ARG! It's cold, wet and windy again. The dead limbs are blowing out of the trees. The leaves are piling up. And I have raked, blown, and burned twice already.
It makes me wish I had a roaring fireplace and a hot toddy.
Not really.
I don't even know what a hot toddy is, and the closest I ever got to a fireplace was a wood stove, which I loved dearly for the heat --but the cleaning involved! Not really worth it. Just my opinion. You can't beat the heat but the clean up never ends. Nevah!.
This morning the wind blew my umbrella wrong side out.
It's dark when I get up and will soon also be dark when I come home.
I hate this time of year.
It's like being trapped in a dream ( of lethargy and apathy) unable to move (not that you care) while the whole time you can see Christmas (AGGG! SCARY CHRISTMAS!!) bearing down upon you.
I wish I was a bear.
Mostly for the hibernation.
OK, completely for the hibernation.
Also, they give birth to their cubs while they are hibernating. After they have pigged out all summer and gotten really fat and soaked up all the sun and summer breezes. Their cubs are born the size of walnuts.
I think I could handle that.
I know I could handle that.
Bears have good lives. The rest of us have Christmas.
Can you tell I hate this time of year? Nothing against Christmas but it's the pressure.
The cleaning, the cooking, the hiding, the wrapping, the trying to figure out where you hid it so you can wrap it. The not being able to stay in bed all day.
The getting sidetracked in the crap that's been in boxes in the basement for the last 20 years while you look for the stuff that you bought and hid away. You think you remember buying it. You meant to buy it. Maybe you forgot that too. Maybe you dreamed it!
GREAT! Now you don't have what you thought you had, or maybe you DO have it, but you just can't find it. At any rate, it's just like the dream. You know have to get busy, and yet you cannot move, frozen in dread.
Every year I start in on my Christmas shopping only to realize that I need extra stuff for the Rock Star because his birthday is Dec. 1.
I do not forget this. NO! I don't.
I remember it but forget to get a gift bought.
Then, once I start buying every body's Christmas, I remember that his birthday hasn't happened yet, that I have simply been working ahead on that blasted list in my head.
And I skipped a step. An event. An event that needs a gift to accompany it. That's when I have to take a couple things out of the Christmas stuff for the birthday gift.
Because I looked over it in the pressure of Christmas. Looked over, you understand?
Not the same as forgetting. Not. the. same.
And then he, poor first born child that he is, is short a couple of gifts for Christmas.
Why am I (and all mothers, I believe) obsessed in keeping everything strictly "even"????? Because it's right, that's why!!!!
This is just one reason to keep some extra gifts around. The Home Shopping Channel is great for these. Buy cheap anonymous stuff that would work for practically anyone by the hundreds, just don't forget where you put them.
Last year I got him a crock pot.
Sad, I know.
Even sadder? .............He liked it. That's how old and responsible he is now.
My little boy is gone. Now I feel like crying. Maybe it's the weather. Maybe it's the menopause. Maybe it's just that I'm not a bear.
I have to go dig my Kahlua out of the closet, pour some into a cup of coffee (that's as close as I get to a hot toddy), and surf the net for great deals with no shipping. This is my life. Eat your hearts out, bears everywhere.
Why do I keep my Kahlua in my closet, you may ask? Well, ever since I found the Crown frozen in the freezer that's just the way I do it. My liquor is now on the top shelf in an old purse, behind my memory book from high school.
And yes, I know Crown doesn't freeze. Unless you add water to it.
When boys are about 13 they don't think too far into the future, which is both is both their blessing and their curse.
Ok, my blessing. Their curse.
It could be worse. The other day they asked me if you smoked or snorted weed. They both graduated from the Dare Program. No comment on what they learned in it, but at least you can see why I do not just go to bed this time of year, much as I think I deserve it and would LOVE to.
I have liquor to to guard and presents to find. I think......
I hope I have enough energy for the next few years. I do not think they are going to include much sleep.
It's that time of year. Again........Yawn. Hang in there.
Showing posts with label country kids. Show all posts
Showing posts with label country kids. Show all posts
Jul 17, 2011
Turning Straw Into Gold
This post was inspired by The Pioneer Woman, who had one day been looking at quilts, in catalogs, and posted some pictures of her favorite ones.
If you are not familiar with PW, you would not know that she is originally from the city, and so must be forgiven her mistaken idea that you can buy real quilts out of catalogs. I scolded her for this amateur mistake (lightly) in the comments section. I was not the only one. It hasn't been brought up again. I'm sure they got her straightened right out in Oklahoma. (wink wink)
What she had picked out were certainly beautiful and expensive, and I must say, if you've been to a quilt show lately you have probably had your breath taken away. I have. Quilting has come a long way. Traditionally, beautiful and expensive does not a real quilt make, at least not to kids from the country. A "real" quilt is not made from coordinating fabrics bought special for that purpose. A real quilt is not machine stitched, ever. A real quilt incorporates pieces considered ugly on thier own into a beautiful whole. A real quilt never needs to be dry cleaned. A real quilt has weight. At least, that's the way it used to be. I can remember always making a "tent" over my feet, so the weight of the quilt didn't give me cramps as a child. I still do that, actually.
Quilts were traditionally made from scraps of material for the practical purpose of providing warm bedding for your family. Through the years it has evolved into an art form and I am awed by some of the beautiful work turned out from the luxurious position of being able to buy the material you want and the vision needed to see the end result without benefit of a map. I have an Amish community within driving distance and they work on their quilts all the time. You might be surprised at how much they sell for. Consider the time that goes into them and the length of time the quilt will last, and it will seem like a bargain. Estate sales that feature quilts are always well attended, even in terrible weather, and the quilts always go last and rarely more than one at a time. I always see it as a testimony to effort put into those quilts, and I doubt that I'm the only one.
I grew up with quilts made from clothes that had been outgrown or ruined beyond repair. Every square was not just part of a quilt, making beautiful larger patterns, it was also a piece of your old baby blanket or favorite dress. Basically any kind of material that would work for a quilt was cut into pieces for exactly that. These pieces were kept in piles, bags and chests, sometimes for many years before a quilt would be put together. Some women could have more than one quilt going at a time, and were considered rock stars before that term was even born.
This is the newest quilt I have. It was made by my mother during her illness before her death. It was a dream she had put off till the last minute, but she got it done with some help. She did all the blocks herself and some friends, who were life long quilters, put it together for her. She was very proud of it. Since this was a dream she put off until the last minute, I have to tell you that she bought all the material to coordinate especially for that purpose. So maybe it's not a "real" quilt in every way, but it is not a bad first effort from a woman caught between the generation that couldn't throw anything away and the generation that threw everything away. It's a log cabin, which is one of the easier patterns. I am beginning to suffer guilt from never making one of my own. But I'll try it the old fashioned way. Go ahead and shake your head, it doesn't bother me a bit. I learned a long time ago this is strictly my own journey, and shortcuts never did appeal to me. I also learned a long time ago that the value of a quilt has nothing whatsoever to do with it's worth.
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This is the Sunflower Sue, made by Nana, that I have talked about before. It fits the qualities of a real quilt in every way.
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So does this one. It is over 100 years old and is a wedding ring pattern. Each little square, you can be sure, was previously something else in another life and faded from washing before it ever became part of this quilt. It was made by a teenage girl before her wedding and is still here all these years later. She would have started cutting pieces for this quilt as a small child, and sewn them together, probably more than once. You were judged by the size of your stitches then, and they were supposed to be very small. It must be said that it has spent a significant part of those years in a plastic bag of protection in a closet, because it is over 100 years old. But still. You have to admit that machine stitching would have never stood up to the test of time. When I turned 40 I decided I was going to get it out and use it. It seemed wrong to be a beautiful quilt over 100 years old and be kept in a closet. On the other hand, once I got it out it seemed wrong to be a beautiful quilt over 100 years old and be spending the night tangled on the floor amongst teenage boys and dogs. But quilts have lives too, and they have to live them. This quilt has had many lives, many of the scenes probably the same, just with different players. Or dogs. If it goes down, it will go down with it's boots on, so to speak. But I imagine it will last many more years.
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Which brings me to my favorite quilt of all. It's not the prettiest. Or the oldest. It is a real quilt because it is hand stitched, and made out of recycled material, but it wasn't made to be displayed or protected. I can't wait for you to see what the material is, and you will have to be a certain age to recognize it at all. It is my favorite quilt because it was made by Nana also, and because of the material, it is the quilt that I have never been afraid to use. It has been to countless ballgames and parks. It has been spread across lawns and fields to watch fireworks on. Babies have slept on it and had their diapers leak. Little children have thrown up on it. It has languished in the back of a minivan for months until it was needed to cover a seat for a boy who accidentally went into the city lake fully clothed. In FEBRUARY! It's had grass stains and grease stains. I've washed it hundreds of times. It spends almost every winter in a cedar chest. It is the one my children recognize as home, even when it's all alone and nobody is standing close to it. I have never seen another one like it, but surely there are others around. Check it out:
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Ok, now do you remember? In the early 70's, these were in some kind of laundry powder. I want to say Biz Bleach, but I can't remember for sure. The theme was flowers, and the tea towels were pronounced a bad advertising gimmick by one and all immediately after having been pulled out of the powder, where they were always buried mysteriously deep, which usually made a dusting on the floor, which had to cleaned up. Which, did nothing to improve the mood of these women who were already disillusioned at the thought of having to get some more tea towels after all, because these would never do. Maybe it was just that the powder wasn't any good, hence the "free" prize, but these tea towels were cussed and discussed all over America, by women who bought that washing powder. I don't know how many of them used the tea towels or how long they lasted.
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What I do know is that though those tea towels were despised by one and all, very few of them were thrown away, and at least one woman saved them up until she had enough to make a quilt out of. It's just a twin size, so either she didn't like the brand that much or she just didn't need any more big quilts. We will never know. We can make stories up about it instead.
If you are not familiar with PW, you would not know that she is originally from the city, and so must be forgiven her mistaken idea that you can buy real quilts out of catalogs. I scolded her for this amateur mistake (lightly) in the comments section. I was not the only one. It hasn't been brought up again. I'm sure they got her straightened right out in Oklahoma. (wink wink)
What she had picked out were certainly beautiful and expensive, and I must say, if you've been to a quilt show lately you have probably had your breath taken away. I have. Quilting has come a long way. Traditionally, beautiful and expensive does not a real quilt make, at least not to kids from the country. A "real" quilt is not made from coordinating fabrics bought special for that purpose. A real quilt is not machine stitched, ever. A real quilt incorporates pieces considered ugly on thier own into a beautiful whole. A real quilt never needs to be dry cleaned. A real quilt has weight. At least, that's the way it used to be. I can remember always making a "tent" over my feet, so the weight of the quilt didn't give me cramps as a child. I still do that, actually.
Quilts were traditionally made from scraps of material for the practical purpose of providing warm bedding for your family. Through the years it has evolved into an art form and I am awed by some of the beautiful work turned out from the luxurious position of being able to buy the material you want and the vision needed to see the end result without benefit of a map. I have an Amish community within driving distance and they work on their quilts all the time. You might be surprised at how much they sell for. Consider the time that goes into them and the length of time the quilt will last, and it will seem like a bargain. Estate sales that feature quilts are always well attended, even in terrible weather, and the quilts always go last and rarely more than one at a time. I always see it as a testimony to effort put into those quilts, and I doubt that I'm the only one.
I grew up with quilts made from clothes that had been outgrown or ruined beyond repair. Every square was not just part of a quilt, making beautiful larger patterns, it was also a piece of your old baby blanket or favorite dress. Basically any kind of material that would work for a quilt was cut into pieces for exactly that. These pieces were kept in piles, bags and chests, sometimes for many years before a quilt would be put together. Some women could have more than one quilt going at a time, and were considered rock stars before that term was even born.
This is the newest quilt I have. It was made by my mother during her illness before her death. It was a dream she had put off till the last minute, but she got it done with some help. She did all the blocks herself and some friends, who were life long quilters, put it together for her. She was very proud of it. Since this was a dream she put off until the last minute, I have to tell you that she bought all the material to coordinate especially for that purpose. So maybe it's not a "real" quilt in every way, but it is not a bad first effort from a woman caught between the generation that couldn't throw anything away and the generation that threw everything away. It's a log cabin, which is one of the easier patterns. I am beginning to suffer guilt from never making one of my own. But I'll try it the old fashioned way. Go ahead and shake your head, it doesn't bother me a bit. I learned a long time ago this is strictly my own journey, and shortcuts never did appeal to me. I also learned a long time ago that the value of a quilt has nothing whatsoever to do with it's worth.
This is the Sunflower Sue, made by Nana, that I have talked about before. It fits the qualities of a real quilt in every way.
So does this one. It is over 100 years old and is a wedding ring pattern. Each little square, you can be sure, was previously something else in another life and faded from washing before it ever became part of this quilt. It was made by a teenage girl before her wedding and is still here all these years later. She would have started cutting pieces for this quilt as a small child, and sewn them together, probably more than once. You were judged by the size of your stitches then, and they were supposed to be very small. It must be said that it has spent a significant part of those years in a plastic bag of protection in a closet, because it is over 100 years old. But still. You have to admit that machine stitching would have never stood up to the test of time. When I turned 40 I decided I was going to get it out and use it. It seemed wrong to be a beautiful quilt over 100 years old and be kept in a closet. On the other hand, once I got it out it seemed wrong to be a beautiful quilt over 100 years old and be spending the night tangled on the floor amongst teenage boys and dogs. But quilts have lives too, and they have to live them. This quilt has had many lives, many of the scenes probably the same, just with different players. Or dogs. If it goes down, it will go down with it's boots on, so to speak. But I imagine it will last many more years.
Which brings me to my favorite quilt of all. It's not the prettiest. Or the oldest. It is a real quilt because it is hand stitched, and made out of recycled material, but it wasn't made to be displayed or protected. I can't wait for you to see what the material is, and you will have to be a certain age to recognize it at all. It is my favorite quilt because it was made by Nana also, and because of the material, it is the quilt that I have never been afraid to use. It has been to countless ballgames and parks. It has been spread across lawns and fields to watch fireworks on. Babies have slept on it and had their diapers leak. Little children have thrown up on it. It has languished in the back of a minivan for months until it was needed to cover a seat for a boy who accidentally went into the city lake fully clothed. In FEBRUARY! It's had grass stains and grease stains. I've washed it hundreds of times. It spends almost every winter in a cedar chest. It is the one my children recognize as home, even when it's all alone and nobody is standing close to it. I have never seen another one like it, but surely there are others around. Check it out:
Ok, now do you remember? In the early 70's, these were in some kind of laundry powder. I want to say Biz Bleach, but I can't remember for sure. The theme was flowers, and the tea towels were pronounced a bad advertising gimmick by one and all immediately after having been pulled out of the powder, where they were always buried mysteriously deep, which usually made a dusting on the floor, which had to cleaned up. Which, did nothing to improve the mood of these women who were already disillusioned at the thought of having to get some more tea towels after all, because these would never do. Maybe it was just that the powder wasn't any good, hence the "free" prize, but these tea towels were cussed and discussed all over America, by women who bought that washing powder. I don't know how many of them used the tea towels or how long they lasted.
What I do know is that though those tea towels were despised by one and all, very few of them were thrown away, and at least one woman saved them up until she had enough to make a quilt out of. It's just a twin size, so either she didn't like the brand that much or she just didn't need any more big quilts. We will never know. We can make stories up about it instead.
That depression-era generation knew how to turn straw into gold. I miss them. That's all I'm sayin'.
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