Posie Gets Cozy

Navy Skirty (WIP #1)

Navy skirty, pretty cute. It's baby-wale corduroy, very soft, with topstitching done by hand with six strands of tan embroidery floss. Cool folky buttons which you can't really see very well. This is Simplicity pattern 2758, view E. Ish. Longer. Skinnier waistband since I misread the instructions and only cut one instead of two of fabric, and by the end of Wednesday afternoon was too lazy to go back and unfold the extra fabric and recut it and do it the right way. So I just folded it over twice and made it skinnier. Fine. Next one I'll put the pockets on lower. A lot lower. Love the pleat, though. Taking photos of a navy-blue skirt is like taking photos of a black doggie: Light absorbers. (The other stuff in the photo is all thrifted. This is the wall of the dining room [which is as dark as a cave today].) Susan asked how I keep track of where I am in each WIP and I thought, "Oh, yeah! I should do that!" So I guess that is the answer: I just push things aside and then pick them up months later in confusion: "What is this? Oh . . . yeah . . . that [vague, dawning memory seeping in, no notes or indications where to pick up, general frustration with self and lazy habits, etc.]."

While I was making this: Ding-dong! The UPS man dropped off this skirt from Boden, almost exactly the same shape. With cable tights and boots: a winter uniform. Now for somewhere to go! Not today though: I am tiiiiired. Long week. Feel like ordering curry, getting under a pile of pets, and watching a movie tonight. What are your favorite movies that take place in contemporary London? Like really take place in London, where you can see London and the city feels integral to the movie? Kind of like Love, Actually or About a Boy. I love both of those. I have been meaning to ask this for a while! Thank you!

Works in Progress

(Crochet hook case made by my dear friend Megan, though she is no longer making them.)

1. Midnight blue corduroy skirt with pockets and running stitches FINISHED

2. Olive-green weird corduroy skirt with pockets and running stitches

3. Rust colored corduroy skirt with you guessed it

4. Pink and purple striped socks

5. Peach, brown, and cream Fair Isle socks

6. Blue, brown, and cream Fair Isle socks (no relation)

7. Blue Fair Isle sweater

8. Pink Fair Isle sweater

9. Crocheted smocked baby dress

10. Stripey wristwarmers (smaller) FINISHED

11. Three Autumnhouse pillows (like Summerhouse Pillows but for winter) SCRAPPED

12. Christmas present for someone related to me that reads this blog FINISHED

13. Christmas present for someone else related to me that reads this blog FINISHED

14. Christmas present for someone else related to me that doesn't read this blog but who is getting the same thing as the other two so I still can't say FINISHED

15. Other family Christmas presents I haven't decided on yet SCRAPPED

16. Andy's Christmas present

17. Book

Too much. Something's gotta give. These are not all for Christmas — it's just a list of everything that I have started. But still.

The other night Andy came upstairs and said, "Violet's in your yarn bowl.

Me [pausing]: "My what?"

He [enunciating]: "Your yarn bowl. Go down and see."

So I went down there.

Oh. Violet's in my yarn bowl.

Farmer's Daughter Apron

Remember the apron I was making a few weeks ago?

I finished it!

I am so happy with it. It's exactly what I was going for (rare). It's generous and sort of . . . serious. Pretty but serious. Makes you feel like you can bake a ribbon-winning pie. I love long aprons — baker's aprons — the ones that really cover you, with long, generous ties (ahem).

The apron is made of linen, and trimmed with binding tape (not bias cut, just straight). It's about eight yards of binding! I don't like full aprons that just have a neck loop and then tie separately at the waist. The neck loop is never in the right place for me. These ties attach at the top of the bib, cross in back, go through loops at the waistline, cross again, and come to the front to be tied in a bow. Doing them this way makes the apron really adjustable, so it fits better.

The embroidery is a couple of Swedish floral designs I put together, done entirely in satin stitch (with two strands of cotton embroidery floss) and outlined with dark brown back stitch. I picked up some of the flower colors that were in that dark brown calico (from JoAnn's, many years ago now).

My friend Sarah and I finally saw Julie & Julia a couple of days ago and we loved it, especially the Julia parts. The clothes. The kitchens. The . . . everything. Her aprons — long, straight, serious. French. It was all so beautiful. I've got to see the movie again and just watch the sets and costumes this time. I went right home and cleaned the kitchen. And stared happily at my apron. I'm going to do the ties and binding a bit differently on the next one (have the side-bodice binding turn into the ties, and also, bind it completely by machine). (To be honest, and fully disclose my lunacy, I did the binding on this one by machine and hand.) There are plans for a next one — next four ones. (Three are already in progress. All different colors. I told you, I'm crazed.) There is a special someone's birthday coming up, and I am going to make three more for my mom and sweet sissies for Christmas. My sister Susie is an actual pastry chef, too — how cool is that.

This one is for me, though. My uniform for fall baking. Hmmm, what should I make . . . something French? Not a tarte tatin, though. I made one of those last year and I didn't really like it (quel dommage!). Something from Baking with Julia, maybe, because it's now (naturally) in my TiVo queue. Or maybe these chocolate souffles.

Wasn't Meryl Streep so amazing as Julia? Magical.

Arden's Quilt

On a Friday afternoon in mid-summer, we got a late start on our shopping because the dog had gotten stung in the nose by a bee, and we didn't want to leave her alone with her big, sad nose. We made pizza dough together and set it aside to rise in time for dinner at five. We looked at the quilts I had made that were here and there around the house and we talked about quilts, and what they are, and how they get made (stuff gets cut up, messed around with, and put back together). Andy arrived home around three to hang out with the dog, so we headed out to the fabric store to get the material. Arden and I had to be home by the time the dough had risen!

I had done some math beforehand so I knew exactly what we would need. We grabbed a cart and headed toward the quilting cottons. I told her to pick out a solid color (hot pink) and then we would pick out six prints (I'd written the pattern for ten, but I knew that settling on six would be plenty). We looked at the pinks and talked about how pinks were different — some were more yellow, some were more blue. She tried to decide between two of them and put her eye right up close to the fabric, about an inch away: a secret "Pick Me" message encoded in the weave? I tried not to bust out giggling [or sobbing — so, so sweet] and told her to stand about eight feet away while I held big swaths of the fabrics up next to each other, and then it was obvious: That one. (Turns out, you have to actually stand back to see the secret message.) We thunked the bolt into the cart and zoomed off toward the prints. We were guided by the preferences she'd mailed me a few weeks before: hot pink, lime green, sky blue, and purple, in stripes, big flowers, and no tiny calicos. Check. Down the aisles of bolts we raced.

     "How about this one?"
     "I love that one! [Thunk.] How about this one?"
     "I love that one!" [Thunk.]
     "How about this one?"
     "Yes!" [Thunk.]
     "These are so cute!"
     "I know, these are adorable!"

Thunk, thunk, thunk thunk. The cart filled up. Thunk. Thunk. Back and forth we went, congratulating each other on our choices.

     "I love the little sqares you picked out!"
     "I know! I love the stripes, too!"
     "This is gonna be so cute!"
     "I know! This is going to be adorable!"
     "Totally! And are you not just totally psyched to have such an awesomely cool aunt to make you your very own quilt?!" 
     "Totally!!!"

We picked out the backing (white with bright yellow polka dots). It was already 4:15 and we would need a half-hour to get everything cut and make it home. As fast as we were going, however, it wasn't fast enough. We were picking out the binding when suddenly someone was ready to be done.

     "Aunt Alicia, I'm starving! I am so hungry! I'm so hungry I can't even shop anymore!"
     "Oh my goodness! Well, then you'd better start running back toward that corner so we can get the batting!"
     "Back where it says 'BATTING'?"
     "That's the one!"

I sped along behind her, cart rattling in alarm. We got everything we needed and had it cut, then zoomed back home to check on our dough and start on our pizza before someone keeled over from sheer hunger. Once the 'za was in the oven, we went out back and took a picture of our goods:

I started sewing the next day. The quilt was small — a throw quilt, perfect for sitting under while reading Warriors, or snuggling up with to watch Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium. I'd finished it by Sunday, tossed it in the wash, and then folded it neatly. It waited on the sideboard until last week, when I gave it to her at the park.

We named it the Raspberry Lemonade Quilt, because it reminded us of raspberries, and lemonade, and other summertime treats we love.

Like summer afternoons together, in general.

And really just all things dreamy and, oh, just all things so very, very precious and sweet. So very sweet. xoxo

Calico Blossom Fever

Many hexes! Yes, we're still here on the hexes. It's true that once you start you'd better settle in, 'cause you can't stop. Well, scratch that — you'll stop once you get a tender makings of a callous on your finger (if you're one of those people, like me, who can't use a thimble but prefer to sew through the papers, and not just baste the seam allowances at each corner) and that's probably a good sign, anyway, that you should get up and go outside. I was getting over my cold and didn't feel like doing anything, so it was good medicine.

Also, I was just liking these colors together: milky blues, apricots, Bellini peaches, lilac-y pinks. The weensy pincushion was a gift from my friend Aimee who is the stylist at Cargo — you might still be able to get one there, I don't know.

I'm still not sure what I will do with all of them, ultimately. I did put a few on the wrap skirt I whipped up (same as these). I've been kind of a hand-binding machine lately. In the past few weeks, I've finished binding two quilts (one was little, granted) and a wrap skirt by hand. Then I hand-appliqued three of the blossoms to the skirt. Wore it to the bagel shop and had a chicken-salad sandwich. Yes, that's as exciting as my life has been lately.

Thrillsville.

Hexagon Piecing

Oooooh, I had a feeling. I had a feeling these would be addictive. I've wanted to do this — English paper piecing — for a while but I wasn't sure I could handle another distraction. I'm still not sure I can handle it, but let's just say I am completely distracted now.

Before I go on in this direction, I will say that I did finish Arden's quilt already. I just need to photograph it. So I am, at least, a little bit collected. I'm about to go into a collected trot here, to use a horsey term. A collected hexagonal trot.

Here's how you do this: Get a whole bunch of hexagon papers (do yourself a favor and splurge on these already die-cut heavyweights. Mine were $19.00 for 600 1"- [2.5cm-] sided hexagons, and they are totally reusable, so to me, this is a purchase that is well-worth the money, since your wrist will already be getting enough of a workout without having to cut out all of those hexes yourself). Then cut a whole bunch of 2 1/2" (63mm) squares of your favorite quilting cottons with a rotary cutter, self-healing cutting mat, and clear plastic ruler. (If you want to make a different-sized hex, the size of your square will vary relative to the size of the hex; a chart to help yo determine how big to cut your squares is here.) Then get a straight pin, a sharp, hand-sewing needle, and some cotton thread (the same stuff you'd use in your sewing machine).  Pin the hex to the wrong side of the squa, fold the fabric over each edge of the hex, and baste (through the paper) in place. I tied knots on the front sides of the hex in both the beginning and the ends of the basting thread because it is easy to (after the hex is stitched to six other hexes) remove the basting thread from the front by clipping each stitch and pulling on the knots.

Many tutorials that I found on-line and in some old books that I have want you to trim the fabric into a hex, leaving a 1/4" (6mm) seam allowance, but that seems like extra work, and if the Paper Pieces peeps say you don't have to, I believe them. Wrapping full squares worked just fine for me. To stitch two hexes together, just place them with their right sides together and whipstitch along the top edge, being careful not to stitch through the paper — just grab a few threads from each hex and make small, even stitches.

I stitched twice through each corner and knotted at each end. I'm sure there's a way to carry your thread around to stitch each seam of the hex (to another hex), but that proved to be too much for my addled brain to manage, so I just finished off every seam before starting the next. Here's another view of one seam, kind of tilted open:

 

To make a flower, I stitched all of the hexes to the center hex, then once all six sides of any hex are attached to other hexes, you can clip the basting stitches and take the paper out. This allows you to fold that center hex, making it easy to stitch the sides of the other hexes together to form the petals.

This is not sewing for the faint of heart — when I was at Fabric Depot buying the hexagon papers, I was asked by the saleslady what my pain threshold was, and I answered emphatically, "High!" (And by the way, my cutting mat, pin holder, and most of my tiny calicos come from Fabric Depot, though I have an enormous stash of calicos, collected over twenty years, so a lot of fabrics that you see me use come just from my own shelves. I have been getting a lot of questions about fabric lately, so I will do a whole post about that soon, and give you some great local sources when my head is more unstuffed.) Sewing hexes takes some precision and patience, but if you have those tendencies (and I would say I do, generally, unless it really doesn't matter, and then I don't), you will like these. I think this is a nice tutorial that will get you started on a little placemat and doesn't make things more complicated than necessary.

I still haven't decided exactly what I will do with mine, though I have a few ideas. One is to stitch at least a few of them to a oatmeal-linen wrap skirt that I bound the edges of with one of the fabrics that's in the hexes. There's also potholders, bags, placemats, pillows, stuff like that. Another idea is to make little collections of similar flowers and then cluster them together in random groups, and then cluster the random groups together, and then applique the whole big cluster to a whole cloth, either a runner, or a tablecloth, or maybe even a quilt. That would be a seriously massive project. I don't know if my pain threshold is that high. It's high, but I don't know if it's that high. I only have five flowers done, so perhaps I am getting ahead of myself.

Another Thing to Do with Square Patches

The cold I'd been trying to dodge for a few days (with Andy Paulson chasing me around the furniture, trying desperately to give me his sore throat and stuffed up nose) finally sacked me yesterday, and I wound up flopped on the sofa by the open windows for the afternoon, watching it rain. I brought some square patches (2 1/2" [63mm], the same size I used for the small-patch pillows) and some hexagon papers with me. When I got up to go get some (hearty, gross) juice, someone quickly scooped up my cozy seat.

"Okay?"

"You know you always let me do exactly whatever I want."

"That is our unspoken agreement."

"Besides, what else do you have to do with your life other than take pictures of us pets?"

Nothing, that's what.

Except (now) make hexagons.

(Show you tomorrow.)

Berries and Cream

Ah, morning. . . . My favorite time of day. Especially early morning. The earlier the better, in my opinion.

It's been really lovely waking up under the new quilt this week, I must say. It's such a nice weight (thin) and it's all puckery and soft and floppy. The colors are sort of warm but still very fresh and clear — I don't much like muddy, earthy colors. I like different shades of pale pink together. There are so many shades of pink, and they all look beautiful together, to me.

I love little tiny flowers, little sprinkles of flowers like a Clover Meadow, like a field of Queen Anne's lace in the sunlight, like the fireflies that glittered above the pasture the time we were camping in Minnesota on the way to our wedding. I love flowers that fall like confetti in the grass. I love little puffball-pink clover flowers, scattered over the park. I love the meadow on the other side of the woods where we rode our horses every morning at horse camp, where the grass came up to the stirrups. I love sitting in a muslin dress on the lawn, eating ice cream from a latte bowl.

I love all those things.

I really enjoyed making this quilt, spending long afternoons in front of the central-air vent with Clover Meadow Pinkytoes Paulson, watching the Love Saga movies on the Hallmark Channel, making raspberry iced tea for Andy and eating blueberry cake. It was really nice to have that little collection of long, quiet weekend days right in the middle of a busy summer. Bliss.

As making quilts goes, it doesn't get any easier than this. Here is the pattern, sized from crib quilt to king-size. It's similar to the Lemoncello Quilt, but machine quilted instead of tied, and the patches are a bit smaller. The pattern is step-by-step and fully illustrated, so it'll walk you through everything, including binding (by machine-and-hand). (And by the way, when you print PDFs out at home? Be sure to choose your printer's "best" quality, because it will make quite a difference in how well the photos print, and these are all hi-res print-quality images.) When making quilts, I kind of do things my own way, and my pattern reflects that. But it works for me. A fabric-store lady once told me that the best quilts are Fast, Fun, and Finished, and man, did I take that to heart this time. The Ollalieberry Ice Cream Quilt was all of those things.

And a little bit more, I must say.

Common Sewing Challenges

When you are forced to leave your vent because you've finished sewing the quilt top and now it's time to make the quilt sandwich, and you've moved some furniture and thrown the 102"-wide muslin fabric you got for the backing on the floor, and then you leave the room for five seconds to go get the masking tape so that you can tape the muslin down, and you come back to someone giving you a long-suffering look, which seems to say

"Why are you making me lie here on this fabric like this?"

then you must have a corgi.

If you leave your vent and spend two hours crawling around on your knees pinning the quilt sandwich together, and then spend eight hours stitching the quilt together, and then you want to sit down in the comfy chair and take all the safety pins out but as soon as you sit down you realize you need to get up and go get the bowl in which to put the pins, and you come back five seconds later to someone lying on your quilt in what seems like an uncomfortable position, as if to say

"Why the heck are there a whole bunch of pins in this nice blanket?"

.

.

.

.

.

then you must have a corgi. Corgis are common sewing challenges I can't help you with. I'm sorry.

(Finished-quilt photos and info TK next week. :-)

Olallieberry Ice Cream Quilt

I put the sewing machine on the dining-room table. The chair was right in front of the vent where the coldest air blew the hardest and froze my legs, which made me happy. In that spot, I sewed 676 three-and-a-half-inch-square patches together, one by one by one by one. The majority of the patches were a pale, icy gray-pink, exactly the color of vanilla ice cream with a few of these special berries thrown in.

I have no idea what possessed me to stop doing virtually everything else and start making an enormous patchwork quilt in four days. I'm almost finished sewing the binding on. Must have been all that sewing talk. I've now done nothing — and I mean nothing — but sew for four straight days, since I refuse to leave my vent. Even though it only got up to 106 yesterday, and not 107, after all. Record-setting. My friend Shelly called in the afternoon and said, "You must have air conditioning. You're the only person I know who hasn't called me." She has a beautiful in-ground pool. She said she'd had twenty-three people over at her house in the past four days. A constant pool party. She said the place looked like a frat house, with more beer in the fridge than food. I told her I would love to come over except that there was just no possible way I could, because I cannot leave my vent. I can only get up to go into the second-coldest room in the house (the bathroom). I ran to my next-door neighbor's at some point to bring the iced tea, dropped it off, and immediately hot-footed it (paws on fire! Paws on fire!) back across the frizzed-out, burnt-up front lawn, back to my vent. We're going to Pickathon tomorrow, and I'm already having severe separation-anxiety about leaving my vent.

I love you, vent.