Marsbarn Designs...

you have me woolly in the brain

Temptation.

Behind those doors lurks temptation. 

Oh Pendleton... you taunt me so..

With your rolls and rolls of lovely wool by the yard, you call me onward.. but I can withstand the temptation of $35 a yard of woven art because I have no purpose, no need.  But then there are the flat folds of sale, remnant, or discontinued patterns and I waver.  Do I need suiting?  Can I work with jacquards?  

It is a really good thing that the last day of the sale was today, because I could feel the abyss opening at my feet...

Time moves like the shambling undead... slow, slow, gottcha!

Don't look now, but September is almost over.

This means:

-I have one more day to shop the Sale over at the Pendleton Outlet.

-The Halloween decorations are calling from the basement.

-I only have 6 weeks to finish my Holiday Sale goods.

-My trip to NYC is almost here (!).

-Christmas will be here like a zombie host.  As in: Hey look how much time I've got, there's tons of time to... got-your-brains-BOO! 

Speaking of time flying by, this is my one thousandth post.  
Woo-hoo!  

Is he an apple...

Ohhh.. I think fall might finally be here.

My Mom found McIntosh apples at the Farmers Market last week.

When I was a little girl, my Mom and I lived in an old, brick three story apartment in the Cambridge, MA. Every fall, we would go apple picking with friends. It was an all day affair, and we would carry home bushels of apples, McIntoshes of course.  My Mom's corner bedroom was frigid in the winter, despite quilted window covers, so it made a perfect cold room for bushel baskets stacked with apples.  All winter long her bedroom smelled of apples;  sweet, sharp, and vaguely earthy.  Those apples would be eaten out of hand, or cooked into sauce, or baked into pies or cake.  Some years my grandparents would drive from Michigan to visit us. They would bring apples to add to our store.  My grandmother was particularly fond of the giant Mutsu apples that could weight up to a pound a piece.  Cut up two apples, and you have a pie.  

The Macs were my favorite, though.  I loved their cloudy skins that could be shined to show off their stripes. I liked how soft and buttery they were when baked into a pie, and I loved their singular flavor.

Sadly, Macs are hard to find here, so I hoard savor them when they appear.

I have enough apples for one more round of baking.
I just need to decide between another double crust pie, a crumb topping pie, apple turnovers, or a cake.
The October Bon Appetit has a lovely looking recipe for an apple cake with cream cheese frosting that's been tempting me... 

crafting with a cherry on top

There is something about getting a kit.
All the bite sized pieces of crafty goodness given in one clean set.
The clear direction of knowing what the final product will be.
The freedom of following someone else's lead.
The confidence that this will make a set number of fabulous things. 
Oh, and packaging... beautiful, fun, funky, or cool.. its the cherry on top.

Speaking of cherries on top... this is my finished (completely and utterly finished, oh isn't that a good feeling?) cupcake pin cushion.

Now, could I have done this on my own, without directions?
Probably.
Did I already have on hand most of the things needed to make this?
Yes. 
(I even have ramekins, but they would be ceramic or metal, not plastic)
But there is still something so satisfying about getting a kit and making it as a group in a class.
Is this my own insatiable need for consumerism, is it the need to support another independent crafter, or is it the communal element I loved about it?

I don't know, but I'm already hot to do more hand sewing with felt.
I even have a kit I bought last year from Posie that I could start with.
Anybody wanna come and play with some felt with me?

Escape to a bit of class

This morning, in the wee hours, instead of marching the girls to school, I ran away from home.  

Okay, I did get the girls up, feed them breakfast, pack their lunches, and make sure they were ready for school before I made my get away, but there was still some definite sneaking going on.  (As in, I didn't let the door slam and wake up Big E... of course 15 minutes after I left, the girls woke him up so he could drive them to school.)

Way back in August, when I was in super productive mode, I signed up for two classes at the Northwest Quilt Expo.  Now that it is end of September, and life has moved into school driven overdrive, the classes appeared like a little oasis at the end of a long week.

My first class was about hand applique using a needle turn technique.  The only applique I've ever done was the cheater-cheater-pumpkin eater kind that uses fusible web and lots of machine stitching.  It was cool to learn how to do it properly, and I'm thrilled to have a new skill in my back pocket, but I'm not planning on actually finishing the panel I started today.

My second class was a fun romp of felt and color.  We learned how to make a cupcake pin cushion, (which I finished tonight while watching Dollhouse).  What's not to love in a kit that comes packaged in a cake box?

In between the classes, my Mom joined me and we toured the show.  There were lots of great quilts, including this one which has me thinking about the boxes of scraps I have mulling in The Closet.

Of course there were also vendors...  
Oh the lure of pretty fabric.  I stayed focused and bought dice bag fabrics.. mostly.

And the best part of the whole day of fun?

Coming home to find that Big E had made dinner, and all I had to do was sit down and eat.

Partial button or full snap?

Last night in a fit of bravery, or perhaps it was just the bravado that accompanies the need to "just get something done", I kitchenered (it's a word) the underarms of my Amelia sweater, soaked it, and then blocked it.  

Oh my goodness but photographing yourself in a sweater is hard!

(Yes, I've heard this before.. but.. gah!)

This was the best I could do before I lost my nerve.  

(The house behind us is swarming with workmen, and apparently women photographing their chests is more interesting than nail guns.)  

So here's the thing... I don't like the whole buttons only-at-the-top thing, and I can't add more button holes (without remaking 80% of the sweater), so I'm thinking about adding sew-on snaps down the rest of the sweater. Is that too weird?  

I could... remove the buttons that are on the sweater now, sew up the existing button holes, add snaps down the front of the entire sweater, and then put the buttons over the top so there is the illusion of buttons going down the front.  What do you think?

But wait.. Whoo-hoo I finished my first knit sweater!!
(unless of course I change it...)

I still haven't worked this out.

K's comment from yesterday's post really has me thinking.  I am being completely mental about this.  The truth is that I feel serious, heart smothering guilt when it comes to not volunteering for school.  
I think this is a SAHM thing.  

The theory goes like this: 

I am at home. 

I should have available time, since I do not punch a time card,  

and I should use that time to volunteer.

Moms who work 40 hour weeks find time to volunteer,  
I should find more time because I'm not working.

This is how my brain works.
Rationally, I know that I do other things.
I know they are worthwhile, and productive, 
and I should make time for them.

But it's hard.  Really, really hard.
And it is all, 100%,  in my head.
There are more important things in life than this.
I create this sense of guilt for myself, and I need to find a way to turn it off.

Confessions of a Class Volunteer

I sent in my School Volunteer Sheet today.
I'm trying to play to my strengths, and not over extend myself.
In short, I'm trying to outsmart myself.

I said I would do auction projects for both of the girls' classes (if they needed it), but I couldn't do the classroom parties because I "wasn't available".

I don't like class parties.
I never have, yet I do them year after year.

The confessionary bit?
I kind of planned another event on the same day as the Halloween Party.
On purpose.
So I could say I couldn't do it.

More confessions:
My party inhibiting activity was planned specifically for the morning 
(but the parties are in the afternoon)
so that if no one else could volunteer at the party 
I could fill in.. 
you know just in case.

Oh ya, man. I'm a rebel.

Moving past the bad

My arm has almost returned to normal, 
which is good,
because this weekend totally blew rancid camel chunks.

Big E and the girls were fabulous, and sweet, and supportive, but having your arm swell to twice its normal size so that it looks like a bloated, blotchy piece of rotting meat that radiates heat and itches.. well.. ya. 

Okay. Enough of that.  

Tomorrow Big E and I are going to celebrate our twelfth wedding anniversary with a lovely lunch at a fabulous restaurant.  It is going to be a good week, damn it.

you've made me petty, and now I'm glad you're dead, Bee.

I know you got the fuzzy end of the lollipop, what with you being dead now, (I hear the whole "tearing your butt off" is fairly fatal) but what were you thinking?  Honestly, we didn't even know each other, and you just flew up and stung me, twice.  Sure only the second one was really the money shot, but what exactly was your motivation?  I didn't swing at you, or taunt you, or anything.  We're a bee respectful family, and hey, I support the whole "Save the Honey Bee" movement. (I ate that pint of ice cream this summer, even.) But my arm really hurts, and now you've got me blogging at 4:30 am, which is never a good idea.  It's just with the swelling moving down my arm toward my hand, the throbbing and itching is totally keeping me up.  All in all, I'm really quite put out with you, and (petty though it might be) I'm glad you're dead.