A mini mood board for making it to the midpoint of winter:
I heartily agree with this in 2023, The Year of the Capybara:
Replace Groundhog Day with Capybara Spa Day pic.twitter.com/EjO72X0Un2
— Clayton Cubitt (@claytoncubitt) February 2, 2019
A mini mood board for making it to the midpoint of winter:
I heartily agree with this in 2023, The Year of the Capybara:
Replace Groundhog Day with Capybara Spa Day pic.twitter.com/EjO72X0Un2
— Clayton Cubitt (@claytoncubitt) February 2, 2019
A friend showed her kiddo pics of the dice bag I made Doc’s nephew and he wondered “if Miss Karen would make a bag for me and my auntie.” Miss Karen said of course she would–no charge, just provide the fabric.
Well, the fabrick [sic] arrived last week along with instructions re: which is the lining for which bag…and a Lego figure as a surprise payment!
I was reminded of 2020 when I was trading mask sewing for toilet paper and fresh eggs and have to conclude that I love the sewing barter economy.
I’ve been missing the mountains, but it’s been snowing the last two Sundays and gearing up to go out in the snow just hits different at the end of January vs. at the beginning of November.
So we stayed home and I started quilting my chore coat:
My long black quilted coat used a thin cotton batting and I absolutely paved that thing with quilting–so for this completely different quilted coat, I used a really hi-loft polyester batting and am just outlining the sawtooth stars. And boy is it puffy!
I am going to be so warm. Warm and bulky. Quilt bros will understand.
1. Anne Helen Petersen talked about layoffs, terrible CEOs, and the fight between how it has always been (employers in power) and how it could be. Worth a read!
Even if you’ve come to terms with the fundamental irrationality of the stock market, it’s still difficult to fight the feeling that CEOs are willing this recession into existence to create a justifying narrative for layoffs. Not because they necessarily want to save money, or even redirect the company, but to press reset on what they view as out-of-control compensation packages and worker demands.
2. I feel like I’ve linked this before, but I was stuck for something to listen to and Austin Kleon’s “31 perfect records” (i.e., albums where he doesn’t skip a track) came up. Sam Cooke is number 1!
3. Anything is a sea chanty:
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The vibes this week are “wow it’s hard to wake up” and “huh, I slept for 9 hours and could keep sleeping” and “ooh yes I do need an extra blanket on the bed”–that is, they are hibernation vibes (hibes?). Here’s a handful of pictures and accounts for your own sleepy times:
From a series by artist Sophie Lucido Johnson:
From a wonderful account that just posts art all day, Le Jardin RoBo:
From pretty much the opposite of a refined art account, but a good time (Da Share Zone):
Legalize it!
Doc got me a Lego set for Christmas and it might have been the most inspired gift ever: It gives you the mental break of a puzzle, but it’s structured, which means nothing is open-ended and you never have to search for a solution. If you have my brain (anxious, needs order) then this is the best possible thing you can imagine.
I built the pirate ship from my Christmas set and will disassemble it soon to turn it into a pirate tavern (it’s a 3-in-1!) but in the meantime I found the Legos marketed specifically for adults and bought one for myself:
I remember doing a few sets back in the 90s but I was still young enough that the process wasn’t important, the main thing was getting to the finished product as soon as possible so you could play Lego Pirates. But building sets an an adult? Yes, give me more instructions to follow precisely. I can’t get enough.
Nearly a year ago (to the very day!) I posted about maybe sewing a carry-on bag and traveling. That, of course, was before Toby got sick and now that he needs insulin twice a day, we’ve kind of shelved the idea of travel for the time being. But did I buy fabric for the damn bag a year ago, plus all the hardware and notions? Of course. Has everything been sitting in a pile on the end of my ironing board for a year now? You know it!
I ended up going with a stripe to copy the Kate Spade Saturday look to the max, in waterproof Ottertex ordered from Fabric Wholesale Direct:
And of course I planned on doing the contrast lining (but in orange ripstop) and yes, the lining fabric has been sitting on the ironing board for a year, too:
Okay, I’ve answered my question; I’d better just sew this thing up after I finish the latest quilt coat. Maybe we won’t be traveling but it would be nice to have the end of the ironing board back.
Today’s the fourth anniversary of Mom’s death. I don’t have much to say today; the longer it is, the more grief and memory are just a daily thing versus a “before this date, everything was okay” comparison. I wish she was still here. I wish I could show her my quilts and my cakes. I’m glad she’s not sick anymore.
1. This onion definitely made me cry:
2. That’s okay, though, because this kid knows what to say to someone who’s crying:
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3. This was my dad’s theme song for the first few months after mom’s death. It’s just what you have to do: keep on keepin’ on.
PS–First Aid Kit is coming to town in May! Maybe Dad and I should go.
This starts with birds (great! we love birds) and then veers into Monet (cool, ok) and ends with maybe the best depiction of grief over time I’ve ever read (oh my god that took a turn). But that’s what art is for, right? Giving you an expression for something you didn’t have before. “All the same but for the light.”
Everything Is a Sign Today
by Amanda Moore
Feather in the grass, stippled and striped:
hawk, I think. And then a man
blocking the sidewalk, child on his back,
both of them pointing binoculars toward the treetop
where I know a great horned owl nests, though I’ve never seen it.
All these birds: creatures I might never have known
had I not spent my childhood filling her feeders, naming
each genus from our perch at her kitchen table.
A falcon swoops down beside me on the path
gripping some rodent in its talons, twisting the body to kill.
Like the time a heron a few feet from our picnic blanket
plucked a whole mouse from its burrow and swept away. She had been
delighted, said we, too, should grab something special
of our own that day. Turning toward home,
I bend to collect a wrinkled postcard at the curb:
an advertisement for the Monet exhibit. How I loved
those paintings when I was younger, all of them nearly the same:
haystack, haystack, haystack. The only difference
the season and time of day, which is to say
they are like this grief these months later:
all the same but for the light.