Friday, and I'm beside myself with glee.

doh!

2009-07-29T09:32:00.001-07:00

That last post, the Grace Jones video, was something I intended to send to Natalie from YouTube. I had no idea I'd posted it here! LOL. Since I did, might as well add that I saw Grace at The Hollywood Bowl on Sunday night, along with another band that I'd never heard of but really liked, Of Montreal (somebody posted a video, check 'em out), and the show was fantastic. Me and the Bubs went, and we both enjoyed it. The week before Natalie and Joe took me to see Porgy and Bess at The Bowl, and that was awesome too. I love The Hollywood Bowl. I'm happy I got the chance to go this summer.

I'm still recuperating from my trip. I got to do nearly everything and see nearly everyone I wanted to. I thought maybe I could sneak off to Stitch 'n Bitch, but that didn't happen because I couldn't get off work. (Miss you, Laurie Ann! I hope to gaze upon your loveliness next time.) When I'm not so tired that I'm accidentally posting YouTube videos meant for private consumption, I'll post a few pics and highlights from my visit.

I have to say now, though, congratulations, Dr. Woolanthropy! You did it!

grace jones in el sonar 2009

2009-07-27T17:52:00.001-07:00

Get your kitty cat mask and your band ready!

i love l.a.

2009-07-19T08:04:00.000-07:00

It's so easy to love what you miss, isn't it? I'm having a ball with Joe, Natalie, and their menagerie; Valecia; and that adorable Schmin. And today Ellen is having a birthday gathering. I timed my visit so that I could attend, and I can't wait to see my knitty girls!

Here are a couple of my favorite moments, out of many, from yesterday. I bought Schmin a typewriter to congratulate him on his success in college (he's going into his third term at LA City College, getting only A's and B's, and I'm so proud of him), and because I knew he'd appreciate it. I gave it to him along with his paintings, and he loved it. He's so cute. Look:

Then V took a turn on the turntable:

She typed and sang and typed and sang and produced two lines, after which she declared, That was exhausting! LOL. It's true that typing on a manual typewriter renders bicep curls unnecessary.

and you know you love your cat when ...

2009-07-18T09:55:00.000-07:00

you find yourself wishing you could give her a call while you're away.

gone back to cali 2

2009-07-18T09:46:00.000-07:00

Blogging from my cell means a word limit per post. Anyhow, I'm excited about seeing my friends and family, and the good time we're sure to have. I'll share, and in the meantime I'm unleashing a wave of gratitude to you guys for the sweet, supportive comments on "Celebrant." Mister Stevens, I'm glad my paintings rub your eyeballs the right way.

gone back to cali

2009-07-18T09:39:00.000-07:00

Hey, y'all. I'm at the San Francisco airport waiting for my connection to Los Angeles (well, Burbank, but close enough). I'm ridiculously happy to be here as it's my first time back in California since I moved. I'd be lying if I said I don't miss it. The lack of mysterious bugs and invasive lizards alone is enough to make me kiss the ground.

celebrant

2009-07-13T07:06:00.000-07:00

I'm very grateful to everyone who left a comment, or thought a good thought, for my dad. All the well-wishes worked; he's expected to make a full recovery. He can get back to being his normal crazy self very soon.

One of my students e-mailed me to discuss an assignment, and I mentioned my father's surgery to her. She wrote back and told me about her mother's upcoming hip replacement surgery, and said, It's really hard to see your parents vulnerable, isn't it? She hit that one right on the head.

In the midst of my father's healing came my mother's birthday, yesterday. My mother has been dead for 10 years this year. She would've been 59. Ten years, which I didn't think I'd survive without her, a landmark. I wanted to do something to celebrate her life, something that would go well with wine. I believe the best gift I can give my mother is to fully live my life (though I felt the opposite at first). I set out to live it and not be sad because I didn't feel sad. I felt grateful. So I worked a good while, then instead of melting into the sofa under the rays of the television, I got out my painting supplies and made this little trio of 8x10s for Schmin.

You didn't know I had these kinds of painting supplies. ;) With Hobby Lobby two minutes away I can dust off my old artistic visions and get busy. I hadn't painted much, and not in years, but after scouring thrift stores and Craigslist to find original art to gussy up my walls, and knowing exactly what I wanted but not coming close, I decided to realize a dream and do it myself. I'm no Ellen Bloom. I don't remotely profess to be skilled or good, but luckily I love abstract art, and am a fool for abstract expressionism, and I don't have qualms about slapping some paint around wherever I see fit and calling it a done deal. In fact, my only rule for my paintings is that I have to display them, or give them to someone else who will. Art supplies ain't cheap (I stick with acrylics and don't even let my eyes wander over to the oil paints, oy). With work last quarter I didn't have time to sew, or much patience to knit, but painting can be instant gratification of the creative impulse. And, you can do it 'til you're satisfied. Don't like something? Paint the hell over it.

Coming soon I'll post the other pieces I've painted, though I think the ones I did yesterday are the best (with the exception of one previous piece, which I'll show you). I'm learning better how to manipulate the paint and make it do what I see in my head. I'm also getting better at stealing -- um, using other people's work as inspiration. Schmin has been very supportive. Even though he named the paintings I hung in my kitchen Gay Pride Camouflage, he said the colors I used in them are very nice. No telling what he'll call his triptych.

I hadn't partied hard enough with Schmin's paintings, so I did one to go in my bedroom. When I sprayed it with varnish this morning, the colors struck me as perfectly 1950s, and it reminded me of my mother, who was born in 1950. Everybody called my mother Day, short for Dayletha, so I gave it a title playing on her name, Break of Day 1950. It's no Gay Pride Camouflage, but I love it. Happy birthday again, dear Day Day.

As a gift to anyone who likes abstract art, here's a version of Break of Day that you can use as a screensaver.

send a little light

2009-07-10T07:41:00.000-07:00

Today my father is going in for lung surgery. There's a spot, it may be cancerous, and his doctor wants to remove it. The procedure will take about five hours. I can't be there at the hospital in Toledo with my family, but I'm sending my dad prayers and lots of love. He's scared; we're all scared, but I believe things unfold for the best.

If you have a spare moment today, please send a little light out to my father. We would both appreciate it so much.

a swan, maybe

2009-07-09T13:29:00.000-07:00

Thank you kindly, friends, for loving my side-table/nightstand/dealy-do makeover. It's back to pulling heavy duty next to my desk, and I rape it with my eyes every chance I get. It's really brightened up the space it occupies. I have to do a couple of finishing touches on the area, then I'll show it to you in context.

In the meantime, I'm back to work, which is actually a relief because it means I don't have time to find anything else to paint or spruce up, thank goodness. Not that I have room or need for anything else anyway. Well, rugs, curtains ... a few small things.

The last bit of making I'll be doing this go-round is some pillow covers for my Craigslist couch. It could use some window dressing. I'll be getting to those soon.

Remember the ugly stand? Here it is. (Sorry the images are soft and dark-ish. Plenty of light outside, but not enough inside for the old Canon.)

I'm probably going to use it for booze. It turned out fine, but I have to recommend Valspar spray paint over Rustoleum, which I used. After days, it's still not really dry, and every thing I set on the stand leaves an imprint. Also, when I run my hands over it, the paint rubs off. It's not a big deal in this case, but if you're going to use a metallic spray paint on something you're particular about, I'd go with Valspar. I've used it a few times, and never had a problem with it.

I also wanted to show you my dining set, because I'm smitten. It's all vintage, 60s, I'd imagine. I bartered for the chairs, which is such a fun, cost-effective thing to do. I found the table at a consignment store, and it fits the space, the relatively small space, to a tee. I have to credit my dad with its placement. I was planning to smoosh a table against the wall, but he said it belonged in the center, under the ceiling fan. He was so right.

Once more with kitty cat.

coup de grace

2009-07-03T15:00:00.001-07:00

It's a good thing I'm so skilled at freehand painting circles. Just kidding. But I do know how to glue stuff. The Mod Podge is barely dry on this, but I'm so happy with it that I couldn't wait to post it. I fell for this little mid-century side table thingy the moment I saw it at The Guild. Y'all know I love a good price, and it was only 20 dollars. It came with a bonus of some taffy-like candy stuck in the top drawer. Mm-mm.

I knew I wanted to do something fun with it. Who couldn't use a bit of cheer in her work area? I contemplated painting it orange (of course), a retro green, then a Tiffany-esque blue. I was thinking about stenciling it. Then I started wondering about wallpaper. That's where I was when I came across this post via Design Sponge, I believe. (Isn't her train case terrific?) The moment I read that she used wrapping paper, that was it. I have several good ones that I picked up for a song at Pulp in LA last year. The one used here is my favorite, and every time I thought about wrapping gifts in it, I cringed. I wanted to use it for something I could enjoy, and voila! Sadly, I have no more, because I had to redo two of the three drawers. Someday I'll learn the beauty of models, drafts, maquettes, mock-ups, muslins, blueprints, practice, trial runs .... I swear. I was way too Mod Podge happy the first couple of tries. Anyhow, I love it, even with the shady paint job, which the wrapping paper so nicely draws the eye away from.

table this

2009-07-03T09:31:00.000-07:00

Please nobody hand me a paint brush and furniture ever again. Give me a spray can, and I'm good. A brush, not so much. Just now as I was putting the finishing touches on one piece of furniture (read: trying to paint over mistakes), I realized the problem all along has been that I use way too much paint. A discovery that would've come in handy like, yesterday. Oh well. I've got something really cute in mind for the piece that I've jacked up the most. Something that will distract from the paint job, thank goodness.

In the meantime, to boost my morale, I'm posting these tables, which I spray painted, and am very happy with. They cost 10 dollars each, at Goodwill. I didn't mind them dark at all, but they didn't suit my, um, let's call it decor.

About 4 cans of Valspar's Almond color and now, they're oh so right.

Welp. Back to work. Have a great 4th, everybody! Eat a piece of barbecued chicken for me.

weekday warrior

2009-07-02T17:46:00.001-07:00

Projects I've been meaning to get to for the longest, day 2.

And what have I learned, lo these two days?

1) In the end, it's the mosquitoes who will rule this joint.
2) Painting furniture is not the walk in the park I remember. Especially not in the fiery furnace of a Texas summer.
3) A tack cloth is tacky. Not in the sense that it has bad taste, but in the way of being very, very sticky. Might I suggest gloves if you ever handle one?

Here's the ugliest thing I've ever bought:

It's like somebody gave it to his kid to puke on. It startled me when I saw it at Goodwill, then I saw the price, 8 bucks, and thought, hmm .... It's got a top tray, which I didn't photograph. It's my last painting project. I've sanded it, and will finish it tomorrow.

I started painting at 6:30 this morning to beat the heat (big fat ha). I opened my back door to this:

And a wave of humidity.

I've (only) been to Lowe's 3 times since yesterday, and Hobby Lobby once. I think I'm geared up for a big finish.

i is free!

2009-06-30T13:18:00.000-07:00

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

2009-06-26T05:08:00.001-07:00

don't you know baby yeah yeah

2009-06-25T19:04:00.001-07:00

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

orange crushin'

2009-04-19T20:32:00.001-07:00

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

2009-04-12T09:40:00.000-07:00

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

2009-04-10T16:33:00.001-07:00

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

2009-02-17T06:24:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-08T15:00:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-06T06:00:00.000-08:00

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'

2009-02-05T13:38:00.001-08:00

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

2009-02-04T16:11:00.000-08:00

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

2009-01-30T19:51:00.000-08:00

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.

her milkshake brings all the boys to the yard

2009-01-26T09:03:00.000-08:00

A few mornings ago I got up in the wee, wee hours, and when I raised the blinds I saw a cat sitting out in my yard. I'd seen this cat before, scurrying off when I pull up some nights. I watched him for a moment, and it wasn't long before a friend of his came along. The friend was more bold, sitting right up on my porch and beating me in a staring contest.

I'd like to think I intrigued the pair, but I know where their interest really lies.

little big

2009-01-24T21:45:00.000-08:00

It really is the simple things. You're looking at the most wonderful set of mismatched appliances ever to grace a garage.

Yesterday I bought the washing machine. The dryer was already here; I checked it over while Natalie was in town (I'd barely been seen in the garage before that). The on knob is cracked, so you have to turn it with pliers, but it heats up and works just fine. (Thanks for showing me how to wield them pliers, Natalie, smooch smooch.)

It hardly seemed right to have a fine working drying machine sitting idle, but I resigned myself to doing the laundromat thing for a month or two. Then I had all these dirty clothes. And I couldn't bring myself to pack them in the car. Instead I went in search of. Budget constraints dictated a used washer, but this was one of those rare times when I didn't want something from a private Craig's List seller. I didn't want to haul home somebody's sworn-to-work machine only to have it clunk on me next week. Online I found a place called Justified Appliance, and they sell refurbished machines. (They really refurbish them, too. I saw the "laboratory" while I was there. Surely they must do their personal laundry, you know, to test their work.) The great thing about Justified is that they include a 3-year warranty on everything they sell, parts, labor and all. For 155 + 45 for delivery, I got an older Kenmore that's clean as a whistle, and no worries if it breaks down.

Why am I telling you all this? Because it's been many, many years since I've had my own washer and dryer. I think the last and only time, Schmin was 5 years old. It was such brief period that I'd all but forgotten about it. Today I was thinking I'd never had my own, then I remembered washing in my kitchen, so many years ago.

Such a small thing, washing at home, but it's one of the reasons I left Los Angeles. When you're going along, living the apartment life in the Big City, you fly through the days not paying much attention to prickly matters like having to rush to grab your things out of the community dryer, before someone else does. And that's if you're lucky enough to have a community dryer, rather than going to the laundromat. You can't afford to make too much of inconvenience, and when it began to define my experience, I knew it was time to seek another way of living. I wouldn't trade my time in New York or LA for all the washers in the world, but I wouldn't trade my washer to live exclusively in either one again (and especially not my parking space).

Sometimes these normal things amaze me. They leave me endlessly grateful, and slightly disbelieving. I swear I've got a roll of quarters handy, in case I walk out to the garage and find my machines suddenly require them, like almost all the other machines I've known. Maybe there'll be some strange person there, too, waiting for me to get my clothes out of the washer, so she can have a turn.

just around the corner

2009-01-21T10:00:00.000-08:00

A couple of days ago I HAD to sew. It was MLK Day, and I like to celebrate it by giving thanks that I'm not a slave or a sharecropper or cleaning anybody's toilet. We've come a long way, baby. How better to express that than by symbolically drinking from any water fountain I want? In other words, by making something pretty, just because people have fought and died for me to have the time and the means to do so.

With the history of my people behind me, I readied a project. You probably already know an act this epic might be doomed.

Down here in Houston, I've got two sewing machines. The now named Mrs. Eaton (after my paternal grandmother), which is the one I got in Bakersfield, and my first one, the late-model Brother. I always want to sew vintage, so I got out Mrs. Eaton, plugged in the foot pedal, and prepared to fire her up, only to find I didn't have a power cord. I looked hither and yon, but I couldn't recall what I'd done with it. I had my heart set on using that machine, so I looked up Singer shops and found there's one in Meyerland, 5 minutes from where I live. I couldn't believe my great good fortune. I hopped in the car, drove around there, and yes, they did carry the cord. I squealed with joy, until the saleswoman told me the price -- $35. My heart wasn't that set. I'd seen the same cords online for 12 bucks, including postage. I mentioned this, and the woman snatched the cord back and told me I'd best go order one. We can't even get them that cheap wholesale, she said. My ass, I thought. Probably she didn't figure I'd done my homework. I let it slide, thanking her kindly and looking around the store for a few minutes. Even though she'd tried to commit robbery, I didn't want to offend her sensibilities.

Why? Because the place is vintage machine heaven. Stepping inside is a trip back in time. The outside is pure strip mall, but the inside is a bygone era. You walk in expecting all these new plastique machines, but you're greeted with a herd of sturdy throwbacks. I can't get myself banned from a place like that. I'm thinking of going back tomorrow, just to oogle the machines and dig for treasure. I don't think I'd seen that many vintage sewing machines in good condition in one place.

Though shifty character the proprietress may be, she was generous with the photo policy.

Prices on the machines indicate that they've been well-serviced -- I saw nothing for less than $199 -- but for a person in the market for a vintage machine she won't have to work on, the investment could be worth it.

A Singer wonderland, just around the corner.

After petting and picture taking, I came home and decided to go ahead and use the Brother, but guess what, I couldn't find the cord to that machine either. I gave in and ordered a cord for Mrs. Eaton online. It came to $11.20. Right after, I got to thinking: Is it really like me to leave behind cords for the only two machines I brought with me? Even during a move? Oh no. No. I racked my brain, and thought of one more place to look, and when I went there, voila! I cancelled my Internet order, plugged in Mrs. Eaton, and went to town. Later I found a cord for the Brother, too.

So the venture wasn't exactly doomed, but it appeared mighty unlikely for a while. I lost precious daylight sewing time, but the night, oh the night, it was grand.

in the sheep again

2009-01-20T12:38:00.000-08:00

Well, hello!

Happy New President Day! Exciting, yes? That's all I can say about it. I think a lot of us are kind of shocked into quiet wonder. (Second only to President Obama's inauguration speech was watching the Bushes get out of Dodge. Wee!)

I've been a lazy blogger, but I've missed you guys. I have a couple more posts in the can and will put them up soon. In the meantime, I'd like to fill up the space with a thank you for dropping by, and for allowing me to be a presence in your life over the past year. I really appreciate sharing this space with you. :)

Okay. Projects. Of the knitting variety. I believe I've caught the bug again, which is great. If you knit, you've likely seen this scarf more times than you'd care to count, lol. It's the Noro Striped Scarf, catapulted into the stratosphere of popularity by Brooklyn Tweed. It's a fun, easy knit. -- Wait, it's the presidential limousine! Wow. This is so CRAZY! What a day. -- Where was I? Oh yeah. It's fun, and mine was pretty cheap. (Otherwise I probably wouldn't have made it.) I got four of my five skeins of Noro Kureyon from the legendary Black Sheep sale, for 75% off. While Natalie was here at the beginning of the month (more on that later), I bought another skein at Yarns 2 Ewe. It was full priced but I couldn't resist the colorway. I had yarn left over from the scarf and there's nothing else I would do with it, so I made a hat.

The set is for Bubs, who doesn't complain about wearing wool. When I blocked the scarf, I added a little hair conditioner in a softening attempt. People who swear by this are right, the conditioner made a significant difference. I didn't block the hat. I'll tell Bubs to grow some hair and be sure to condition it when he puts it on.

I don't work alone anymore. Mira is my assistant stylist, as well as my model.

Most of the time, though, she's just Mira the Menace.

Project Notes
Scarf pattern: Noro Striped Scarf. Good times. Measurements: 6" x 85"
Hat pattern: Basic Hat. A good go-to pattern for a frill-free chapeaux.
Yarn: Noro Kureyon. The two colorways I used most, 51 and 147, I bought because of the sale (236 was the later, Yarns 2 Ewe skein). If not, I would've picked warmer colorways, and maybe more contrast (read: there'd be orange, lots of orange). Still, I like the way the scarf came together.
Pleasure principle: Janet Jackson would give it a thumbs up, or a boob out. One of the two.

over easy

2009-01-10T15:39:00.000-08:00

Just a little something, between visitors, to get me back into the knitting groove.

for heather, with her cuppa

2009-01-05T21:11:00.000-08:00

LOL!

Hey now. Not gonna abandon this spot. I'm actually busy workin' for The Man. Last quarter I had the great good fortune to only have two classes to teach. This quarter The Man wants his pound o' flesh! It'll take me a week or two to get everything set up so I can keep the students happy (if the students ain't happy, nobody's happy), but I'll be dropping in in the meantime. My schedule is pretty scattered, though ideal for getting in some writing time. But now that I'm in a position to write something, I haven't decided where to start. I never go wrong with you guys (except maybe with whoever told me to think of lizards as warm and fuzzy, ha!), so WWYD? Here are my choices:

finish draft of old play that's very close to being done (good for instant sense of accomplishment)
start novel I've been threatening to work on since Cain and Abel walked the earth
re-enter last polish of first play into my computer (I lost it in a crash). This isn't really writing, more like just typing, but I do need an e version to enter into contests
start new screenplay (I've got a couple of unsaleable but interesting ideas, as usual)
write new play about a real-life character I researched a long, long time ago, and for which I already have a fantastic title, Fontanelle. (Isn't that the best word?)

Oh, nevermind. Icksnay on the advicekay. I'm going to start with the old nearly-done play. I need to feel like I've done something, STAT.

Anyway. Blah blah. It's a New Year (caps for freshness), which is nice. I want to do a wrap up of last year, but for some reason it makes me teary, even though things progressed. Plus, I still owe some prizes! I haven't forgotten (Heather and Ally B), and they top my sewing list.

Alright, I've babbled long enough. Gotta go to bed. Tomorrow The Natster is coming to visit! (Now I really wish I had a sofa.)

3 ... 2 ... 1

2008-12-31T20:27:00.000-08:00

*hA*Pp*y N*Ew ye*A*r!*

food + work + feline

2008-12-30T21:53:00.000-08:00

You all really did tickle (and inform) me on the lizard post. I'm thinking of a plan of action.

I am so happy because tomorrow is the last day of 2008, which means my last day to post for the blogging 365 project. Yay! It's been a lot of fun, but it's also had its downside, like not having space to write the kind of ponderous essays I like to post sometimes. Also, not being able to respond personally to comments like I was doing earlier in the year. I haven't had the time to post every day and write and respond the way I want to. To top it off, now that I make my living on the Internet, I try to cut back on extracurricular activities so I'm not online all day every day. And, man, I can talk about a whole lotta me, but some days I've felt like enough already.

I am looking forward to not posting every day, but that doesn't mean I won't be posting often. I will, and hopefully I'll raise the bar. At least a little.

And now, speaking of me (har har), here's my turkey chili with a cat walking past.

At first I declared it the worst chili I've ever made, and it was, but I've doctored it to the the point of very tasty. (It needed sugar and more seasoning.) I like my chili with a couple cubes of cheddar cheese (down under) and a dollop of sour cream. Maybe some scallions, which I have, but was too hungry to chop. Oyster crackers are good, too. So's a Reed's Extra Ginger Brew chaser.

If you prefer, with cat butt.

This was today's meal while I was doing my final grades for the quarter (the chili and ginger beer, not the cat butt). It used to be a pretty straightforward process, but Mira makes it -- and everything else -- interesting. She loves red pencils more than any teacher I know.

there's nothing like...

2008-12-29T23:59:00.000-08:00

seeing a lizard to make you pick up after yourself to eliminate secret hiding places.

lol

2008-12-28T11:29:00.000-08:00

You guys crack me up.

freak-out in texas

2008-12-27T12:39:00.000-08:00

Oh. My. God.

I know it's the South. I know it's got its share of "wildlife" due to its sub-tropical climate. I know there are flying roaches. I know the mosquitoes suck blood all year 'round. But nobody said anything about the lizards. LIZARDS!

Christalmighty.

I never even knew I was afraid of the things until I moved here. Today marked the second time I was inside the house minding my own business when I spotted one. The first time I was at S's place in the Heights. (So notice we're talking two different houses.) I'd been there maybe a few weeks. I glanced up at the wall, and there it was, still as night, near the ceiling. I called Schmin, screaming, and he said I had no choice but to trap it and throw it outside. I couldn't do it, and by the time I got back into the room from cowering in the kitchen, it was gone. The last time I saw it, it was hanging out behind Mira's litter box. I did not want that cat to catch it, because it would've been carnage. Luckily, S's boyfriend was over, and she had him get it. He's from the country, she said. He can handle these things. He did. Just picked the thing up barehanded and took it outside. I told S she should marry that guy, ASAP.

These lizards are small, like 3 inches plus that scary little sharp pointy tail, specifically designed to poke out your corneas. I can confirm this because when I went to raise the blinds on one of the windows in the living room this morning, there was this:

I hollered like a beeatch, ripped down the blinds with the flailing of my arms, called Bubs, couldn't get him, then called Schmin, who told me I'm going to have to find a way to make peace with the lizards instead of waking him up crying and screaming at 8am Pacific time. I made him stay on the phone while I tried to sweep the thing out the window. It was an experience worse than childbirth. The lizard kept hopping all around the panes, sticking to them, jumping on the broom and back on the panes. I thought I'd finally gotten it out, then I saw that it had fallen inside a box that was sitting under the window. I closed it, ran outside, and dumped its contents on the lawn, where they remain, even though it's raining cats and dogs.

Speaking of cats, Mira hid under the bed when I started screaming, so she was no help. This time I was hoping she'd come out and eat the thing, as long as I wouldn't have to watch.

Once I calmed down, I tried to follow Schmin's advice and make friends with nature.

Just as I'd worked up the courage to get my stuff off the lawn, I noticed this:

Yep. Another one. Peeking out from the slats.

This is as close as I've come to moving back to Los Angeles. Like I told Schmin, I'm way too citified for this. I wish I was more like my maternal grandmother, who raised me. Once, when I was about 11, I was in the bathroom at our apartment when I saw a mouse. I had a conniption, yelling, Big Mama! Big Mama! Help me! She ran in, saying, Girl, what's the matter? I said It's a mouse! It's right over there! She looked at it, scoffed, and said, Aw, chile, that ain't nothing. Then she proceeded to corner the mouse behind the bathroom door and whack it to death with her slipper. I was like, Are you serious?! She'd been raised on a farm; she was fearless with critters.

Dear God I just don't have that in me, and it looks like I'm really going to need it.

holly jolly

2008-12-26T11:59:00.000-08:00

I hope you had a wonderful Christmas day.

Mine was great. Very productive. I finally made that pot of turkey chili, I colored my hair (as you could see from yesterday's greeting), and I joined my friend Anthony's family for dinner. His family is from Cleveland, and very much like my Toledo family. We all have big, informal holiday gatherings. There's no official sitting around a table; it's grab a plate, sit at the kitchen table, perch around the TV, gather in the dining room with the kids.... People casually arrive during a loose span of time and leave when it's time to go visit other folks. Just like I would've done at home if I needed to, I took my laundry along. (Couldn't pass up an opportunity to multi-task, and thankfully now I can pass up a laundromat.)

By the time I arrived, most people had eaten. One of the women Anthony is dating was there, and while I was eating and shooting the breeze with his family they left to visit her mom. Anthony's mom is a huge Cavalier's fan, and I settled in to watch them them play the Wizards with her and a few others. What that means is I did my laundry and started a knitting project and tried not to talk over the game too much.

Anthony and his girlfriend, whom I liked very much, got back while I was drying my last load. By then his parents had gone to bed, so the three of us talked for a while. Because the discussion centered on things like being an introvert versus an extrovert and how it plays out in relationships, Anthony said we were having a women's conversation, and he asked us if we didn't want to talk about something more aggressive. He's so funny. After he went to bed, his girlfriend and I played Urban Myth with her kids until we got too sleepy, then she helped me load my laundry into my car and I drove home. I got here at about 3am.

That was my holiday, mixed in with phone calls to relatives and much holiday smooching on Mira, who treated the day as if it was any other.

merry chistmas!

2008-12-25T13:04:00.001-08:00

I hope you, too, are keeping away the gray and having a very glamorous holiday!

coming together

2008-12-24T15:03:00.001-08:00

Here's my setup so far.

Notice a sewing machine has already crept into the picture. My favorite thing is the teal Steelcase file cabinet. Those people know they can make some sturdy, timeless office furniture. I got it for 50 dollars. Had it been beige or black, Thomas said it would've been at least 90. Not everybody wants a teal cabinet. To me, the color made it worth the price. It's on casters, and, Heather, to answer your question, it was harder for me to carry inside than the table was. It's really heavy. I couldn't wait to set it down and roll it. I thought I was going to end up like Wyclef, singing Someone please call 911. Thankfully, it's about five steps from my driveway to my house. The table was awkward, but lighter. I think I got the legs on pretty securely. If not, when Bubs comes to visit for New Year's, I'll get him to throw some muscle at it. (Oh, and NO! I do not miss that Volvo, lol! True, it had more room, but guess where it is right now: dead as usual, camped in one of the few non-restricted parking spots in my old LA neighborhood. That car never did take me seriously.)

The chair is very cozy, as Mira can vouch. I spruced it courtesy of Ross, but it's in really good shape for something made in 1977, as its tag says. It sits a bit low, but as a freebie, I'm not complaining. It'll do until I get another.

The light isn't good so it's hard to see, but next to the machine is a sweet pincushion Natalie made for me to celebrate my move to Houston. I just love it. And the lovely flowers are a gift from my friend Deatra. While I was out lollygagging around with the table and things in my car last night, I thought it would be nice to have flowers once everything was up. When I pulled up in front of my house I noticed a box on the porch. Flowers! A perfect housewarming gift right on time. Thank you, Mo. They're beautiful.

a warm tale, complete with shopping

2008-12-23T18:45:00.000-08:00

So I spend more on groceries because there's no Trader Joe's and Whole Foods gets my dollars exclusively. So the oil refineries and drainage trenches sometimes kick up a powerful smell. So I saw a man trading a horse on the way to get my eyebrows waxed the other day (and the time before that, a yard full of cows).

Nothing can take away from the fact that this Houston place is great. It really is. They say it's the people. I agree.

Forget designing on a dime. I'm designing on eight cents. Furniture-wise, I need almost everything. It'll be a couple more months before I have the grandeur of a sofa, but the budget does allow for less expensive things, like a desk. Today I went in search of. I started in the place where I always start, Craig's List. Let me tell you, I owe that website my life. It's where I found my job, a good friend, all kinds of furniture over the years, the house I live in.... Craig Newmark, I bless your eyes.

Last night I found listings by a place called OMI Plus. OMI stands for Office Makers Incorporated, which is exactly right, because I needed to make me an office. Post haste. Teaching and editing and writing on the floor? Not so much. There are things you can do forever when you're 20, but forever ends, halted by back pain, when you're over 40. So I went out to OMI with the goal of getting off the floor. I had $150 that said Make my day.

OMI is family owned and operated, and carries both new and used office furniture. Based on their website, which I visited after seeing their CL listings, they seemed to have a good selection of used stuff, especially chairs, and I thought it'd be worth the trip even if all I found was a chair. Plus, I'd seen this on the site:

Oh mama. You know I wanted this orange delight.

At first they thought it was at their storage facility, then they realized it was long gone. I didn't cry too hard, because Sharon, the manager lady, had already told me she'd sell me another chair that I liked (not as much, but a lot) for 20 bucks.

The search for a desk was harder. OMI mostly serves corporate/professional clients, so even their prices on used desks were out of my range. That, or out of my taste since I don't necessarily want my living room looking like an insurance company. And, how I thought this was possible I don't know, I wanted to buy something that would fit in my car. Along with the chair. And possibly a file cabinet. My car is a car. Not a truck or an SUV, but rather, a Camry. After a while I came across a table. It had a drawer, making it enough like a desk. It measured 60x24, so I figured I might have a shot at getting it home. It was marked 119, but Sharon said it could be mine for 99. And get this, she would throw in the 20 dollar chair for free. I told her the only caveat was the table had to go in my car somehow, some way.

One of the warehouse guys, a baby-faced Latino who is training to be a firefighter (I know because we spent lots of time together), said he thought he could get it in. He joined with another guy, and the two quickly found that the back seat of a Camry is no place for a table. When it wouldn't fit, the future fireman thought he could put it in this little old truck that was parked next to my car, follow me home and drop it off for me, free of charge. But the owner, Thomas, came out and said the truck was too much of a beater to be trusted in rush-hour traffic. He said it was an unserviced 1971 something or other, and that he'd only bought it to paint the company's name on it and keep it parked out front for advertising. If I'd lived close to OMI, or if it'd been earlier in the day, he would've taken a chance. The guys took the table back inside. Then I got the idea to open my trunk and let the back seat down. I asked Thomas what he thought. He said it could work if they could get the legs off the table.

Now, already you can see why I say the people here are so nice. Compared to what their typical customer spends, I was spending peanuts, but these folks went out of their way to accommodate me. It took three drills and 45 minutes for the firefighter to get the legs off my table. Then another fifteen to get it situated in my car. By then I'd bartered in a file cabinet for another 50 bucks (and a little metal tabletop book stand as a freebie). All of it had to be secured in my car, which Thomas and the firefighter did.

When I thanked them I told them I didn't know where else I'd be given such thoughtful customer service, especially without dropping serious bank. Thomas just said it was no problem; it was a slow day anyway. I offered to tip the firefighter, but he turned me down, saying, I just did it out of kindness.

don't even try it

2008-12-22T19:06:00.000-08:00

Here's to all of us who can't knock the hustle, lol. In 2009, may the sweat of our brow bring us big dividends!

Though I did go to Ross to buy more floor pillows on Friday morning, I can report that I did not allow myself to be thrown off the hustle by these places, which I found lurking next to one of the Ross Stores, 10 minutes from my house. (They complement the Hobby Lobby around the corner, 2 minutes away.)

I'm getting that crafty feeling again, but I'm going to forget these places exist, open the closet with all my goods in it, and go shopping in there!

rupaul's got nothing on me

2008-12-21T19:48:00.000-08:00

Mission accomplished. I finished with the manuscript I was hired to edit, and I've collected my pay.

I'm dubbing 2009 The Year of the Hustle, because I'll be putting in WORK. I've heard about this thing called savings, and I aim to get me some.

Alright now. Journey's on the iPod singing "Be Good to Yourself." I think I'll do just that, with a glass of wine and dinner, before heading off to bed.

oh what i won't do...

2008-12-20T21:56:00.001-08:00

to earn a buck.

pretty bird

2008-12-19T07:15:00.001-08:00

You know, I only found one pillow that I liked last night. There are two more Ross stores, each less than ten minutes away. Maybe I should take an editing break and go see if one of them has the mate to this pillow. Then, I'm kinda hungry, so...

procrastination station

2008-12-18T23:37:00.000-08:00

Why is it that whenever there is serious work to be done everything else seems so fascinating?

I'm working on my editing project, dreaming of the payment that will hit my PayPal account as soon as I'm done, but every chance I get I'm wandering off to do other stuff. At 9:30pm I went to Ross. My back was hurting from lying on the floor to work, so I figured I'd grab a floor pillow or two. I found a pillow, and a dress, which took me until 10:45 (gotta dig those holiday hours), at which time I moseyed over to Kroger's to buy snacks, because what is editing a manuscript without snacks, I ask you? I also bought holiday cards and an O Magazine. This month Oprah questions how she let herself get fat again. Have we not asked ourselves this same question? Hopefully Oprah's answers will be our answers too. That way we can consider the matter closed without having to think too much.

Aside from the shopping, I've eagerly exchanged e-mails with my boss (I'm never eager for work communiques, so that should tell you something), done the dishes, harassed Mira, and just as I was about to enthusiastically clean her litter box, been granted something adorable to look at in Natalie's latest project. Now here I am writing a longer post than I intended.

I'd better get back to work.

just orange

2008-12-17T15:10:00.001-08:00

I always admire when people post color studies. What presence it must take to notice bits and snippets and flourishes of a certain color as one goes about one's day.

Color studies strike me as best done with the deep, rich vibe of either film or digital SLR, but I set that aside to do my own humble offering of orange, inspired by this, which caught my eye today:

I would love to own this car. How could the day not be filled with sunshine when you're driving around in a bucket of orange? It looks mercifully placed in a sea of bland. Doesn't it?

Later, while standing in my kitchen, I found some of my own orange.

jive turkey

2008-12-16T23:59:00.000-08:00

I don't know what happened.

It's cool here in Houston -- 30s - 40s -- and I woke up thinking on thing: turkey chili. I always make it at the first sign of cold. I'm behind this year. Today was the day I could no longer resist.

But I had no turkey, no kidney beans, no tomato paste, nothing. And so I worked. Then went to the post office to drop off students' tests. Then I headed to Whole Foods where the day began to spiral.

After an hour in Whole Foods I realized I had no can opener to open the freshly purchased kidney beans, and no pot to cook them or anything else in. (I've been buying as little cookware as possible seeing I have a whole storage room full of it in Los Angeles.) These realizations led to Ross, where a person can either have a normal shopping experience or a very ghetto one. Today was ghetto day with checkout lines a country mile and most of the things I wound up buying being picked off the floor. Okay, not the floor, but close enough.

The long wait at checkout left me with plenty of time to think. I started fantasizing about a trash can and a rug for my kitchen. Bed, Bath and Beyond, Marshalls, and Target all a stone's throw from Ross and an ocean's distance away from home.

By the time I finished navigating the choppy holiday retail waters, I had lost the day indeed.

a knock in the nick

2008-12-15T17:03:00.000-08:00

It's grading time. And I have the good fortune to have a manuscript to edit, which will lead to a nice chunk of change once I'm done. All this means solitary work, which is my kind of work, except when it's not.

Right when I needed some cheer today I heard a knock at my door. Who could that be? I wondered. Nobody even knows I live here.

Alas, it was the express delivery man with a big ol' sweet box of fabric, courtesy of Ellen and Natalie! Ellen's neighbor gets gorgeous samples through her job, and had been having trouble getting rid of them.... I'll let Ellen tell the story. Point is, Ellen thought of me and had Natalie set aside some things she knew I would like. I love every single stitch of every single fabric. We're talking lovely, lovely stuff.

See?

It's been a bit of a distraction. I keep petting it, and wishing I had a table- or desk-like surface to set up a sewing machine. (Gotta remedy that this weekend.) I'm going to make pillows out of some of it, and a totebag or two out of more.

Thank you, girls! So glad y'all haven't forgotten about lil' ol' me.

odetta

2008-12-14T21:53:00.000-08:00

I've been meaning to post about the passing of the great folk and civil rights singer Odetta since it happened earlier this month. Remember I posted about her a while back? I wish I had taken the time to get to know her sooner. I would've made an effort to see her in concert.

Here's a link to a wonderful New York Times article (registration may be required). It includes a nicely done video interview. I love the part where she explains why work songs are songs of freedom, rather than solely the vocalization of slavery.

Her own work done, may Odetta rest in peace.

un-mundane

2008-12-13T20:16:00.000-08:00

Thanks for sharing my kitchen and my cooking these last couple of days. You guys make the ordinary an adventure. :)

first meal

2008-12-12T20:12:00.001-08:00

A little too much Shiraz. You know. A little too much is when you end up with heavy eyelids, lying in bed fully clothed. That's less than just enough, which is when you end up with heavy eyelids, lying in bed naked with someone you just met.

Heh heh.

I promised myself that when I settled into my new place, I would cut the shenanigans and start cooking again. The Fafrican psychic said my grandmother is sending me a message from the Great Beyond, saying that to keep myself healthy I need to cook. I knew the voice telling me to put down the Mission Burrito and hit the stove was coming from somewhere.

I know how much pressure to put on myself, and cooking isn't going to happen three times a day, but I can do 4-5 nights a week.

I'm no gourmet -- I mean look, I cook in a cow skillet --

but I can turn out a decent meal. Plus, I have hours upon hours of training from watching Food TV, which is where I found out how to make a wine reduction, which translated to me as heating only as much wine as you can spare for only as long as you can remain vertical while imbibing the rest of the bottle. With wine who doesn't love to cook?

With the addition of a little garlic, olive oil, lemon, and light seasonings, I turned out some of the best salmon I've ever made. Didn't hurt that it was one of those 75-dollar-a-pound cuts from Whole Foods. (Oh, Trader Joe's, how I yearn for your low-priced goodness.)

It's fall. I love orange. What better than a baked yam? Pat some butter. Drizzle some maple syrup. Salt 'n pepper. Throw her inside a fine-workin' oven.

Dinner was very tasty (the mysterious white lump on the salad is feta cheese. Delicious. Not photogenic).

Now I'm going to stumble back to bed. I'll dig up some PJs when the wine takes its leave.

z kitchen

2008-12-11T14:14:00.000-08:00

I feel like I dogged the psychic, and I'm compelled to say this: He works. For some people. He travels the country, teaches classes on African religions, and has a good-sized clientele. I'm sure there are people he's helped a great deal. And, of course, there are those he's helped himself to a great deal. ;)

On to the Guild find(s)! Y'all I love me some Guild. While in the checkout line yesterday I chatted with a woman who's been shopping there for decades. She called it her therapy. When I asked what the best thing she ever found at the Guild was, she described a few things, but said there were so many she couldn't name them all.

What makes it so fun is that you find stuff you never knew you couldn't live without, until you see it. In a time when vintage is popular, at the Guild you can still come across things that are sought after, some at good prices.

Yesterday I went early enough to take my time and mosey (a few times I've made the mistake of dropping in 30 - 40 minutes prior to closing, and that's so not enough time). They have a small final markdown room that's a good place to start. It contains mostly knickknacks, and usually has a few interesting items for a couple of dollars.

I got this letter Z. Why? Oh, why not. It ran me a buck, and to me it sends the message that this is it. Each moment is the end of the line. Okay, plus it's just yellow and cute.

Another time I got this fish. I think it was about 3 dollars. I keep my special tea, given to me as a going away gift by my friend Lori, in it.

I'm enjoying working with my kitchen for what it is: small, old, maybe a pinch rustic even. Vintage, rustic-y pieces work well. You couldn't put this beauty in just any kitchen:

"WOOD ROOSTER SIGN" it was tagged. It's solid and surprisingly heavy. It came complete with vestiges of bird poop! (I spared you.) I debated over buying it, because it'd gone from 27 to 21 dollars and was due to go down to 15 in about a week. That's the thing about price reduction. It brings out the miser in you. The voice of reason reminded me that it was one of a kind, that if I went back and it was gone I would've been mad at myself, and that these old signs often go for a lot more money.

Now why didn't I think to call the psychic to ask what my odds were?

it went a little something like this

2008-12-10T21:03:00.000-08:00

Sorry, Mo! Didn't mean to keep you waiting! (Now the story may not live up, lol.)

Well. Okay. Man, what a difference a couple of days make. Now I'd much rather show you guys my latest Guild find for my kitchen, but I guess I'll go on and finish up about the psychic.

The good but boring part is that he told me I am surrounded by light, and therefore will soon be having myself a gay old time spreading my new found wealth around. He said that in my internal world things are fine, and that I just have to remember not to be fooled by external circumstances. I could get behind all this. Especially the part about the moolah. He said my Yoruba energy is Shango, which is a male energy, and that Shango is the reason I work hard like a man. (Um. Not so much.) However, I am moving into Oshun, a flirty, fun, female energy, so I'm closing in on party time. I'll take that too. For his abilities as a psychic, I'd give him a 4 out of 10. He didn't tell me anything about my life that I hadn't already thought of, or that I could prove or disprove (how do I really know if I'm Shango or not?), but I'll accept a feel-good reading any day.

But I wasn't there to test his psychic ability so much as to rate him on the sexy meter.

See, I have a friend down here (who shall remain nameless but it ain't hard to guess) who is dating this woman. A woman who sees this psychic on a regular basis. In the past, she's seen him even more regularly, because even though she was married at the time, this psychic read her so well that she opened like a flower, if you know what I mean. They started up a thang, which they eventually stopped, but she still goes to see him at least once a month. My friend was telling me about this, scratching his head over what this psychic has going on that's so powerful good, when we got the idea for me to go see him as a spy. My friend would cover the 75 dollar charge, and I would issue a full report. My mission was to see if I could understand why the woman my friend is dating would feel the need to jump the psychic's bones, and remain a loyal client.

I couldn't figure it out. On the sexy meter, I give him a 2. He'd get a 2.5 if he wasn't so full of himself. Judging from his demeanor, the (F)African priest vibe + his "intuitionist" powers = panties thrown on the stage. I think he sees a lot of lonely married women. I know he takes full advantage of the fact. (Oh, and apparently his game is so tight that he doesn't have to work that hard at it any more. Not only does he live with his mom, but he did my reading wearing sweats and a T-shirt. Ceremonial robes might've boosted him to a 3!)

It was fun going to see him under the guise of having been sent by some unnamed friend of a friend, and I was kind of hoping he'd blow my cover so I could believe going in that he did indeed have powers.

i opened my big mouth, but only to yawn

2008-12-09T21:41:00.000-08:00

This happens whenever I declare a continuation of a post: the obligation makes me sleepy. I am going to climb up into bed now, and finish the psychic post tomorrow. Really. Tomorrow.

it's a psychic thing. you wouldn't understand.

2008-12-08T20:28:00.000-08:00

Msaims, I thought I'd heard roosters bring luck. I'm glad you confirmed it, but alarmed about the male energy, lol! This is chick time for me and Mira!

Speaking of chick time ... not really. Just couldn't think of a good transition, ha ha. But seriously folks, I went to a psychic today. He calls himself an intuitionist, the new hot word for psychic. Getting my own personal psychic is something I've been meaning to do, but I'd never gotten around to it because I'm A) skeptical, and B) judgmental. A is self-explanatory, but what I mean by B is that if you tell me you've got the power to see into my life, I fully expect you to have your own act together. It's hard for me to take you completely seriously if you're over 50 and living with your mother, like the guy I saw today. (Though he had his reasons, and see what I mean? I'm passing judgment. If my mother were alive I'd probably be begging to move in with her right now. Okay. No I wouldn't.)

Anyhow, this psychic is what Mister Stevens calls a Fafrican. That's an African-American who has taken on an African name and adopted elements of African culture, a fake African. I was a Fafrican for about two years in the early 90s, when black people were going around wearing Africa medallions and saying "It's a Black thing. You wouldn't understand." I didn't change my name or anything, never having felt it my right to do so seeing as my momma gave it to me, but I did sport me a medallion and a black Bart T-shirt. I felt ever so smartly attired during my Black History classes. (Come to think of it, I bought the black Bart tee here in Houston. For some reason I actually still have it.) Spike Lee's Malcolm X came out and we all wanted to represent the Motherland.

A few years later I started studying different kinds of spirituality, and though my Fafrican phase was fading, I wanted to feel more connected to African culture, so I looked into the Yoruba religion. I found it is not a religion for the lazy, with its 400-plus orishas, deities that govern the head, surplus of ritual, and mandatory learning of West African history -- and of another language, for cryin' out loud. (The woman who first locked my hair went through initiation to become a Yoruba priestess while I knew her. She'd had a gorgeous head of locks but had to cut them off and shave her head as an initiate. I greatly admired this, and mostly wished she could've stuck the beautiful, thick hair she cut on my head.) I got a lot farther with Buddhism, because there's pretty much the Buddha, so that worked better for me (see lazy comment above).

I brought all this up because my psychic unearthed these old memories. He's a Yoruba priest, though I didn't know that going in.

Tomorrow I'll tell you guys how I wound up on his doorstep, and some things he told me. How I got there is the better story.

bed time

2008-12-07T21:54:00.001-08:00

If you have to choose between buying a bed or a couch, buy the bed, but be prepared to suffer the consequence of staying in bed all day.

list

2008-12-06T23:59:00.000-08:00

Contact paper, a kitchen rug, a plug adapter, more hangers...

Looks like Target and Ross will be seeing a lot of me this week.

wine, a rooster and song

2008-12-05T21:10:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I got my key and moved a few things in. Today I live here!

My bed arrived and, thanks to my best buddy Ross, I did it up nice. It's so high off the floor that Natalie suggested I buy a bed step. Seriously. I'll show y'all one day. I've always wanted a really high bed and dangit I've got one now. The Comcast guy came and hooked up my Internets, so Helloooo, everybody! My friend Anthony (can I just say "Anthony" now? You guys know he's pretty much my only friend in Houston, right?) hired a guy to help me move all my stuff from his garage to my house. All that's left is my chest, and he'll bring that over the weekend.

Anthony owns an ambulance company. Here's my stuff going down the road in one of his vans that's soon to carry the sickly to better health.

When I tell you it's been a mighty long road to get here, I mean it. The only word I can use to describe being here tonight is happy. Happy. Happy. Happy, happy, happy.

movin' on up

2008-12-04T23:13:00.000-08:00

Beans don't burn in the kitchen; fish don't fry on the grill. Took a whole lotta tryin' just to get up that hill. Now we're up in the big leagues gettin' our turn at bat. Long as we live it's you and me baby, and ain't nothin' wrong with that!

getting to the good part

2008-12-03T22:33:00.000-08:00

Yee! Tomorrow I do my walk-through, and I'll come away jingling some keys. And as the perfect housewarming gift, Natalie is going to try to visit this month! Yee again!

tgif (a girl can dream)

2008-12-02T18:29:00.000-08:00

Borders. Laptop. Wi-Fi. Rolling along.

Wah! I wanna go home!

I'm counting the days until Friday, I swear.

Anthony's house is gorgeous, spacious, more than suitable for guests. In my room, I have my own bath. As does his other house guest. As does he. As do his visiting parents. And there are still plenty of bathrooms left to go around! I can eat anything in the fridge. Borrow an SUV should I come across something to haul. Soak up cable TV. Dip my feet in the pool (I say it's too chilly for full immersion). I should really be enjoying living like the other half, but all I can think about is Friday, when I'll be drinking ceremonial wine and resting my bones on a brand new bed in my own humble house. Mira, who has to stay sequestered in my room at Anthony's because his parents would have a conniption something fierce if they knew a cat was around, will have the run of the place. Friday, hurry, HURRY!

In the meantime and between time, I've been stopping by The Guild Shop so much that one of the workers has started taking me to the loading area to show me cool stuff he thinks I might like before he prices it and puts it on the floor. He told me there's always room for negotiation pre-pricing. Yesterday some well-kept Queen Anne chairs came in. I don't like Queen Anne chairs, at all, but they were a pretty blue color so I asked how much they were. The price was too high to negotiate to something reasonable (and I wasn't serious anyway). My guy said they were priced high because they were leather, but upon closer inspection, he found they weren't. He called another guy over for a second opinion. That guy took one look, shook his head, and said, Those are Naugahyde-a-saurus. They're extinct. I thought that was funny. Anyway, some things that caught my eye (cell phone shots, so look not for quality):

Red snack plates, too small for the kind of snacking I like to do, but pretty.
I really love the shape of the alabaster lamp. Very mid-century. I debated on buying it, especially when it comes up for markdown on the 8th, but it needs a new cord, so meh.
Also love the tulip-shaped silk lampshade on the faux bamboo floor lamp. It'll get marked down tomorrow, but I don't love it enough to get up early to snag it.
Suddenly I'm crazy for roosters, and want to start a small collection. This clock wasn't the one to kick it off. I do like it though.

And Mira, just because she's cute.

Again, thanks for all the great advice on getting my place together. You guys rock the casbah. I'm going to follow the move in, scrub down, and see what needs prettyfyin' crowd.

when technology kills

2008-12-01T21:53:00.000-08:00

I totally did a whole post from my cell phone and my cell phone totally deleted it. In it, I thanked you guys for the advice on fixing up my house. I will say thanks again tomorrow, from my computer, with pictures. xo

on the road again

2008-11-30T16:35:00.000-08:00

I've been procrastinating on packing up and moving down to my friend's house all day long. I don't care if all you've gotta pack is a closet. It always has twice the stuff and takes twice the time you think it will.

warms my heart

2008-11-29T21:52:00.000-08:00

Another thing to like about Houston, and this is a southern thing, is that when you walk up to people they say, There she is! even if they just saw you ten minutes ago.

rate my space

2008-11-28T16:59:00.000-08:00

Okay, maybe don't rate it.

Wednesday before I left for Austin I had to stop by my new place to post a note to FedEx on the door. When I arrived, there was a man working on the garage, so I was able to go inside using his key. This was the first time I'd been in without the rental lady, aka my landlady's daughter-in-law, breathing down my neck. I took a good hard look around, and boy, some sprucing up is most definitely in order. Suddenly, though, I find myself feeling very lazy, and the thought of painting, so appealing a couple of weeks ago, makes me want to sit under a shady tree sipping lemonade and reading a book. If I paint, I'll have to paint again before I leave. Ugh. But lordy I've gotta do something. I mean, overall the place is okay, but chockablock with character it ain't. Take a look (make way for a zillion pictures, and click for bigger) --

Living room:

This little side space could be a sewing/crafty area:

Dining area? (It's right next to the kitchen so I'm thinking, Oh, why not?):

Bedroom 1 (two closets, whoo-hoo!):

Bedroom 2:

Kitchen:

Bath:

Dated? Yes. But I can live with that. Boring? Yes! But what to do about it, without having to do too much? I'd say the two things I'd like to camouflage, work around, or "hide" (now that I've moved beyond the carpet) are the cabinetry, especially in the kitchen, and the old fashioned, ginormous ceiling fans. All pointers, suggestions, tips, etc, are welcomed!

with two you get turkey

2008-11-27T22:15:00.000-08:00

No homemade turkey, but Bubs and I went to my favorite Austin spot, Hyde Park Bar & Grill. We had drinks and dinner at the bar, then came home and I stayed in while everyone else went to dinner at my mother-in-law's friend's place. I could've gone, but then I would've missed my favorite Thanksgiving day tradition, the nap. Now, a Doris Day marathon. With Six You Get Eggroll just ended, and Please Don't Eat the Daisies is on.

Que Sera, sera. Whatever will be, will be. The future's not ours to see. Que sera, sera.

turkey for you, turkey for me

2008-11-26T00:26:00.000-08:00

It's me and Mira, hitting the highway to Austin once again. The Bubs is already there, and I hope he and his mom are prepping the bird for the oven. Have a great Thanksgiving, everybody!

the windows are illuminated

2008-11-25T16:01:00.000-08:00

The move has begun. Today I took some boxes (and sewing machines that'd been sitting in my car nearly two months) down to my friend Anthony's house. Oh, I won't simply be moving from where I am now to my house. No. I'll be moving from here to Anthony's on Sunday and staying with him until I move into my place the following Friday. This means I have to haul all my stuff down to his house in the boonies, including my new bedroom furniture, which I have to pick up from The Guild by Monday, situate whatever I can't leave sitting in my car in his garage, and pack it up again on Friday.

It's like the last leg of a race. My chest is burning, my legs are about to give out, and I just want to rip through that finish line already.

Still, I can see the finish line, which is ever so nice, and if I flip it around and look at how lucky I am I feel nothing but gratitude. I have to do all this maneuvering for financial reasons, and what if I didn't have Anthony? I'd have to hide the stuff in the garage at my new place and hope my landlord wouldn't discover it when we do the walk through. That would make for an interesting move in. Hey, how'd my stuff get in here? I think it's trying to freeload! Officer, arrest this stuff! Nah. I'm sure things would've worked out somehow, but it's a relief to be able to count on a friend.

While plotting and planning and prepping to settle here, I've figured out some things:

Houston is not cheap. It's cheap for a big city. That ain't cheap cheap. I'm paying the same amount of rent I would've been paying in Los Angeles. Only I'm getting a 2 bedroom house for it instead of a studio apartment.
Living the good life "inside the loop," in the convenient heart of the city, is especially not cheap. My house is what Houstonians call a "tear down." Meaning it's what was a fine and dandy home 25 years ago but now has been encroached upon by dreaded (yet coveted) McMansions, so there's no way to buy it and live decent in it and feel good about yourself. In order to face yourself in the mirror each morning, you'd have to tear it down and build something on par with the rest of the humongousness in the area. Yet it costs a princely sum to rent because of its inner-loop, tony zip code. I could've gotten a bigger, newer house for less money in the 'burbs. (What can I say? I likes me a fancy 'hood. Especially one in a place that's aptly named Bellaire.)
This place is crying out for a Trader Joe's.
Everyone you meet will be the nicest whatever. The guy I'm buying my bed from is the nicest mattress guy in the world. I ordered a set, then went back yesterday to test it out again, just in case. Of course on that second trip I was armed with all kinds of misinformation I'd picked up on the Internet. Just enough to be dangerous. But Kevin the Mattress Guy took the time to explain to me not only the finer points of mattresses, but his own business model and why he carries the merchandise he does. He did this with a set of mattresses hot on his truck, waiting to be delivered (when I pulled up he was on his way out). I lounged on the floor model of my chosen set, the Lexington Plush, and he explained everything with a smile. When I left, he cheerfully said, See you next time, Miss Carla. I've also met the nicest rental lady from whom I didn't rent but did have a 1.5 hour conversation. And the nicest quilt shop lady with whom I had a 45 minute conversation even though it was obvious I wasn't going to buy anything. (This conversation took place when I stopped at her family's shop, Tea Time Quilting, on a whim after having left the nicest rental lady's rental house. I prayed not to run into any more nice people that day.)
Parking is a dream come true. I get what Mister Stevens likes to call "prime time parking" all over the place. I am free to roam the countryside without worry over cash for parking structures or validation or circling the block like a vulture looking for a carcass.
There's a high likelihood of throwing a rock and hitting a decent human being. I didn't know S from Adam when I moved in here. Found her on Craig's List. Living in a room in someone's little house gets old real quick, but this experience has gone as best I could've hoped. I leave S and her stuff alone. She leaves me and my stuff alone. When we do interact, it's pleasant. (A far cry from the roommate I had who used to wear my earrings and swear up and down they were hers. Eventually she stole them all and I found them hidden in a bag in her closet.)
Like Jay-Z, folks don't knock the hustle. S works full-time, bought this house as investment property, rents out this room, and operates a pet sitting business. The woman who owns my rental house is a university professor, national speaker, and owns multiple properties. Notice anything about Tea Time? It's connected to Jana's Flowers. That's because Jana, the nicest quilt lady's mom, owns Tea Time too.

At the end of the day am I glad I'm here? Are you kidding me? I'm elated. Did you read the part where I said I'll be living in a 2 bedroom house for the price of an LA studio? Or the thing about the nicest people? Really, all I can say is that Houston has been very good to me so far.

everything is good

2008-11-24T21:26:00.000-08:00

Getting dressed out of garbage bags and boxes would be a drag. Luckily I've been able to avoid that experience; the room I'm renting came furnished, chest included. When I first got here I had a rebellious moment and didn't want to put my stuff in it. Natalie made me, and when she left having everything in its place kept me from hanging myself, I mean, er, feeling too out of sorts.

Last night I started scouring Craig's List to see if I could find a dresser or a chest before I move, so that I can blow past the bags and again get my glad rags situated quickly. I never buy such furniture from Ikea or contemporary furniture stores. Not to sound 100, but they don't make 'em like they used to, so I look for old/used/vintage pieces. In New York I bought a chest that I dearly loved at one of the Harlem antique stores. I hated to leave it when I moved to LA. I think Mister Stevens is still using it. He says I said he could have it. I say never.

Craig's List didn't yield anything, so I decided to keep checking and go the thrift store route as well. Thanks to the magic of the Internets, I found out The Guild Shop is said to be the best in town. I haven't been to its competitors, but I can vouch that it's fantastic, and today was my day to hit the jackpot.

When I saw this set I my heart fluttered. When I saw the price -- the side tables (night stands for me) were 33. each and the chest was 108. -- it skipped a beat. I want to do eclectic decor anchored by a mid-century spin. These pieces exactly fit what I have in mind. I am pleeeaaased to have found them. A loving wipe down and they're golden. I still can't get over the price, and neither could the store guy who assisted me. Pulling out drawers and admiring the craftsmanship, he kept saying, Boy, you got really lucky today! Every other piece of furniture that caught my eye was at least 300 bucks.

The tables have a shelf inside. Perfect for hiding the prodigious amounts of crap that follow me to bed. The bottom doors on the chest open to three more drawers. Well made. Visually interesting. What more could I want?

life used to be so hard

2008-11-23T23:59:00.000-08:00

It's almost time, y'all. In less than two weeks I'll be HOME. It's been a long road, and a difficult one, and I'm overjoyed that it's coming to a point of rest.

That said, I just know there's something I'm forgetting to do or order or buy so that I can be comfy off the bat. Let's see, I've got:

a bed on the way
a free TV & DVD player that lovely Charissa, Natalie's other ace boon, gave me
a few dishes
a pot and a pan
dish washing liquid & cleanser & sponges
a duvet cover & sheets (oops! no comforter)
towels
toiletries
a cat
cat accoutrements
wi-fi in the works
books & magazines
ipod & ihome
a microwave
a vintage kitchen cart on which to rest said microwave
terlit paper & paper towels
a broom & a dustpan

Anything I'm missing? Do I have all the survivalist requirements? Can I get by with this list while I work on setting up paradise? Care to add?

ETA: A shower curtain! Genius! Thanks, Carat. :)

one down

2008-11-22T23:56:00.000-08:00

Had my first Thanksgiving dinner tonight, kicking things off early. S, the woman from whom I'm renting a room, kindly invited me to eat with her and her dad, who drove to Houston with his fiancee and her son. They live in a tiny town a few hours away, and decided that since they were visiting for other reasons, they'd also bring a turkey and celebrate the holiday while here. S's sister and her husband also came. It was a nice family affair with me as a tagalong.

the prince and the pea

2008-11-21T23:20:00.000-08:00

Thanks for the sofa comments. :) I'll let you guys know if they meet the plush test when I see them in person. I can't wait to be in my house already. Today I did some mattress shopping and found a set I like. When I sent my friend Anthony a text about it, he recommended I check out his mattress seller before I buy. His seller is a woman who brings mattresses directly to a customer's home. On the back of a pickup truck. Sometimes at 12:45am (as Anthony found out). Her guarantee is that if you sleep on a mattress and don't like it, she'll deliver another one for you to try. She's due to drop off a second set at Anthony's house tomorrow, since he decided the first wasn't quite what he was looking for.

Where she's getting these mattresses, lord only knows.

gonna fill it up with love

2008-11-20T11:59:00.000-08:00

Okay enough of the dark religious cult business. It's time for furniture shopping, decorating, and bargain hunting. I'm about to buy a bed, and every time I see a photo of a pillow-top mattress, I salivate. I've found a couple good mattress deals to go check out this weekend. I also found a place that sells beautiful, affordable furniture. Need to drop in to check out this sofa. And this one.

all three

2008-11-19T22:32:00.000-08:00

Hey, Catherine. Hiya. Yes, I did see the CNN broadcast (Escape from Jonestown), and the one on MSNBC (Witness to Jonestown). I thought the CNN one was better. (They're both on YouTube.)

Here's a link to such a sad, touching video interview. I'd post it here but it's so dark and I'm ready to return to happy times! Honestly, the man being interviewed, Stanley Clayton (who was also featured in Jonestown on PBS), reminds me of my brother, and as hard as he tries to contain the hell he's just been through, it's written all over him.

Heather, very interesting point about the information you received versus what we saw here in the States. Here, we have a fascination with the criminal mind, power, and corruption, and Jones was the face of all three.

we hope we know better

2008-11-18T17:17:00.001-08:00

I keep this one filed under my list of weird preoccupations and mild obsessions: Jonestown. Today is the 30th anniversary of the day members of the Peoples Temple drank the proverbial Kool-Aid. When it happened, I was 12, and it shocked and confounded me. It was all too bizarre and frightening. I grew up in the black community, was properly baptized at 12, just like Jesus, and the only white men who regularly had any direct say in our personal lives were insurance salesmen. At 12, the first thing that puzzled me about Jonestown was how a white man lured hundreds of black people to some strange country I had never heard of. As insular as my community was, we didn't have that kind of trust. And when Jonestown happened, I felt plenty glad of it. (I'm sure there's some kind of thesis here, something like, "Jonestown: The White Boogieman in the Black Imagination.)

This impression separated us from them; my black community from the black community who fell for Jim Jones. I took refuge in the belief that neither of my church-going grandmothers would take me to a church like Peoples Temple; they would know better.

I study Jonestown from time to time. Not often, but whenever there's an event that returns the public consciousness to the tragedy, like the Powers Boothe movie, Guyana Tragedy, or last year's PBS documentary, Jonestown, or a major anniversary, like today. Each time I delve a little deeper into the Zeitgeist of the times, the firsthand accounts of the insanity of life in the temple, and the pathology of Jim Jones. I have yet to come away feeling like, Yeah, this could've happened to me or my family, because it's rather like slavery -- was it Eddie Murphy who said people who try to claim that when Massa told them to do something they would've just said "Massa, kiss my ass" had no understanding of slavery? It's easy to look back based on the lessons learned from other people's trials and say how much more self-protective and unerring I would have been. But I can see this basket has a hole in its bottom.

i'll light the fire

2008-11-17T11:59:00.000-08:00

LOL! Ellen, you're too funny. Yes, I know not only of tasteless decorating, but also of the bubblegum and toothpicks used to hold it together. I'm surprised no one's filed a class-action suit against home makeover shows. But it's hard to mess up a flat screen TV, or a sofa, or dinette set, ha ha. I figure I might end up with some redecorating to do, but it'd be worth it for the loot!