Posie Gets Cozy

All in Their Places

On Tuesday, I started winding floss. It had to be done. For several years I have had three very full boxes of floss bobbins, organized by color. But this week I rewound all of them onto plastic bobbins (many of the old ones were on paper), labeling them with their DMC stickers (if I could — many of the numbers were not noted, and I had duplicates of many), redoing my rainbow.

It took two days. Rewinding flosses and planting them into rows of flossy tulips is fun for about . . . twenty minutes. On the fourteenth bobbin, you're still like, "Cool, this is fun, looks pretty, only 249 more to go, no prob, bring it." By the 50th you're like, "Yeah, they [whoever they are] are so right, I so totally have no life. None." By the last ones (in the 200s) you're feeling very mental, much as you did when you were finishing the ripple blanket on the ripple assembly line, sort of panicking and winding faster than your carpal tunnel allows, like someone running downhill on America's Funniest Videos (and by the way, as a longtime AFV watcher I never thought anyone could replace the comedic lunacy of Bob Saget, but Tom Bergeron you are hilarious, especially when you do that Big Head thing? — you should do a Big Head thing on someone running downhill toward, like, a big pile of soft hay or something. That would be hilarious. And also, more merry-go-rounds and treadmills. There's just nothing funnier than people wiping out on those). Anyway, when you're on your last bobbin, you will feel like your brain got all tangled and spun on the floss merry-go-round, so go have a bike ride and clear your head.

Oh, the bike ride. Well, the tire was brand new, put on at the bike shop that morning because the one from last year was flat. When it blew, Andy let me ride his new bike to save my bad foot the three-mile walk, and he led my lame Palomino pony (actually, she's more of a buckskin) back down the no-street-access path in topsiders and no socks ( = six blisters and a sad, barefooted walk back into the bike shop since he couldn't fit the shoes back on over the bubbles. I dared him to walk in barefoot. No one got it, though, except us, natch, because our humor is so subtle and cleverly hilarious. At least they didn't charge us to replace it again).

Guess we'll be getting that emergency repair kit we so cavalierly passed on at the bike shop the day before (when we were buying Andy's new bike). We pretty much go to the bike store every day. The bike guys said there was something wrong with my rim, which popped the tire, but supposedly that's been corrected now, so we'll see. . . . We are biking dillettantes. Don't ask us to be smart about it 'cause we won't. But look at these awesome bicycle baskets by David Hembrow. You may wonder why they are so expensive until you watch the video of him making one and then it is all very clear. Now that's handmade, baby.

Anyway, back to me. I am so loving the variegated hand-dyed cotton flosses from Weeks Dye Works and The Gentle Art. The Valdani threads are beautiful, though I haven't tried those yet. I buy evenweaves and fancy floss from Acorns and Threads here in town. After I recovered from the winding, when I saw how many regular floss bobbins I had that weren't numbered, I also hightailed it over to the DMC web site and ordered a floss color card, which should be here any day! Oooo, I can't wait!

Yes, this is how I get my jollies. What of it.

Audrey Scarf

Over the weekend, I worked on my little headscarf, for the next time I go the park to read in the sun. I don't like to wear hats cause I feel like I can't see anything and then that makes me all panicky. (Neither do I seem to wear sunglasses successfully, for the same reason.) But the triangle headscarf — now you're talking.

The design is a little spray of apple blossoms, done in satin stitch and very teensy backstitches, with cotton embroidery floss. Just a simple outline, my favorite thing. The pattern is from 400 Floral Motifs for Designers, Needleworkers and Craftspeople from Dover, the coolest-ever publisher with so much incredible copyright-free clipart it just makes me want to sob blubberingly. I intend to bind the edges of this with a thin strip olive-drab color binding, and make the ties from that, as well, and tie them under my hair in back, like a bandana.

Though if I could look like this with it tied the other way you know I would never, ever take it off:

Oh, my dear Audreys. You really were the most beautiful, enchanted creatures ever.

Oh, Snap!

Look who it is! The Country Girls!

Oh yes, they're ready to go! The computer [after I yelled at it/threatened flight/took a shower/successfully deleted 33,000 "deleted" messages] had one look at these girls and started working properly — it was a clothespin-doll miracle. So the Country Girls themselves, as well as kits to make them, are in my web shop, waiting for you. I'll take as many orders for these as come in this week, so that's why I'm springing them on you.

Each finished doll comes fully painted, varnished, and dressed, with a hand-embroidered apron and a bouquet of paper flowers. Each girl is signed, dated, boxed, and ribboned, ready for giving.

Each kit has almost everything you need to make five dolls:

5 doll pins
5 doll-pin stands
5 doll head beads
(5) 8" square pieces of assorted calicos (for dresses)
(5) 5" square pieces of assorted ginghams (for aprons)
5 pieces beige pipecleaner (for arms)
15 miniature wired paper flowers
White embroidery floss (for embroidery and sashes)
Custom acrylic paint and varnish set
Full-color instruction cards
Dress pattern
Embroidery chart

You will need to have your own:

Scalloped or zigzag pinking shears
Regular scissors and embroidery scissors
Heavy-weight thread
Needle
Assorted paintbrushes, at least one of them fine-tipped
Glue
4" (10cm) embroidery hoop

Please note, though, that neither the dolls nor the kits will ship until the week of April 1. We will be ordering supplies for and putting together kits based on the number of orders that come in this week, just to make sure we get it right this time and don't have to place multiple orders. Also, we won't have the benefit of employing the most industrious half to Team Paulson (grandpa and mom) who were so effective in filling paint pots for the Lucia kits at lightning speed last Thanksgiving. But if you can be a little patient, I think you'll be very happy with these little kits and pretty girls!

Thank-You Flowers

Hi. These are for you, with love.

Thank you for the thousand small kindnesses, the pats and kisses and wishes, all the patience, the nods, for all the samenesses and the differences between us, all the miles and even years. Stories take so long to tell, sometimes. You tell them, sheepish, because here we go again. Occasionally it feels much like telling a dream — you're explaining, your listener's patiently indulging (kind-eyed: "Go on,"), and you're (still thinking you can get it right) scrambling to put your finger on it all. To what end, I'm not sure. Just to say, I think. Just to have been listened to. "We were in the backyard, but it wasn't the backyard, it was more like a ship, I think it was the Coral Sea, except that I've never been there, but yeah I'm pretty sure it was the Coral Sea."

And your listening friend goes, "Ah, yes, the Coral Sea," and bobs slightly, feeling small waves.

Thank you. xoxo

Picnic Skirt

I finished my smocked skirt yesterday, stitching up the sides and hemming it, attaching a strip of bias tape to the waistline, adding a zipper. I'm very happy with it, though it's still too cold to wear, I think (in spite of camellia evidence).

This skirt is from a different Japanese craft book than the bag and the apron; this one is ISBN 4-277-31151-2. But basically, this skirt is simple — just measure your waist and cut two panels using that measurement as the width, one for front, one for back. Then smock them all the way across the top for about four inches; my pattern gathers the 1/4" gingham fabric to about half of what I started with, but it's not exact, so I made sure to remeasure each panel before stitching up the side seams and putting in the zipper.

Then I just zoomed around the top and attached a strip of purchased bias tape for the waist band. You could add a regular waistband here, too; that's how it was in the book. But I hate it when those things fold over (ahem) when I'm wearing them (ahem) so this little strip is fine. What I noticed when I tried it on is that it really had to fit kind of high on my waist to look right. I wound up having to take it in a little more before adding the bias tape to finish. It's not a hip-hugger skirt, it's more like a dancing skirt. It will also make your can look huge. Huger.

The embroidery across the bottom is a classic thing called Chicken Scratch you see on a lot of vintage gingham aprons. It's just three strands of white floss, and straight stitches; to make what looks like white circles, you make sort of an open-cross shape with a white square in the middle, then go under each leg of the cross, around in a spiral, twice. For such a simple treatment, I think it looks so pretty. If you do this, I would definitely wait to do the embroidery until you are sure you've got the side seams right; since I had to take the skirt in further, after I put the zipper in (whoops), my embroidery is a bit off center. You can't really tell since it's all so gathered, but I'm waiting to do the embroidery last on the light blue one (yep, already doing another). Welcome to Alicia's Smocking Blog! I know, right?

Mmmmm-mornin'

Monday ("Pastry-bag-day") already, huh? That weekend was sloooow, yet too fast. It was sloooow because it felt like the first one in I don't even know how long where Andy and I had nothing to do and nowhere to go. We puttered. He puttered, I sat. Mostly cross-stitching and smocking (show ya later). Tick tick tick the hours went by, quiet and slow. We watched Persuasion and Uncle Buck. He made rice pudding and Swedish meatballs. I made chicken and broccoli. Clover got long walks. We considered going various places and decided not to. Man, it was so great. All of us here needed that so much.

I'm blushing furiously over how many people downloaded the Pleasant Kitchen Dishtowel designs. Shelly told me she checked the stats last night and the pdf had been downloaded 1,717 times. DUDES! Seriously? I'm so pleased that you like them. I have really loved doing this project, and plan to finish all the bindings this week and help you with that, too. Really I'm just completely delighted that both the concept and the designs have found such kindred spirits. Some projects just need to be shared, so thank you for welcoming this one!

On Friday morning I attended a free "webinar" at Blurb. com. This was such a cool presentation, where you phone in to hear a lecture about making books with Blurb, and walks you through all the steps on screen. I first heard of Blurb last summer but I never really had time to do anything about it. I was a little intimidated by the software every time I started playing with it, too. But last month, when I wrote this post about the tomato soup and you shared your own family favorites, I had an idea to collect it all in a Blurb book. If I do decide to do it, I will send out a call to anyone who wants to participate, and have you resubmit your story, a recipe, and a photo of the food (or whoever made it for you). Then I'll take everything and format it into a Blurb book that would be available for everyone. I am excited about the idea, and just have to see when I will have time this spring to get going on it. I'll keep you posted on how it all shakes down, but just be thinking of one.

Pleasant Kitchen Dishtowels

Here they are, my dishtowel designs! I decided yesterday to offer these little designs as a freebie, in honor of my sweet Grandma Ieronemo, and all of our grandmas, really. I drew things I have (or want to have, in the case of Sunday's Cheese Lady, ahem . . . someday) in my own pleasant little kitchen. Please click here to download the pdf (you will need Adobe Reader to view it).

I enjoyed making these so much. You could add color to these, or some further decorative stitches, but I really love the simplicity of simple black line art lately. Alas, for now you'll have to transfer them yourself using a light box or a bright window (they are not iron-ons), but I really just wanted to get them out there. I will probably start doing some embroidery kits and transfers later this year, when I get a little more caught up with things, I promise.

Should you need dishtowels, I've heard that these are very nice. I used the cheapies from the fabric store myself, but after seeing how much work went into these, I kinda wish I'd gotten some better ones. I trimmed all the edges straight with a rotary cutter before transferring the designs, 'cause they are so not square. Be sure to wash them (and your trim fabric, if you're going to make some binding to edge it all) before sewing. Or don't, and just get to work. They're just dishtowels, after all . . . ish. (See below.)

I used a Micron 0.1mm marker to transfer the images, and a water eraseable very-fine-tip fabric marker to transfer the text (so I didn't have to draw each dash; I just drew a solid line and then embroidered dashes with running stitch, washing the marker out when I was finished). You could use a fabric marker for the pictures, too, but I prefer the Micron myself. The line is so fine it can be covered with one strand, but I don't have to worry about it fading at all. I just find it easier to use in general. I have a pretty steady hand with it, but if you're nervous, just use the fabric marker. Be careful using an iron-on transfer pencil to trace these in reverse and iron them on; when you print them, you'll see that the design details are quite finely drawn (as in skinny) and I'm not convinced that one strand of floss would cover the transfer pencilmarks, as they tend to be a bit wider and don't wash out, at least when I use them. Yours might be different, but just be careful there.

I'm on the run this morning, but next week I'll do a little binding tutorial, and give you some resources for further embroidery patterns, books, and kits. I used simple backstitch and running stitch on these towels, almost exclusively, and those stitches are very beginner-friendly. My computer is not happy with me today and apparently isn't going to let me look up links here, and I'm moving too quickly today to fuss with it and reboot my computer seventeen and a half times like I did yesterday, agh.

I think my grandma would be happy with these dishtowels, but I can tell you right now that she would never in a bobillion years have attached binding to a dishtowel by hand, as I'm doing. (I'm doing a different calico that reminds me of her on each one.) I'd be a little conflicted about it myself if I didn't enjoy attaching binding so much. It's a fancier, more precious-seeming treatment, and not super practical. That's okay since I've now decided we'll only be looking at them, and not using them. Ev-er. Andy saw one of the towels in the kitchen last night and said, "Can I use this?" and I was suddenly, surprisingly, like, "Er . . . um . . . um . . . um . . . no, give it here." And I took it and put it in the living room. Hrmmmm.

I know. Not very typical of "oh-good-grief-who-cares!" me when it comes to functional crafting. I say use it, baby. But these make me want to not only clean the kitchen, but completely remodel it so that it is worthy of these precious floursacks. Sigh.

Dishtowel Thinking

I worked on the dishtowels all weekend and finished the embroidery part last night. I couldn't resist getting a bunch of new little 1/2 yards of fabric as I tried to pick something for the binding. I'll work on the binding edges tonight and hopefully finish many of them to show you tomorrow, and have the pattern, at least, available by the weekend. I'm very pleased with these.

I thought about my grandma a whole lot while I was doing these towels. For some reason they just reminded me of her and her kitchen so much, even though the items I pictured are things from mine. My grandparents bought their first house when they were in their seventies; previous to that they owned several apartment buildings on the west side of Chicago and in Oak Park, the last being at 209 S. Oak Park Avenue, on the corner of Pleasant Street across from St. Edmund Church and school. I lived in this building until I was three, when in 1972 my parents bought our house in River Forest, but my grandparents continued to own "the building" for many years afterwards, living there as landlords. We girls spent a lot of time with them. They moved to their little ranch house in River Forest, just across the park from our house, sometime in the early '80s, I think. We lived a block west but on the other side of a tall railroad trestle that bordered both our street on the east and theirs on the west, and so their back yard led onto the wooded hill that lofted those tracks about twenty feet above the houses. It ran along the length of our streets, and across the town, headed northwest to Minnesota and beyond. That was the Soo Line, and the sound of its locomotives and freight cars rolling along the tracks across from our house was a constant companion of my childhood, and I think my love of trains developed there. I miss the sound of that steady, soulful thing, especially at night, so much. Our neighborhood was an urban place, yet so sleepy and wooded because of the tracks, and the park, and that's what I always loved about living in River Forest, and still miss. I think living in the house was very quiet for my grandparents, compared to when they owned the building, in the middle of businesses and restaurants near the El tracks and the intersections, and had dozens of tenants to attend to. They were city people. I wonder if they liked that River Forest quiet. I don't know. I think they were probably lonely there.

My grandma wore what she called "housedresses" every day, and those were made of calicos of the kind that I feel nostalgic and even very emotional about now — tiny prints on dark backgrounds, usually navy or black. She made all the dresses herself, and they were very simple A-line dress without linings or facings, just trimmed in contrast-colored bias tape, with two big patch pockets on the front and probably a keyhole neckline that tied in the back with long ends of bias tape. My sissy and I were on the phone yesterday talking about fabric, and grandma's dresses, and where they were (all gone now). My mom was here over the weekend and I showed her the dishtowels and the fabric I had chosen for the trim and she immediately exclaimed, "That's so grandma!" without me even telling her what I was going for, so I felt I'd gotten it right.

When I think of my grandparents' little kitchen, I think about afternoons, and their table, covered in oilcloth, where my grandpa sat and peeled a yellow apple with a paring knife every single day. I think about the ridged, rectangular coconut cookies they bought every week from Dominick's. I think about this aqua blue plastic holder that they always had for their 1/2 gallon milk container, to make it easier to pour. I think about how disappointed my grandma was that her stove in the house was electric, and she never really got over that. As I write this, I suddenly realize that I've talked about it before. The images bubble up, usually the same, some absent, some new, but so . . . few, and always fraught with longing. Sometimes I feel like I could just sit and write about my grandma all day, even what little I know. When I buy little pieces of fabric, I feel closer to her. Those fabrics feel like home when home is gone.

Fat-Tuesday Indulgence

Well, okay after reading the comments yesterday and seeing how many people have had trouble with the silicone bakers and soap, I'm not feeling so bad! The only other silicone baker I've used was the brownie pan I used for Brownie Disaster II — and I'm not saying the pan caused the disaster, just that I didn't get to taste the brownies to say if they tasted like soap because I'd already ruined them in so many ways, but they might've tasted like soap too, I don't know. Could be the type of soap we use. Someone suggested that the lemon juice could've reacted with the baking soda — that seems possible, too, if it happens when it's baking, because I tasted the batter before baking and it tasted delicious. My guess is that, since I washed the bakers in the dishwasher before using them, there was still soap left on them. So — if you are going to use these, it makes sense to wash them in very mild soap by hand, and rinse well. I didn't even think of that — but now that I do think of it, we always wash our Silpats by hand, as the directions indicate, and never have trouble with them. I forgot about those. I just thought that it says to wash by hand because they didn't want them getting whipped around in the dishwasher or something. But I think it's more because of the soap. Anyway, you get the picture. Silicone and soap = not so good.

These are Coq au Vin Rosettes, a variation on a recipe in an old magazine I have from 2002 called 100 Ideas: Comfort Cooking Recipes from Better Homes and Gardens Special Interest Publications. It seems like just the right fattening thing for Fat Tuesday. . . .

Coq au Vin Rosettes

1 lb. boneless skinless chicken breasts or thighs
3 c. sliced fresh mushrooms
1 medium diced onion
2 T. butter
1/2 c. white wine
1/2 t. pepper
1 t. salt
8 packaged dried lasagna noodles
1 c. chicken stock
4 oz. cream cheese
1/2 c. sour cream
2 T. flour
1/2 c. milk
1 c. shredded Gruyere cheese

1. Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Cut chicken into 1" pieces. In a large skillet, cook mushrooms and onion in hot butter over medium-high heat for about 8 minutes until tender, stirring occasionally (you want to leave them alone a bit to get some caramelization going). Add chicken, pepper, and salt and cook until chicken is no longer pink. Add wine and simmer until alcohol evaporates and you are left with just a few tablespoons of liquid in pan. Remove from heat.

2. Meanwhile, cook lasagna noodles in boiling salted water until almost done; drain. Return to pan and toss with a tablespoon of olive oil to keep noodles from sticking. Halve each noodle lengthwise. Curl each noodle half into a 2 1/2" diameter ring and place, cut side down, in an ungreased 3-quart rectangular baking dish. With a slotted spoon, spoon chicken mixture into center of lasagna rings, reserving liquid in skillet. Add the chicken stock to the liquid and heat until simmering. Add the cream cheese to the liquid and heat until cream cheese is just melted. Remove from heat.

3. In a small bowl, stir together sour cream and flour. Stir in milk. Add sour cream mixture to liquid in skillet. Cook and stir over medium heat until thickened and bubbly. Spoon sauce over pasta rings, covering noodle edges so they don't dry out. Sprinkle with shredded Gruyere.

4. Bake, covered, for about 35 minutes or until heated through.

These are super yummy, especially with a nice salad or perhaps some roasted veggies on the side. Make them if you didn't get enough pancakes for breakfast (since it is Pancake Day — and thanks Christine for this awesome pancake-making video and a response to it). It seems wrong that I didn't make pancakes this morning but I'm crazy like that.

Thank you so much for all the info on smocking, and pleating, and pleating machines! Wow cool! I have to say that I actually prefer the more rustic-looking hand-pleated version, and I don't actually even mind pleating the foundation by hand because I like that kinda thing, but it is very good to know that I should continue to do that down the length of things, which makes sense. I never did get out to get a smocking book last week but I really do need to run some errands today, so I will. I can put off the errands no longer. For some reason all I want to do is stay home and pleat and stitch and cook and embroider dishtowels (ooooooh, can't wait to show you — I'm on "Sunday" now, so almost done). I am just so loving having a little time to do this stuff, especially after all the editorial stuff (words words words, red pens, pages, Aleve, memos, sticky notes, more words, more Aleve). I swear I've started a half a dozen just-me projects (the chair pads, the papercuts, the smocked bag, the dishtowels, a cross-stitch pattern I'm finally finishing the chart for, I don't even know what else) in the past two weeks. But it's been so great. I was waiting a long time to get to make some things for myself and it's like, once set loose, I just exploded all over the craft supplies. Sobbing. "I've missed you guys! I love you guys!!!" Start one thing, start another, start another. Gathering them all up in my arms and collapsing in a satisfied, yarny-flossy-ginghamy heap of sobbing joy. Aaahhhh. Good. Doesn't take much to make me happy, I tell ya. I know I have to get back to making things for my web shop, but for now this feels so good. I'm taking my own advice for once. I can dish it out, just can't take it.

Warm

I was invited to go to a school pancake breakfast (and by the way, did you know that today starts Pancake Week? And I didn't make that up? Yay Pancake Week! Thanks Tara!) with some of my neighborhood elementary-school friends, but it got cancelled this morning because of the weather. It's not bad here, on our street at least, but I'm watching the Today show where they're showing pictures from the Midwest and it is frozen out there. Yipes. If you can swing it, I highly recommend a warm bowl of Malt-O-Meal. Sprinkled with a little bit of cinnamon sugar, the warm bowl is really a time-machine back to childhood snow days, I think.

By the way, speaking of bowls, when we were in Seattle a few weeks ago having breakfast with Blair we stopped in at a new-to-me Polish pottery shop at Pike Place Market (they don't seem to have a web site) and, B, I haven't stopped thinking about it since. Now I want new dishes. Or a few new dishes. My dishes, these solid, white standbys, have been with us for years — I got them all for a quarter per piece from a guy I knew who used to own a restaurant and was getting rid of it all. They're good, but seriously: Look at these. Gah. Maybe just a few? A few little Malt-o-Meal bowls? A sugar and creamer set? I can't decide what pattern I like. I like the little calico cream-and-blues. Well they're all pretty much calico cream-and-blues. I think I like the Morning Delight. I don't know, it's all just beautiful.

The embroidered dishtowel above is an old Martha from Kmart, which seemed appropriate because I've been designing a set of embroidered days-of-the-week dishtowels myself. I'm going to make them available in some format or another, either as a simple download pattern (do you hate transferring patterns?), or possibly a set of iron-ons (prefer to iron them on?) with a whole kit — I don't know, I haven't decided yet. My idea is to update the towels with, instead of teapots, images of heart-shaped pancake molds and pastry bags — the things I really use in my kitchen. I'll keep you posted on this, as I'm very excited about it! We go through dishtowels like Kleenex around here. I made lots of them as gifts before I had a blog so I don't have any photos, but I've never made any for myself. Anyway, blah blah. Just excited.

Lastly, I just wanted to say thank you for something. I just want to say thank you for welcoming Miss Clover Meadow as you have done these past four months. I don't talk about it very very much, because sometimes I have trouble saying things that are very important to me, but . . . thank you for being so kind to and enthusiastic about her. She is in every way as beautiful and wonderful as her auntie and, strangely, she also lets me cuddle her constantly (which is very much not like her dear, independent auntie) and . . . just thank you for so warmly and so sincerely welcoming our little four-leaf Clover. It means a lot to us.