Happy New Year!

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Happy New Year, dear friends! I hope all is well with you, and that you had a wonderful bunch of holidays. Ours were truly wonderful. It's been so nice to just chill out and I really have. I got sick over new year's and spent a few days on the couch. For the past several afternoons even my little darling has slept next to me under her quilts while I've watched movies and drunk tea and knit and knit and knit. Favorite new movie: Music and Lyrics with Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore. I loved it. Light and frothy and funny (the scene where she "confronts" what's-his-face in the restaurant? I coughed so hard! That was hysterical!) and still moving (I love the amusement park scene, so sweet). Also watched About a Boy which is one of my faves. Going through a later–Hugh Grant thing. Watched the beginning of Mickey Blue Eyes, where Jeanne Triplehorn and Hugh Grant are running through the streets of New York, trying to make their dinner reservation. He is a few yards ahead of her and she is laughing and laughing and you don't really know why she's laughing but you assume she's just having fun, and she finally stops and doubles over and says something like, "Stop! No more, seriously! Just run normal!" And he looks all faux-wounded and Hugh Grant–ish and he's like, "Run normal? This is my normal run." And she goes, "Oh! I'm sorry! I've never seen you run and I thought you were doing a funny run!"

:))))) Ha!

Someone was very excited about her new play kitchen! Oh yes, I was, and I even let Amelia play with it because I am just cool like that, people!!!

The other night I was lying next to Amelia before putting her to bed and I thought of about ten resolutions I wanted to make for 2015. Even as I was thinking of them I was trying to think of ways not to forget what they were, because it was dark in the room and I didn't have paper or pencil or phone or anything to write them down. And sure enough, the only two I can remember now (besides the private ones) are "Try not to be such a jerk about the hot weather in the summer" and "Try not to be such a jerk in general." I wish I could remember the others because I think there were some good ones in there but I guess these are a good place to start.

Love and Joy

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I do like how, after all that bustle and speed, the end of the year sort of rolls into the station slowly, somehow. The day after tomorrow is Christmas, and I'm already anticipating the quiet hush that will follow, when the streets are empty, and there's not much to expect from anything or anyone. Ooooh, sweet joy of nothing to do. The days are short but feel so long and languid. I'm so ambivilent about solstice: the return of the light . . . but already? I'm not ready. Maybe it's a Pacific Northwestern thing. Look how green our winterwoods glow! Stay longer, dusky days. Bring me quilts and pillows and pets and picture books. The sky is dark, dull, lavender with rain. Inside, our candles light our mornings, noons, and nights and the time — this lovely, luminous December-time — has been filled with the magic of our tiny girl, learning how to say Christmas tree. Snowflake. My lights. My Christmas tree. Hi, Christmas tree! Waving. On Sunday night as she was bouncing around the place well past bedtime I said to her, "Are you excited?" And she said, "YES."

From the bottom of my heart, I wish you all peace, and good health, and much happiness, and send lots of love from us here. Thank you for the gift of your encouragement, reassurances, and kindnesses, the thousands of kindnesses you show here all the year, every year. My cup overflows. May love and joy come to you, and your every wish come true. I wish you peace, from all of us.

With love always,
Alicia, Andy, Mimi, Clover Meadow, and The Bee

Good Cheer

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This season, it goes too fast. I want to draw out every day and wrap these moments around me like a spiral of sparkling lights. Christmas in Dairyville, walks to our neighborhood bakery, and having latkes with our neighbor, Amelia's official bubbe. I want to stay and chat but I need to rush off to a toddler holiday pageant. Have a wonderful weekend, be well, and enjoy all of it. Every little thing. Xoxo

***A few answers to recent questions: Our star lights in the window in the previous post are from Ikea; the chocolate-ginger-molasses cookie recipe I used is here (I thought they needed more sugar); the sugar cookie recipe is here (it's a great recipe); I got all of the sprinkles from Whole Foods. Mimi's nightgown pattern is vintage, McCall's 3798 from 1973. My dishes are all various patterns of Denby; the cups and saucers in the previous post are the Sherwood pattern. The snowflake mobile is many years old, from Pottery Barn Kids. Yes, Mimi's sweater is the recently completed Bloomsbury Kids. And no, she's not getting that pony for Christmas :( [cue crying from Mommy — wah!].

Winter Lights

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I just love December. It's really nice.

Winter Ways

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December days. The weather is dim, wet, the sky very low and filled with purple. Afternoons out, nights in, mornings dark with candlelit showers. Early Sunday morning I found myself driving out to Powell Butte where I sat in the morning-bright, cold-blowing wind and looked at the mountain. The sun rose, glowing white behind the thin layer of clouds. I had hot coffee, and one of those jacket-hoods with fake fur, a zipper that went up to my nose, and drawstrings, which I tightened. It was glorious.

Deep breath, in and out. The tree is trimmed, the lights are up, the parties are scheduled, the gifts have been shipped. There are cards to write and cookies to bake, but those are the things I look forward to. I'm still knitting the pink sideways coat. That thing is taking forever, and honestly, I'm not trying too hard to finish it. Andy's crocheting a great big whale, which is super rad. For the past few months, we've been putting together things for a tiny play kitchen for Mimi for Christmas. I'm quite sure I've already spent many more hours with it and and enjoyed it as much as she ever will (so. much. fun.) but I can hardly wait to play with it with her. The flannel sheets are on the bed, and I fall asleep before I can even open my book. I got a few chores done, and I feel like things are trickling now, and that's how I like it. That's how I like winter here. Slow, dark, and simple, molasses in a chocolate-ginger cookie. Because our girl's on a tolting run, most of the time. A beautiful whirlwind I counter-balance with hot tea and lots of sitting with my feet up at the end of the day.

I'm in search of a candlelight Christmas concert. Would you know of any pretty ones?

***I just read this post of Heather's — it's so lovely. She has such an honest, beautiful way with words, and motherhood, and everything.

Sunday Drive

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Over the river and through the woods we go to get our tree. Breakfast high on the cliff above the river, and a short drive further to the little farm. We don't chop our trees down ourselves. We just buy one of the ones that are already cut at the farm for $10 then go on the hayride around the field, twice. The hayride's the thing. Amelia squinting at the sun, pointing at the trees, wobbling on the bales, calling, "Wheeeee! Wheeeeeeeeee!" as we bump and rumble through the field. It smells good out there, fresh and green and cold. It's very cold. We drive a bit further on to see the sheep (which say, "Baaaaaaaaaaaaa! Baaaaaaa!" She does an uncanny impression). The late-afternoon sun is flaring through the moss-covered trees, which always makes me cry. The impossibly huge, impossibly white moutain gleams behind us. We wiggle back through the woods, nothing else to do. We turn up the music, take detours over hills and dales, feel old and new. My love runs into Starbucks and brings back hot chocolates. It's Sunday, and I'm Sunday driving, with a little tree in the back of the car and a little girl singing in her baby voice to herself in the back seat. I'd go around twice, if I could.

Let it begin, let it begin: The Christmas season is here. I found Milla's post (and its comments) very poignant. I think I was meant to be Finnish. I'm channeling Finnish Christmas. It's funny how Christmas makes you want things — things that have nothing to do with money. Our yard is dark with mud and muck. Bee the cat is sleeping in Amelia's sled, the one that's layered in buffalo-check polarfleece and hiding in the office until we go to the snow. My friend tells me about the ice-skating party she was invited to. There were kids, dogs, cocoa, and a bonfire. I howled with envy. Do you want to build a snowman? Yes, I do!

I cultivate a collection of candles. I make too many runs up to Pip's for cinnamon mini-doughnuts and their (quite awesome) chai (Heart of Gold) in the pouring rain. Amelia stands on her changing table in her pajamas and we look at the bright winter moon out her nursery window. The window is cold, condensation drifting like frost. "Bubbles," she says of the drops of water, and pulls her tiny finger along the glass. Goodnight tree. Goodnight stars. Goodnight moon. In the big bed, I listen to her snore softly beside me. I pull her hair out of her mouth, tuck her under the quilts, snuggle close. I say my prayers: Let me give. It's all here. Go slow, winter. Go slow.

 

Season of Thanks

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Gee whiz, hello, you! How are you? I've been here, there, and everywhere, and all of it was just lovely. I so wanted to be organized enough to wish you a Happy Thanksgiving on time, but the days seemed to evaporate; I sincerely hope your holiday weekend was like ours was, filled with good food and quiet joys and loved ones and all of the precious beauties that belong to this season and this season alone. This morning it was ice-cold, silver-gray, and the air was filled with woodsmoke. I stopped to get a hot chai and a cinnamon bun to munch in the car on my way to jury duty. When my name wasn't called and it was clear I and almost everyone else was dismissed, my heart leaped like a toy on a tight spring, and I drove back through the frosty morning feeling free and full of delight and gratitude, again. The rare gift of a free day at the end of a long weekend of gifts. I am so grateful for my blessings. I try to count them and I get choked up, and cannot speak. A world of wonders, daily. My heart is full.

Leaves crunch, wind swirls, birds huddle. Our big baby girl is talking, talking, suddenly opinionated, thrillingly swift, picking up words and letters and numbers so fast and so suddenly, all spoken in her sweet, lisping, earnest, excited trill. It's almost constant, this bird-like chatter, and oh, it is wonderful. Her eyes shine as she realizes she is understood, sees that she can participate in the conversation. She talks about things I don't even notice, and as I listen hard and try to understand her (because it's still quite tangled and laced with sounds I attempt to parse) so many times it turns out that she is talking about something I was totally oblivious of: The moon in the daytime sky! A leaf that fits just like a hat! Three trees that look like daddy, mommy, and baby! So many things I didn't see until she told me to look. I had no idea it would be this exciting and charming and funny and delightful and really, just utterly incredible, watching someone learn to talk. It's like magic, for all of us, effervescent and full of bubbles popping, glittering the freezing air.

Peace be with you, and joy, this blessed season. And magic. And great love. Xoxoxoxo.

Autumnglow

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At around four o'clock on several afternoons this week I've gone racing home from wherever I am to grab my camera and then careen back out to the east side of Mt. Tabor to try to catch the alpenglow on Mt. Hood. It's short-lived but so worth the race (I only have a 50% success rate in catching it so far). I've already got the sled, the toddler snowpants, the toddler snow mittens, the toddler snowcoat, all ready for when we actually go up there. Up there, to where the snow lives.

This week has been cold and blustery, nevertheless. To warm up, I made chicken curry and these things we always made when I was a kid, from one of my mom's Pillsbury cookbooks — we called them apple babies:

Apple Babies

Take a can of refrigerated crescent-roll dough and cut the triangles lengthwise so you have sixteen long, skinny triangles. Peel and core two apples and cut them into eight slices each. Starting at the fat end of the triangle, wrap each apple slice in dough. Put them in an 8" x 8" baking pan. Drizzle about 1/4 cup melted butter all over the tops of the babies. Sprinkle with cinnamon sugar (don't skimp). Add about 1/4 cup apple cider or orange juice or whatever you have to the pan, pouring it around but not on the apples. Bake in a 350-degree (F) oven until nicely browned. Serve plain or with a bit of cream. Try not to inhale all sixteen before other residents get home.

My curry was based on this recipe, though I used the shredded meat from a roasted chicken (I've been roasting or buying one every week, then making stock), didn't add the tomatoes or tomato paste (I'm not super keen on tomatoes), and did add a diced sweet potato, a diced Yukon gold potato, a bag of peas, and 2 tablespoons of brown sugar. Oh, and I used Dean & Deluca yellow curry powder (my favorite). If left to my own devices, I would probably eat some form of chicken and rice every single day. I should have a board for that. I'm still working my way through your suggestions for soups. There are so many amazing-looking ones; the comments on that post are like their own cookbook, I'm so excited. I made this potato-leek soup (photo above) and it was delicious (thank you, commenter Amelia!). You can't imagine how much this inspiration is helping me get back into the kitchen! Thank you all!

Today it's errands and a few chores, and haircuts, and getting a new binder, and getting some magnets, and taking the hose inside for the winter. Yesterday I bought candles and fake autumn flowers for the table (toddler-proof). I got placemats (toddler-proof), and made an appointment to have the windows measured for wooden blinds. A little bit of everything, and not too much at all, just the way I like these days. Slow and cold outside, warm and wooly in.

Have a good weekend, dear friends!

***Yep, that's the water room in the toddler area at (and the view from) our science museum, OMSI; Mimi's crocheted dress pattern is here; and she's showing you her thrifted prairie-girl dress, which I absolutely love and wish I had a pattern for (it's clearly homemade).

Baby Warm

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As the leaves turn and drop, and the winds blow and blow, and the rain falls, and the clouds cover, and the frost comes, and the heat turns on, and the fake fireplace glows, and the apple cake bakes, and the chicken with wild rice soup simmers, and the mountain gets whiter, and the nights get longer, and the golden mornings become more and more rare, I try to keep my baby warm. Sweet baby girl. All warm. Sweet and soft and warm. Dear girl.

Warm Little Things

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I had my handwriting analyzed when I was twenty-four. One of the (many) things it told me was that I was not spontaneous. This is true. I'm plodding. My one spontaneous act seems to be to start making a quilt at the exact time that I have lots of other things going on. It's really weird. It must be some sort of reflex. It's like just all of a sudden if I have all of five minutes to myself I walk, zombielike, to the rotary cutter and start slicing away at stacks of fabric. Before I know it, I have a basketful. In this case, I cut 2"-wide strips of dozens — I don't know how many — tons — way more than I needed — of the cutest, sweetest fabrics in my stash, to make a little quilt for my cutest-sweetest. Creams, pinks, blues, flowers, bunnies, dots. Tiny rosebuds and little elephants. Hedgehogs and purple cherries. Polka-dots (which she calls "bubbles") and baby cats (which she calls "ah-ahs").

Do you know how to make a log cabin quilt? It's a wonderful thing. My friend Susan taught me how to do it. It's so easy. I don't do it exactly clockwise. I just do it randomly. It might be clockwise, but it might not be. I just go. When the blocks are done, you add the blue strips, horizontally between blocks and then a long strip of vertical "logs" with 2" squares at each intersection. I used wool batting, and then a grayish polka-dot flannel for the back. Cream-colored cotton with little lavender dots for the binding (which is done by machine and by hand). This one I'm going to tie (which is how I did this one and this one [and this is just plain funny]). I don't always tie them; sometimes I have them professionally finished. But I want to tie this one. I like how soft and floppy they are when you tie them.

We also made cinnamon baked doughnuts. They were delish. Ish. Maybe too much vanilla? Is that possible? Two teaspoons of vanilla is a lot. I think next time I'll leave out the vanilla and leave out the cinnamon in the batter. (I always leave out the nutmeg, in everything but bechamel. I don't like it in anything else.) The doughnuts were a little too . . . something. I can't put my finger on it. Almost perfect, though. The concept, in general, worked very nicely!

Been making soups, too. Will tell you about that, too. Thank you again for the inspiration! Still getting everything pinned!

***If you eat as many Mandarin oranges as we do you can simmer the peels with a few cloves and cardamom pods (and some cinnamon sticks, whatever you like) in a bit of water on a back burner throughout the day (don't forget about it; add more water as needed). It makes the house smell really wonderful.

About Alicia Paulson

About

My name is Alicia Paulson
and I love to make things. I live with my husband and daughter in Portland, Oregon, and design sewing, embroidery, knitting, and crochet patterns. See more about me at aliciapaulson.com

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Photography

Photography

Since August of 2011 I've been using a Canon EOS 60D with an EF 18-200mm kit lens and an EF 100mm f/2.8 Macro lens.