Puttering and Decluttering

I've been puttering in the sewing room this past week, mostly on non-sewing, organization type stuff.  I'm waiting for a pattern and fabric to arrive that I ordered from Etsy for my nephew's quilt.  I'm still rehabbing my left finger/hand and not up to free-motion quilting just yet, so it felt like a good time to tidy things up in the sewing room.

 I finally (FINALLY!) put away all the thrifted shirt fabrics that had been stacked on the corner of a sewing table for years (yes, YEARS!).  Of course, in the meantime, I'd added more shirts to the pile.  I think I was afraid they wouldn't all fit back into the large three-drawer rolling cart they came out of and that I'd need to rethink storage (or, you know, make a quilt or three), so I put it off and put it off.  But lo and behold, they all fit into the drawers just fine, and I was able to roll that cart under my sewing table and free up some precious floor space.  Woo-hoo!  

Then I sorted the rest of my mask-making supplies and put them into a much smaller, shoebox-size plastic tote.  I'd been using t-shirt strips for the mask ear loops, so whatever was left of the t-shirts got cut up for dust rags.  That felt good, too.

I hung some 12-inch cork squares on my wall.  Another long procrastinated on project (again, YEARS) that took me all of 15 minutes to do.  Why do I procrastinate on these things? I wondered.  I was never going to have the "perfect" spot for them, so I just stuck them to a "good enough" place on the painted concrete wall of the basement.  Now I finally have someplace to pin things (pattern directions, sample blocks).  I was skeptical whether the adhesive would hold to the concrete, but I slapped them up anyway and if they fall off, they fall off.*  They were doing me no good in the package. (*Unfortunately, between the time I started writing this post a day or two ago and now, they did indeed fall off the wall...wah-wah-wah...but at least now I know what doesn't work, I guess?)

I also decided it was time  to deal with the vintage '60s or '70s fabrics I've been collecting over the past 10 or so years.  They'd been just sitting on a shelf, waiting for who knows what.  

Was I going to sell them? Make something with them? Donate them to the local community theater for costumes? Drive them back to Goodwill?.  

I love the neon bright colors and wild patterns, but they're all synthetics/poly and not something I'd be able to quilt with.  

Call me sentimental, but I wanted to remember them after they were gone, so I draped them on my headless mannequin, Dolly, so I could take some photos.  On a lark, I posted them on Facebook where a friend fell instantly in love and asked if she could buy all of them!  I told her she could have them for the cost of postage.  

So I packed them up in a large flat-rate box and shipped them off to North Carolina.  She's already received them and is so excited.  That makes me happy!  Another thing that languished for years on a shelf, but is now finally moved on to a fellow vintage fabric aficionado.  

I think there is something about clearing out and making space for other things or energy.  That sounds kind of woo-woo, but for me I know that when my clutter/stuff/disorganization threshold edges toward its upper limit, my creative mojo takes a dive.  Clearing things out gives me a more balanced feeling and like I'm making space for creativity and new opportunity.  Does that resonate with you, too?  

Where things kind of ran aground was when I was sorting through old patterns...so many vintage patterns from my mom and other relatives, friends, and those I've picked up at thrift stores and garage sales.  In the past, I've shared some with other sewers whom I've met through blogging, and I've sold some online.  At this point, I was just taking stock of what all was there in the bins and drawers that I might want to do something with to whittle down the collection.

(Glad I missed out on this "fun fad.")

Well, that ended in a case of the giggles!  The more I looked, the sillier some of the old patterns struck me!

(1970-When dressing like a naughty nurse in junior high was all the rage.)

Thank goodness some things have changed...like "chubby sizes" for girls (or "husky" for boys).

(Always a good idea to read the fine print...)

(Ah, the 1960s, when fat shaming was all a part of growing up.)

Culturally and societally, this was the water I grew up swimming in.  Now I look back at some of the stuff that was "normal" and have to laugh, or, in some cases, shake my head. 

(Never fear, this one has plenty of breathing room...and pockets!)

I remember thinking I looked more like the "chubby size" pictures in the catalog, and I was heavier than my older sister growing up.  But mom just worked her magic when she sewed the same pattern for us, and they fit each of us to a tee.

Anyway, I didn't make any decisions on what to do with the patterns at this point.  I'll have to revisit them again another time.  Would you be interested in seeing more of them in future blog posts?  Let me know in the comments.

As far as my nephew's quilt, I took stock of my low-volume and other neutral fabrics and came to the conclusion that I really didn't have that much to work with.  Browns, beiges, grays, etc. are few and far between in my stash.  

Waverely Quilt Kit via Etsy

I did some looking online and found a cool quilt idea that came as a standalone pattern or a kit; ultimately, I decided to get the kit.  I really liked it just as it was shown, and I think it'll be perfect for him.  I've always wanted to make a Storm-At-Sea quilt, so this will give me the chance to check that off the bucket list.  

The Internet Thinks I'm Elderly...and a Badass

You know how when you're on a website, be it Facebook or any number of other places, and you get served ads?  And those ads are supposedly for items that somebody somewhere has decided may be relevant to you?

Well, apparently the internet thinks I'm elderly...but also kind of a badass.

The number of decades I have been lucky to walk this earth can still be counted on one hand (and, okay, up to the first joint of another finger on the other), so I hardly feel elderly. 

The ads are based on my browsing or shopping history, I'm sure, but orthopedic shoes?  

My feet may be the size of small kayaks, but I just want a supportive walking shoe, is all.  I walk a couple miles a day for health and enjoyment (and to re-listen to all the Outlander books along the way).  Can I help it that I have to wind my way through the narrow alleyways of a half dozen online vendors in search of a decent shoe in my size—available in white only, of course—to find what I need?

Now I'm also seeing a lot of floral polyester blouses being marketed to me.  Which might be okay if I were an extra on the set of Maude.

(I kind of dig her outfit, actually.)

But the kicker came last week when Facebook served up an ad for a 10-pound steel mace.  Because?

Beats me (pun!).  Because a gal needs an outlet for that pent up, middle-age rage, I guess. 

And a kettlebell looks too much like an old lady purse!

Sunday Sundry 1-31-16

Well, I ran out of thread last night while quilting the Joy in the Evening quilt, and none of the same was to be found at the local Jo-Ann or Walmart today.  So here I am in front of the screen, because the next job on my task list was organizing some of the paper piles that are encroaching upon every available flat space in my office area.

Do you know what happens when your spouse retires?  Paperwork.  Among other things, for sure, but, oy, the papers.  About the pension, about the Social Security, about the changes to the Social Security, about the retiree health insurance, about the COBRA benefits, about the 401K, about the company to which you may roll the 401K.  

And then there are my notes about the papers and my notes about telephone conversations with representatives about the papers, and to-do lists scribbled on notes mixed in with the papers.

I'm going to need a snow shovel up in here if I don't handle the papers.  But here I am, pecking out a post, not dealing with the papers.  Hi!

This is "discrastination" in progress.

But about the thread I ran out of, I had a full spool of Coats and Clark multicolor machine quilting thread that seemed perfect for the Joy quilt.  Who knows how old it was, but I wanted to use it up.  I don't use a lot of CC thread for quilting anymore, preferring other brands instead.  So use it up, I figured.  

And I did.  It got me exactly halfway through the quilt.

Fine.  I'll go to the store and buy more of the thread I don't use much anymore.  This spool was 275 yards (a regular sewing spool size), and one more ought to do the trick.  

But what's this?  They don't carry that same 50#, multicolor, 275-yard spool of mercerized (what does that even mean?), 100% Egyptian cotton, machine quilting thread anymore?

Fine. I'll go online and find it.  Okay, found it, but what's this?  It's only available in 1,250 yards?

Fine.  I'll buy 1,250 yards more of the thread I don't use much anymore.  Just so I can finish the remaining half of this project and then have 1,000 yards left to...not use much anymore...some more.

Ever see that Subaru car commercial where the kid is driving his dad's car?  (See it HERE)  And it's one thing after another and he's stuck in traffic and says, "Move it...killin' me..."   

I feel your frustration, little buddy.

* * * * *
Moving on, and talking turkey, I just had to check the skin grafts on my breast.  Let me explain.

I am cooking a turkey breast.  The kind that comes without wings and drumsticks for those who dislike eating said appendages.  Which makes them kind of tricky to prop up in the roaster, but I digress.

So this particular turkey breast was missing a significant amount of skin on its—what is it called, a belly?  The part at the bottom of the breast right above the hole where all the innards were yanked out.  

Mm, that was appetizing.  Hungry?

Anyway, there was no skin over a very meaty part of the turkey, and I was afraid roasting it without anything to cover the meat would make it dry out. 

Now I've heard of people putting bacon on a turkey breast and that's what I reached for, but all the bacon we had was frozen.  And I had to get this bird started cooking, so what to do?

Well, you know all that loose skin they leave at the neck hole for no apparent reason other than to hide the bag of innards—what are those called, giblets?  You know, the heart, gizzard, spleen or what-have-you that you're supposed to maybe cook or, if you're like me, throw away?  

(Aside:  Do you think you get the actual innards that were in the bird you buy?  Or is there an innard sorting line at the plant for livers and such, and then another job is to pick out one heart, one liver, one spleen and bag it up.  Like the Brach's Pick-A-Mix candy stand of innards?)

Lookie there!  Candy!  Not innards!  Because if you have read this far, you need a palate cleanser.  Have a butterscotch disk, won't you?

Anyway, skin graft:  I cut that loose neck skin off and placed it over the breast where the meat was exposed.  The end.

Not really, because it's still in the oven. And I just basted said turkey breast, and half of the graft shriveled up and fell off.  Ah well, it seemed like a great idea at the time.

Good thing there's aluminum foil.

* * * * *

I've taken some non-quilty pictures the past week or two, which I have yet to share here until now.

A hawk swooped past the kitchen window and then perched in a tree off the deck.  I grabbed my camera and sat taking pictures of him through the sliding door.  

He could see me as well as I could see him.  I think we shared a moment.

It was a juvenile red-tailed hawk.  I am happy to see him in the neighborhood, where the squirrels and rabbits are plentiful, and moles and voles too.  

It's a smorgasbord!  Knock yourself out, little hawk!

And we had some snow last week, which should not be news for the Upper Midwest, but it's been a mild winter so far.

The snow was the kind wet enough and with the right wind behind it to stick to the trees, making them looked flocked.  It was really pretty. 

We're looking at a winter storm in a day or two, but predicted snowfall amounts vary.  It was maybe 16 inches, then changed to maybe half that—or it could be rain.  We will see!

Well, the turkey smells like it's done, and the papers are still here to be sorted.  Time to go!

Flimsy and Flotsam

First up, a flimsy.  This is for the Sweet 16 Quilt Along, and it will eventually be donated in the Hands2Help Charity Quilt Challenge to Happy Chemo.

This was a fun one to put together, although it didn't use nearly as much of the pink stash as I thought it would.  I seem to have a lot of that, for some reason.

As I made the bed today, I thought I'd capture another 16-patch quilt that I made last summer.  This one has brightened my room for a couple months, a very welcome thing this winter.

Then I went rummaging in the closet for the St. Patrick's Day mug rug (by the way, there's a tutorial for that HERE).  Ended up having to drag out the whole cache of mug rugs and minis in the process, because it's never the one right on top when you go looking.  

I could use a better system for storing quilts and wall hangings and smaller things than piled willy-nilly on the shelf of the closet or stacked on the cedar chest (on top of some quilt books on the right, I see; so that's where they went...).

Do you have a system for storing quilts, etc.?

Since the light was decent at that time of the morning, I laid the minis out on the bed.  Now there's a bright bunch, huh?

If that hasn't given you a headache, let me tell you about a dream I had the other night...

Razor Brain
I dreamed I had a routine medical test of some sort, and in the process it was discovered I had a razor blade embedded in the center of my brain!  Now, I know of no "routine" test that includes an x-ray of the head, but just go with me here. 

(Oh, Homer...Not my brain)

The weird thing is I felt perfectly normal.  In my dream, I was back at the medical facility to get more imaging studies done, and I could not wait to find out how it got there!

Which isn't something anyone could tell me, I realized, as the dream became somewhat lucid.  They would look to me for that answer, and I had absolutely no clue!  It's not like you can snort a razor blade up your nose like I snorted that rolled up Flintstones Colorform back in the day.  Even that didn't end up in my brain, but rather went through my sinus, and with a couple more vigorous and somewhat panicked sniffs, I swallowed it.  So it ended up further south, presumably.

These are the things you never tell your parents, by the way, at least not right away.  Fifty years later, maybe (hi, Dad!).  All's well that ends well.  Except for Fred Flintstone, the Colorform.  

Do you remember that heady vinyl smell of Colorforms?  Or the taste of Play-Doh?  Elmer's Glue?  Chapstick?  Just wonderin'...

Anyway, the dream ended without any resolution, unfortunately.  The weird thing is, I'm still curious!

No mystery with this guy, though.

(Sharp mind you got there.)

Get it Right or I'll Bite

Well, it's official*...

 
Winter in Wisconsin bites!

(*Sort of.  Apparently, the mayor of Sunny P. was discombobulated by the nip; he says there will be an early spring, but since it was sunny yesterday, Jimmy should have seen his shadow, hence six more weeks of winter.  There's usually six more weeks of winter here, and then some.)

And Now My Butt Hurts

I basted a quilt yesterday, which I am reminded of today every time I move.  I must have really worked those glutes.

No wonder, really, as I'm sure I busted some yoga moves in the process.  Now, I don't know from yoga, except that all the cool people do it and I've always wished I were cool.

But I've watched enough early morning PBS to know that at one point in the process, I had to be doing something like a modified "Downward Dog." 

Also a lot of "Cat and Cow."  For me, mostly Cow.

This often morphed into "Extended Puppy," because who wants to have to get up and down all over again to close that one far away pin?

"Frog" pose works for those hard-to-reach places too, if your knees can handle it.  Mine, not so much.

At some point, I accidentally jammed my left index finger into the sharp end of a basting pin, and all my form went out the window and I moved really, really fast!  Because of the unexpected pain, of course, but also so as not to bleed on the quilt. 

I don't know the name of that move.  Maybe "Surprised Squirrel"?

I made up a few more unconventional poses, such as the one you do with legs about shoulder width apart, knees slightly flexed, and bent way over from the waist with your arms straight down.  I call it "Woman Pulling Radishes," or "Gardener's Fanny."

Yeah, that one really feels good.  Might want to lay off the cruciferous vegetables beforehand if there's anybody likely to share your air space.  I'm just sayin'.

Of course, the bigger the quilt, the higher the likelihood of becoming fatigued.  It's important to pace yourself and know your limits.  You want to avoid the pose that involves you side-lying on the floor, having lost all feeling in your lower extremities.  That one's called "911" or, alternatively, "Strife Alert."

As far as this quilt goes, though, the best pose will hopefully be demonstrated by little Max when he finally gets it: "Happy Baby"!

Catch and Release

I took my camera along to the antique mall yesterday.  We came home empty handed but had fun looking around.  It was a whopping 15 degrees and sunny, a good day to get out and shake off some cabin fever.

The place is huge, encompassing several stories and hundreds of booths worth of treasures.  The prices are reasonable too.  It's sort of like an indoor flea market minus the smell of bratwurst and fried donut holes.

I spied a few colorful vintage quilts!

I intended to buy this Frankoma Pottery clover-shaped dish, and I carted it around for awhile before handing it to Norm so I could take a picture of something.  He noticed a pretty good chip out of one edge (about eleven o'clock in this photo).  Aw...there's one that got away.

If you have a fear of clowns, you may want to look past this next one.  This may be the creepiest clown picture of all time.  I cannot imagine a scenario in which someone actually would want this framed and on the wall, except maybe at Halloween.  The stuff of nightmares, I tell you.

If that doesn't give you the willies, I don't know what will.  Maybe this?

An angry chicken pulling a toddler in a cart...charming or creepy?  Yeah, I'm thinking the latter.

Now this next one really intrigued me.  What in the world is going on here?  

A man of the cloth accompanying a woman whose hands are behind her back, I imagine lashed together in some way.  The cart is flanked by a mob carrying bayonets.  Other than that, our gal Ginger looks ready for a party (a good old-fashioned stake burning or gallows swinging?) while the man in black looks like the remorseful one.  Fascinating. 

And also creepy.

There was plenty of Pyrex, all of which stayed safely in situ.

This little piggy was tempting, though.  It gave me a chuckle.

There was an old tackle box full of sweet vintage valentines, all addressed in pencil to "Gladys" on the back.  I'm grateful to Gladys for preserving her colorful collection for posterity.

Norm was a fan of this fan, and about a dozen others.  

Seventies orange lunch box, anyone?  But wait, there's more...

It's...hot rollers?  

Ever wonder why people were skinnier back in the day?  Because Farrah hair was labor intensive, and lunch hour was the perfect time for a cup of coffee, a few cigs, a piece of Ayds candy, and a touch-up.  Don't ask me how I know.