A Quilt Center

At the end of the day Tuesday, I had this:

And at the end of the day yesterday, I had this (oh, those beautiful points!):

I promise you, it is not as wonky as it looks in the picture. Part of the is that angle of the photo and part of it is that this is adhering to a flannel sheet hanging on the wall. All parts were carefully measured during the assembly process.

Getting the center done is a milestone in this quilt top, although it is only the halfway point. I still have to add several borders (it is a queen sized quilt). The next step is to make and add a Delectable Mountain block border to the right and left sides. Those blocks are done. They were made as part of the process of making the ones in the center of the quilt, but they are not yet sewn together. Once those borders are sewn on, there will be a full border of the turquoise background fabric, a border of more Delectable Mountain blocks (yet to be made), a border of the focus fabric of the dogsleds, another border of Delectable Mountain blocks, and finally another solid border.

I expect that making the next two borders of Delectable Mountain blocks will go much faster both because I know how to make them and because they only involve two fabrics. I won’t have to be so careful about keeping everything sorted. Still, getting this done by the end of January may be a challenge. I may have to push it into the first two weeks of February. The woman for whom I am making this also sits on our denominational board. She lives in Spokane and she and her husband are riding over to Portland for a board meeting with me in a few weeks. I hope to give her the completed top by the time the board meeting rolls around. She gave me the kit back in September but the only timeline for finishing was the one I imposed on myself.

And I don’t have to quilt it. I just need to make the top.

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The BMW dealer in Spokane called yesterday to tell me the recall parts were in and they were ready to fix my car. I made arrangements to spend an extra day in Spokane on my way back from the board meeting and have them do it then. They need the car for eight hours, but they will give me a loaner to use while they have mine. I said to the husband that I thought it would be nice if they gave me an M5 or a 7-series and he laughed and said, “They will probably give you a Toyota.”

I will enjoy having some extra time to bum around Spokane, though. I’m ready for a road trip.

An Anvil and a Set of Steps

Kalispell has a store called the Tool Palace. It started out as a sort of a pawn shop but the words “pawn shop” have been crossed off their sign (literally, just crossed out) and now it is known only as the Tool Palace. The inventory comes from estate sales, storage container purchases, etc. The owners have the husband on speed dial. Our two orchard ladders came from there, along with a vast assortment of tools.

The husband informed me on Saturday morning that he was heading into town to go look at an anvil at the Tool Palace. “Look at,” is code for “I am going to buy,” so I expected him to come home with an anvil in the back of the truck. He did not. Apparently, the employee on duty did not have the authority to negotiate. I sometimes think the husband was born in an Indian bazaar because he loves nothing more than to wheel and deal. He was unhappy that he could not talk this guy into making a sale.

He went back yesterday when the owners were there and came home with an anvil:

You may wonder why he needs an anvil. You are not alone. All I can tell you is that the husband never does anything without a plan. There is a plan for this anvil. I will let you know when I find out what it is.

He spent most of the weekend building the steps up to the loft:

They are functional.

Despite an upgrade Saturday afternoon from a winter storm watch to winter storm warning, we got only 3” of snow and none of the wind that had been so direly predicted. If there were a weather pool, I would not be betting on the forecasters. I still don’t know how it’s possible to be so wrong so often.

Spokane got quite a bit of snow, as did Montana east of the mountains. The weather in Spokane is often, but not always, a good predictor of what we’re going to get a few hours later. There have been winters when they got slammed and we got nothing and vice versa. Our temperatures dropped—it was 11 degrees when I went into town yesterday—and it’s nice and brisk out there. I’ve lived in Montana long enough, apparently, that it has to drop well below zero for me to be uncomfortable being outside provided I am dressed properly.

This was me last February when the high was like -15 for a whole week:

That is my grandmother’s wool coat and it’s very warm. And my hair is thick enough that I never wear a hat.

Finding Joy in the Snow

The husband went out to do a preemptive round of plowing yesterday afternoon:

A few minutes after I took this picture, however, he came in to tell me he was going to town to get a replacement hose. One of the hydraulic lines had broken and was spewing hydraulic fluid everywhere. Thankfully, the hose broke during business hours on the day before a big storm.

He came home with a replacement and a spare, because two is one and one is none.

Our plow truck is the 1999 Dodge 3/4-ton pickup that I used to drive. It has served us well. I drove it for eight years, the girls drove it in high school (both my kids know how to drive a stick shift), and now it is living out the rest of its useful life as the neighborhood plow truck.

The winter storm watch that had been posted for this afternoon has been upgraded to a winter storm warning. Now they are predicting 7-9 inches for the valley and 1-2 feet for the mountains (that’s us). We’ll see. The warning runs from noon today until tomorrow morning.

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The Delectable Mountain blocks are coming along:

There are nine sets of rectangles that have to be sliced up and re-sewn into these blocks, and each set has a right and a left side. I did the first three sets yesterday and stopped. It is a tricky enough process that I need to stay alert and pay attention to what I am doing. After two sets, I could tell I was starting to go into auto-pilot mode and that is when stupid mistakes happen.

It occurred to me that if I were to do this block again—and I might, because it’s kind of fun—I would consider cutting the rectangles on the Accuquilt cutter. Each rectangle has to be cut into four 2-1/4” strips. (There is a quarter-inch of slop on either end of the rectangle.) I could lay the rectangles on the appropriate die and run them through the cutter. At the very least, I could cut one layer of three separate rectangles simultaneously. Even doing it that way would speed up the process. I’m not going to try that with this quilt because I have no room for experimentation or error, but it’s on the list of things to try with the new cutter.

A few weeks ago, while cleaning the fabric room, I ran across a box of 2-1/2” squares that I had cut (with the Accuquilt cutter!) a few years ago. When I was a freshman in high school, I took two semesters of art. Our art teacher’s name was Ms. Furey. She was tall and elegant and wore her dark hair in a bun on top of her head. I never saw her in slacks, only dresses and skirts. She knew how to coax creativity from even the most reluctant students. One of our projects that year was the legendary 88 Squares. It began with a penciled 11 x 8 grid of two-inch squares. Our assignment was to fill each square with a different design and then paint the squares with alternating complementary colors. We were allowed to mix those complementary colors with either white or black to get tints and shades.

I chose orange and blue, still one of my favorite color combinations. When I started quilting, that 88 Squares project popped back into my head and I wondered if I could do something similar in fabric. I cut a whole bunch of orange and turquoise scraps, put them in this box, and apparently forgot about them. I’m using them as leaders and enders for the Delectable Mountains quilt. I’ve accumulated quite a stack. Last night, I put some of them on the design wall to see what I think:

The jury is still out. I wish I had my original 88 Squares drawing to look at for comparison; some memories have faded after 40 years. I’m not sure this will become a whole quilt, but I might very well make a wall hanging out of it. We’ll see.

Ms. Furey retired from teaching, but she still lives in the town where I grew up. I actually ran into her there a few years ago. She was working at an antique store that was in the location of our old library (behind Papo’s Pizza, for you Avon natives). I thanked her for being my art teacher and let her know that a lot of what I learned about design from her is still with me all these years later.

I will leave you with one of my favorite quotes about snow:

If you choose not to find joy in the snow,
you will have less joy in your life but the same amount of snow.

A Little Help From My Friends

It is lovely to have friends who will help pull you out of a slump even when they don’t realize that is what they are doing. I was pretty wrung out by the time yesterday rolled around. Thankfully, work went smoothly and I got that out of the way. My friend Rebecca came for her piano lesson mid-morning, but just as she was pulling into the driveway, my phone rang. It was Cathy, calling to catch up. I promised to call her back as soon as Rebecca and I were done. Rebecca made great progress with her practicing last week (and that despite having a sick little one). I still feel like I don’t know what I am doing, but we’re using a couple of adult piano lesson books and I am following the lesson plans laid out in them.

I called Cathy back after lunch. We had a great conversation and caught up on cows, kids, and her job at a clinic in Kalispell (she’s a physician there). She’s got an insane work schedule at the moment but hoping to cut back to just three or four days a week. Yesterday was one of her rare days off. I was so glad she called.

The husband and I had some Amazon reward points to spend. After checking with him to see if he needed or wanted anything (he didn’t), I spent them on one of these:

I have the smaller Accuquilt Go! cutter, but I use it frequently enough that I’ve been kicking around the idea of upgrading, either to the electric version or the Studio 2 version. I finally decided on the Studio 2. The electric one would have been nice, but this model allows me to use all the dies I currently have (with an adapter) as well as the dies made specifically for this cutter. (Accuquilt says this cutter will accommodate all 600 of the dies available.) This will allow me to churn through fabric much faster. And it was on sale.

And then the mail came, with a giant box from DD#1’s future mother-in-law who is an accomplished baker. It was full of cookies, each package individually wrapped. The husband and I had great fun unwrapping each package to see what kind of cookies were inside. I am a lousy baker, so I appreciate it when people shower us (but mostly the husband, whose metabolism can handle the extra calories, LOL) with homemade baked goods.

After a good night’s sleep in which Rusty did not bark or whine once (he has been waking us up several times a night recently), I woke up feeling much refreshed and ready to tackle today. It’s snowing heavily and has been since last night. We are under more watches and advisories through Monday, but given the recent track record for forecasts, I’m not going to speculate on how much snow we will get until it’s all over. I filled the woodbox yesterday. We’ll be all snug and battened down for the next couple of days.

This Was a Long Week

I am still deep in the throes of wedding stuff, but I think once we get past this initial set of decisions and arrangements, most of my work will be done. The kids know what they want. We are just doing our best to make it happen for them.

[Please do not ask me for details. If you have not been given details yet, it’s not because of some big conspiracy to keep you in the dark. You don’t yet know because we don’t yet know. Some things are still up in the air. It’s that simple. And it’s not my wedding, so I plan to be careful about how much I share here on the blog.]

It’s also been a week of finding some equilibrium with the doctors. I did have one day where I said to the husband that I am having second thoughts about working again. I am not unhappy about the change in the schedule. Transcribing fits into the early morning hours nicely. Rather, I am still struggling with the severe decline in the quality of reporting that comes with allowing people not trained in reporting to have access to a patient’s electronic medical record. And I am not the only one. I was doing a batch of reports yesterday for one doctor who made his feelings very clear. The numbered list of diagnoses for one patient had been transcribed all in lower case, which makes me believe it was done by someone other than a trained transcriptionist. He requested—with some associated editorial comments—that everything be capitalized and punctuated properly, so I had to go back and fix all of it. (Not work that I get paid for doing, by the way, as my compensation is calculated on the basis of audio minutes.) His anger was completely justified. A patient’s medical record is critical to the success of treatment, so why would you want it to look like it was written by a fourth-grader? The official transcription style guide that I was trained to use is more than an inch thick, but it’s basically useless now.

I could give you my sermon about how the government completely screwed up health care (and education, and a thousand other things), but I have come to accept that most people can’t think past “More legislation must be the answer!” to realize that government interference caused the problems in the first place. Some days it’s not worth the effort to point out that layering more complexity onto an already complex system never made that system simpler and more efficient. (The physician author of this article expresses a similar sentiment, with an associated graph that ought to make you choke on your coffee.)

I do hear reports every now and then of doctors who are bucking the requirements and hiring their own transcriptionists or switching to concierge-style medicine where they don’t have to be told how to practice by a bunch of lawmakers and insurance companies. Truly, I hope that trend continues. There may well come a time, though, where I cannot bear the mediocrity in the current system any longer.

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I haven’t done much sewing this week. I did slice up some half-square rectangles for the commission quilt yesterday to test out the process of making the Delectable Mountain blocks. They came out beautifully.

I also stopped at the quilting store and bought a new die for my Accuquilt cutter:

This is the die for the Cleopatra’s fan quilt block. It has a very art deco vibe. A few years ago I bought a collection of fabric—also in the art deco style—and a set of plastic templates for making the block. I hadn’t yet started on the quilt because the thought of having to trace and cut all those template pieces by hand was too daunting. And then a few months ago, Accuquilt came out with this die. This should make cutting the fabric for the quilt go MUCH faster. (Sewing them together will be another story. This is not a block for the faint of heart.)

I also ordered the die for the larger Drunkard’s Path block (the store didn’t have it in stock). The one I have makes a 4” block, so I ordered the one that makes the 7” block.

I’ve got to take some time this weekend and sit down and figure out a production schedule. Most of the “loose ends” projects have been dealt with and it’s time to start working on new items. I suspect zipper pouches will be next on the list.

My Word for 2020

The members of one of the Facebook/MeWe groups I belong to have been sharing their “word” for 2020—ideas like “grow,” “connection,” “focus,” and other positive, motivational concepts. I have never been able to find a word of the year for myself. Heck, I can’t even find a work to describe last year and it’s over.

This year, though, I have decided that my word is going to be “juggle.” That one popped into my head after a day where I started out with a few hours of transcription work, moved on to paperwork and billing for the construction company, did some sewing, and throughout all of this, was on and off the phone with various people attempting to nail down a venue for DD#1’s wedding reception.

The choice of the word “juggle” is not meant to be bad or good, just descriptive. I have a lot of balls in the air right now. My planner is starting to resemble a coloring book.

I’ve done five comforters for the party on the 18th and I am going to stop there. I need to make more headway on the commission quilt this week. My ironing board was in desperate need of a new cover, so I picked up two yards of gray cotton twill in town on Monday. Twill is almost always 58” wide, but that’s exactly how long my ironing board is, so I need a slightly longer length. (The cover that this one is replacing was made from some twill from my stash that I pieced together—that works, but it’s not ideal.) Two yards gives me enough fabric for two covers of sufficient length. I am covering my vintage Mary Proctor ironing board—a rectangle—and even though covers are still available for it, they are expensive. I prefer the ones I make myself.

I took the nylon cord out of the old cover, sewed a couple of leftover lengths of red bias binding together, and edged the gray twill with the red bias binding with the nylon cord tucked inside. It took less than 30 minutes and I am ready to press yards of fabric:

I switched to gray twill from beige twill and I am not sure how I feel about it. Oh well. It’s done, and the next cover will be gray, as well, so I’d better learn to live with it.

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What do these items have in common with each other?

And this?

Both are pieces of clothing belonging to people in my family. DD#2 sent me her jeans with a plea to fix them as they are her favorites. I am going to come up with some kind of fix, although I told her it was not going to be invisible.

The other pants belong to the husband (shocking, I know.) Every time he got up out of his recliner the other night, his flashlight fell on the floor. He finally looked at his pants and realized that the flashlight had worn a hole in the pocket.

It is obvious that these two share DNA.

I’m trying to get the husband to alert me when his clothing is at the 50% failure point because it is much easier to repair than when it is at the 100% failure point. (One pair of pants is missing that flashlight pocket entirely.) I am not a miracle worker, and I’ve come to accept the fact that I just need to buy him four or five new pairs of work pants twice a year.

Speaking of repairs, this came in the mail yesterday:

I am hoping to have a functional dryer again soon.

A Loft

The loft framing is done:

That vertical steel beam (one of two) will support the eventual overhead crane.

The floor of the loft is set and stained:

The husband said he chose that color so it wouldn’t show dirt.

Stuff is gradually moving from the old garage to the new shop. When I got home from church on Sunday, I discovered that the big metal welding table that was against the wall was gone, which makes getting in and out of my car much easier.

I expect that the bolt bins will be moved soon, as they are going to live upstairs in the loft. The loft will get some railings—I asked—but probably not until everything that will be stored there has been put in place.

Yes, this is a pretty swanky shop, all things considered, but the husband made do for over two decades with a shop that was barely adequate. I love seeing the way he has designed everything so efficiently. He will have beefy electrical service, air hoses where he needs them, and plenty of good lighting. Eventually, there will be a lift and a crane for working on vehicles and heavy equipment. And as we all know by now, anything worth doing is worth doing in excess.

Plus, I get to turn the old garage into a sewing machine repair workshop and I’m not going to complain about that.

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My friend Anna and I drove up to Whitefish Sunday afternoon to pick up some chickens. The father of a friend of hers died unexpectedly last week. The family is overwhelmed and didn’t know what to do with the chickens, so she asked if we could take them. There were two Rhode Island Reds and a Barred Rock, all of which were chicks last spring. I brought them home and the husband introduced them to the rest of the chickens. They have blended right in, literally. I couldn’t find them now if I tried.

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The host of a podcast I follow (A Farmish Kind of Life) posed an interesting question on social media yesterday. She wondered if an episode on how to deal with the less-busy months of the year on a homestead would be of interest to anyone. She pointed out that for a lot of homesteaders, the spring-summer-fall months are so busy that there is no time for the brain to go places it shouldn’t. Without that level of activity in the winter, some people are more prone to mental health issues.

It’s a valid point. So much of homesteading is a “feast or famine” proposition—either you’re so busy you meet yourself coming and going or you can’t do anything beyond peruse seed catalogs and imagine what the garden will look like without all of that snow.

I’ve been lucky enough not to suffer from that particular malady. I enjoy the winter months as a respite from the frenzied activity. During the summer months, I might see the husband for 15 minutes in the morning and 15 minutes in the evening. I rather enjoy having him around when he can’t pour concrete. But we are unique in that arrangement. Many of my friends struggle with the gloominess of January and February, and February in Montana typically sees a spike in suicides, unfortunately.

So I hope she goes ahead and does an episode focusing on that topic. I think we could all benefit from ideas on how to make ourselves more mentally resilient.

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Our dryer—which runs on propane—has been having issues. A few weeks ago, the timer stopped working. The dryer will dry clothes with heat intermittently. The rest of the time, it’s cold air only. We bought that dryer 24 years ago when we built the house, which makes it old enough that Amana is no longer manufacturing parts for it. If the county hadn’t outlawed dumpster diving at the garbage sites, the husband would go there to look for a replacement timer. He found one on eBay and we are waiting for it to arrive.

It would be lovely if we could get another 24 years of use out of that dryer, but I’d settle for four or five.

Not Blown Away This Time

I spent yesterday waiting for a “high wind” event that never materialized. I heard that it was gusty in town, but all we had were a couple of stiff breezes. The reason may have been the wind direction. The winds yesterday were out of the southwest. When we get bad windstorms, it’s almost always due to a back door cold front from Canada accompanied by winds coming off the mountains from the east.

But I am grateful that our trees are still standing.

I finished making the half-rectangle blocks for the center of the commission quilt.

That was a milestone, and I reached it without having to rip out any seams. The next step is to slice the rectangles into 2-1/2” strips, turn them around, and sew them back together to make the “mountain” portion of the Delectable Mountains block. The pattern suggests doing one color combination at a time to minimize the possibility of mistakes. I shall follow that advice.

I am still planning for an end-of-January finish for this quilt top because it is residing on the table where I do my tax prep and paper sorting and all of that has to be completed by the first week of February. The construction company is set up as a partnership between the two of us and the partnership tax return is due March 15. I want to make sure the accountant has all the information in plenty of time. The only year we ever had to file an extension was the year I had the flu and spent a week in the ICU. I’d like to keep it that way.

I replaced a zipper in a knit hoodie that belongs to my friend, Anna. I have a zipper repair kit and first tried to repair the zipper, but that didn’t work. Replacing the zipper didn’t take terribly long. Zippers are the one thing my Janome machine doesn’t do well, so I popped a ball point needle into Vittorio and he handled the job perfectly.

I sewed the remaining pairs of red print and blue Kona squares together for Yet Another Comforter Top:

Assembling the top will be an hour’s worth of sewing some evening. The colors in this quilt are closer in value than I anticipated—especially the darker red squares—but beyond rearranging some of the units, I am leaving it as is. These comforter tops have made a nice dent in the 5” square supply. Some of those fabrics are several years old and I am tired of looking at them. They need to move on.

I made the fourth envelope comforter top to be tied at our comforter-tying party on January 18. Four tops may be plenty. I have fabric for three more, but those can always be done later in the year. Or I might go ahead and get them assembled while I have the Janome set up to do them.

I trimmed the comforter top we tied on Thursday and pulled out some Kona for making binding. If I had had binding made up, I would have attached it and worked on sewing it down while watching the Patriots lose (is anyone upset about that?). Instead, I worked on the embroidered needle case kit:

I’m enjoying the embroidery, but I find myself getting analysis paralysis when choosing colors. I have a large supply of embroidery threads thanks to my mother’s bequest and the ones I have found at thrift stores. Sometimes I think that is not a good thing as it gives me too many options. I really appreciate that the instructions in this kit refer to Sue Spargo’s book Creative Stitching and specify which stitches (with page numbers!) should be worked where. That saves me from having to pick thread colors and stitch patterns. I like to design, yes, but sometimes I prefer to have a pattern tell me what to do and how to do it.

[I went off script at the very beginning by picking different colors for my birds than the ones the designer of the pattern chose, so some of this is my own fault.]

I need to finish this needle case so I have some place to keep my hand quilting needle(s). I tried half a dozen needles of various lengths and thicknesses on Thursday before I found one I really liked. (You would be surprised at how much of a difference it makes. I am also picky about my thimbles.) Hopefully, my collection of vintage needles contains some that are similar.

I am a Piano Teacher

This is new for 2020. I’ve never taught piano before, mostly because I don’t have any training as a piano teacher. I knew better than to try to teach my own children. DD#1 took lessons from other people and DD#2 wasn’t interested.

I started taking piano lessons when I was 8 years old. My first teacher was a lady who lived down the street from us. I took lessons from her for about a year, and then my parents enrolled me at the Koch School of Music in Cleveland, where I took lessons until I was a junior in high school. Interestingly enough, I never played in church. Our church had an organ, for one thing. (The two instruments are not interchangeable, by the way—pianists aren’t automatically organists.) We also had a young man about a year older than me who was unbelievably talented. He studied at Oberlin and Peabody and is currently on the staff of an orchestra in a major US city. On the rare occasions we needed a pianist, he was the obvious choice.

I did play piano in jazz band in high school when I wasn’t playing trombone. And although I played the trombone all the way through college, I stopped playing piano for almost 15 years. The Lutheran church I first attended when we moved to Kalispell had a very talented pianist. (That’s a different Lutheran church than the one I play for now.) It wasn’t until I joined the Mennonite church—and bought my own piano—that I started playing regularly again. If I could clone myself, I could be a church pianist at half a dozen churches here. It seems to me that fewer kids take piano lessons nowadays and church pianists (and organists) are a dying breed. I am hoping that someone shows up that I can train to take my place, because I don’t want to do this forever.

The husband commented a few weeks ago—as I was heading out the door to the Lutheran church—that if someone had told him when he was 20 that he was going to be married to a church pianist, he wouldn’t have believed them. Well hey, at 20, I didn’t think I was going to be a church pianist, so there you go.

Anyway . . . our friend Rebecca, who lives around the corner, asked me last spring if I would consider giving her lessons. We had hoped to start back in the fall, but couldn’t make it work. She came for her first lesson yesterday. I am grateful to be starting out with an adult, and one who knows some of the basics of reading music (she sang in choir in college). I think I would have a much harder time teaching a child starting at square one. She also understands that much of the work is going to be her responsibility; I can teach her good practice habits and a fair bit of music theory, but she’s going to have to do the hard work of building muscle memory.

We’ll see how this works out. With all the littles in the neighborhood, I may end up doing more teaching in the next couple of years than I anticipated.

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It’s time to start looking at seed catalogs. My partner-in-crime, Susan, is getting ready to put in a Fedco order and asked me if I wanted to add anything. I need to replace some fruit trees in our orchard and I want some old heirloom varieties. Black Oxford is at the top of the list:

Isn’t that a pretty apple? Susan wonders if it will ripen here, but it is a Maine variety so I am being optimistic. Susan’s son-in-law is from Montana, and his father is also interested in apple trees. He comes to visit every spring so he and Susan can graft some. Susan said that he planted a Black Oxford at his cabin in Kellogg, Idaho. I think that if it can survive there, it can survive here, too. I’ll have to ask him how it’s doing.

I also want a Seek-No-Further for the simple reason that it is mentioned in my favorite series of books by Sara Donati (Into the Wilderness is the first book in that series). Fedco doesn’t have Seek-No-Further trees, but they are selling the scion wood, so Susan said she would graft me one. She’s also going to graft me a Duchess of Oldenburg, which is the tree in her orchard that provides me with my annual supply of pie apples. Have I mentioned how much I appreciate having a friend with a degree in botany who has these specialized skills?

The Cosmic Crisp apple that was released at the beginning of December with much fanfare is available at our grocery store. Cosmic Crisp is a variety that was developed in Washington state from a cross between a Honeycrisp and an Enterprise. I haven’t bought any yet because they are pretty pricey. I’m also one of the few people on the planet who doesn’t think Honeycrisps live up to the hype, although they do keep well.

All Things New

I love the first few weeks of the new year—everything is all fresh and new and exciting! My desk is clean, last year’s paperwork has been moved to the spare bedroom to be sorted for tax prep, and my new filing system is in place. I have a blank planner waiting to be filled with upcoming events, and when I am feeling particularly generous, I buy myself a new set of highlighters to go with it. (All of my planner entries are color-coded according to which part of my life they involve.)

I have to remind myself that every day, every week, every month brings with it new possibilities; there is nothing special about January 1 beyond its place on the calendar and the fact that it starts a new tax year. Otherwise, we carry on as usual. The chickens don’t know what day it is. Still, I appreciate the novelty.

Yesterday was sewing day at church. The temperatures have been hovering right around freezing, which has meant more ice than snow. I was worried no one would show up. We had a good group of 10, however, and got a lot done. Elaine and I put a comforter into the frame to tie (with the requisite amount of laughing at our awful spatial skills that makes it far more difficult than it should be):

I have a large supply of 5” squares so I am using them to play around with color combinations. As long as the combinations are not too ugly, I run with them. The goal of an MCC comforter is to keep someone warm, not be displayed in an art museum. These squares happened to land next to each other on the floor during a sorting session and they reminded me of sherbet. The backing was a serendipitous length of a gray-and-coral print purchased at Joanns for $1.13 a yard during one of their clearance sales. It matched nicely.

The other ladies worked on the quilt.

This is a quilt top that Holly bought at one of the relief sales. It was a bit wonky, though, and she had to take it apart and re-sash and reassemble it.

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I left quilting just after lunch—delicious homemade broccoli, cauliflower, and cheese soup provided by Shirley—because I had a lot of errands to run in town. One of them was a stop at the opticians. I ended up having to order myself a pair of inexpensive bifocals to wear at the computer. I am more than a bit annoyed at the eye doctor who did my exam last month. He was late to the appointment, rushed through the exam, and I don’t think he did a good assessment of what I needed or adequately explained the options. (And without knowing there were options, I didn’t know what questions to ask.) His goal was to get me out of my bifocal contacts and into progressive lenses. I love my new progressive lenses when I am out running around town. I can see to drive and see labels in stores, but they do not focus properly at the distance of my computer monitors or the music rack on the piano. I stopped in last week to talk to the optician about the problem, and he suggested a pair just to wear at the computer. They are regular lined bifocals, which are an adjustment, but at least I can see to work on the computer again (and they are nice for sewing.)

Now that I know what I need, I will be more assertive next time about making sure I get the correct glasses. I am pretty sure I could have gotten one pair that would have focused at both middle and far distance.

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My latest YouTube obsession is a BBC production called Restoration Home. This show follows people in the UK who have purchased old, run-down properties and undertaken to bring them back to their former glory. The show is a train wreck in slow motion. One of the architects interviewed astutely noted that, “Some houses just want to die.” One or two of the restorations could be considered successful—”success” being defined as the homeowners not getting a divorce and staying on budget during the project—but the rest are money pits whose work drags on for years and years and cause turmoil in relationships.

The husband has no patience for those kinds of projects. If something requires more than a nominal amount of work to make it habitable, his assessment is that it needs to be burned to the ground or bulldozed and something else built in its place. Of course, he isn’t living in a country full of centuries-old buildings. I can appreciate the need to save a medieval farmstead built in 1430. And I have learned quite a bit about English history and geography while watching these episodes. In addition to following the nuts and bolts of the restoration, historians delve into the history of the property, who built it, who owned it, and its place on the historical timeline.

Revenge of the Rectangles

Happy 2020! Following that old adage “Begin as you mean to go on,” let’s start the year with a blog post, some sewing, and the new shop.

I worked on the commission quilt yesterday. Halfway through slicing up a group of pieces into smaller ones so I could sew the smaller pieces back into a big piece—a process that confounds the husband—I looked at what I was doing and started laughing, but in order to tell you why I was laughing, I have to tell you a story.

Long ago, when I was about 4-1/2, my parents took me to a psychologist to have me evaluated. I was a very, shall we say, precocious 4-1/2 year-old, and they were trying to decide if they should send me to kindergarten a year early. I remember one part of that visit very clearly. I was seated at a small table and the psychologist (a man) had given me two blocks and asked me to make a rectangle from them. I moved those blocks around and around and for the life of me, I could not figure out how to make a rectangle out of them. I also remember becoming terribly frustrated and sensing that I was failing miserably at what was expected of me.

[I told this story to the husband and he—no doubt trying to be charitable—pointed out that 4-1/2 year olds fail at a lot of things. I responded that it was my suspicion that he, at 4-1/2, not only could put blocks together correctly to make a rectangle, but could also build intricate towers with them. I probably talked a lot more than he did at that age, though, something that hasn’t changed much.]

In order to make these Delectable Mountain quilt blocks, I have to start with rectangles of two different fabrics, cutting them on the diagonal like so:

Then I have to combine half a rectangle of one fabric with half a rectangle of the other fabric. That was when I started to have flashbacks to 4-1/2 year-old me. Do they go together like this?

Or like this?

Or—holding my breath—like this?

(Because my brain is better at these tasks than it used to be.)

Thank goodness batik fabrics don’t really have a right side or a wrong side, because then I would have been in trouble. This is the hardest part of the quilt and it is the center section. Once I get through this, I should have smooth sailing with the borders. Pray for me.

I made a couple of sets of these rectangle combinations and decided that was enough for one day. I am disciplined enough to stop before I begin making stupid mistakes. I made a few more Candy Coated strips, sewed the Scrapper’s Delight blocks into bigger sections, and finished making the remaining half of 96 charm square units—one print, one Kona—for a comforter top. I still have to sew the units together. I’m going to do that today, as well as make two more comforter envelopes to tie at the party in a few weeks. And we have sewing day at church tomorrow.

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The husband has spent the last couple of days framing the loft in the new shop:

The loft will be above the bathroom and is where the bolt bins and other assorted small supplies will live. He informs me that getting the air lines put in may happen soon, and that means he can move that ^&%$* air compressor over from the old garage. I’m hoping that by the time spring gets here and the weather improves, enough space will have been cleared in the old garage that I can put some industrial shelving out there and organize my sewing machines.

I bought Elysian’s little guy a model trebuchet kit for Christmas. He and I had brainstormed the possibility of building a “punkin’ chucker” to deal with the excess pumpkins from our gardens last fall and I thought it would be prudent to start with a scale model. He also thinks that we should have a zip line here in the neighborhood, although when we proposed the idea to the husband—the top of the new shop being the highest point—it was not met with a lot of enthusiasm. Oh, well.

Scrap Management Sewing

The heavy sewing production of the past couple of months resulted in a lot of leftover fabric. I try to deal with those leftovers while the fabric is still on the cutting table by slicing parts for future projects. For instance, much of the extra apron fabric morphed into potholders. What wasn’t big enough for potholders was cut into 5” squares for comforter tops. And the “strings” that were left after that went into the scrap bag.

The scrap bags are overflowing, though, and driving me batty, so I decided to spend a few hours dealing with them yesterday. I dumped them all onto the floor and sat and sorted them by length. The strings that were full widths of fabric were set aside in their own pile. Those are the ones I want to use last because their length makes them the most versatile. Using the shorter pieces, I finished the last four squares for the Scrapper’s Delight 2.0 quilt for our bed. We already have Scrapper’s Delight 1.0 on our bed, but it is only 72” x 72” and I wanted a larger version. The original required thirty-six 12” squares; version 2.0 required sixty-four 12” squares. I’ve been working on them as the scraps pile up. Now I can put the whole thing together and figure out how I want to quilt it. Tera helped me do the first one on her longarm. I may ask her if we can do the second one that way, too.

I still had a supply of short strings, though, so Vittorio and I started Yet Another Candy Coated Quilt.

Both the Scrapper'‘s Delight and Candy Coated are from Sunday Morning Quilts by Amanda Jean Nyberg and Cheryl Arkison. I love that book. I think this is the fourth Candy Coated that I’ve made, simply because it’s such a great pattern for using up scraps. It’s made up of rows of varying heights, anywhere from 3” to 10-1/2”.

I started with the shortest pieces, seaming them together on their long sides to make a strip about 24” long. That strip was trimmed to the appropriate width and then the sections sewn together to make a row approximately 72” long. Out of those short scraps, I was able to get a 3” row, a 4-1/2” row, and part of another 4-1/2” row. At that point, I switched gears and pulled out the longer strips that were approximately 20” long. After sewing those together and trimming them, I was able to cut them into sections for a 10-1/2” row and and an 8” row:

This is good mindless sewing. You just sew strips together without regard for what fabrics are next to each other. It’s scrappy, yes, but somehow it all comes out in the wash looking fine.

I may not get an entire Candy Coated 4.0 out of the current scrap supply, but that’s okay. These completed rows are easier to store than a bag of messy scraps. I also have smaller scrap bags of light-colored scraps—what are known as “low volume” fabrics—and a bag of white and cream scraps. I have this desire to make a quilt from the white and cream scraps, which is incredibly impractical but keeps nagging at my creative subconscious.

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Transcription work has been light to nonexistent this week. That was not unexpected. I did all my errand-running yesterday—and got to chat with Tera for a few minutes at Costco—because we are supposed to get a winter storm this afternoon and it could be a messy one. Current forecasts are for 6-12”—two feet over the passes, which means we may get more than a foot at our elevation—and 40 mph winds. (Oh yay.) The bigger worry is the possibility of freezing rain. All of the people who think that four-wheel drive makes them invincible are going to get a physics lesson on what happens when the coefficient of friction goes to zero.

My mother-in-law sent some 13-bean soup mix, so I boiled down the ham bone from our Christmas ham and made a pot of soup. That will just simmer all day and be our dinner tonight. Hopefully the husband will not have to spend New Year’s Eve cutting up downed trees and dealing with car accidents.

All Those Elephants, One Bite at a Time

I started working on the commission quilt top yesterday. I said to the husband that cutting into fabric that belongs to someone else—and that probably cannot be replaced—is way more nerve-wracking than cutting into my own fabric. I am moving at a slow and deliberate pace. I made sure that I knew what was happening with the pattern before I started, because the pattern includes instructions for more than one size. I did two rounds of pressing and cutting and that was it for yesterday. (When I said “slow and deliberate pace,” I wasn’t kidding.)

The commission quilt features a block known as “Delectable Mountains,” one I haven’t made before. Bonnie Hunter’s Scrappy Mountain Majesties quilt uses this block:

The fabrics I am using are batiks—something of a departure for me. They aren’t my favorite fabrics but it’s good to branch out once in a while.

I’ve also got two of the MCC comforters assembled for the comforter-tying party in a few weeks. I still have five to go but I need to retrieve more batting from the sewing room at church. We are trying a different technique for these comforters. Normally, we would layer a backing, batting, and a top—either a single piece of fabric or a pieced top—into a quilt frame and tie it on the frame. I would then bring the comforter home, trim the edges, attach binding, and sew the binding down. (I love to sew down binding so that’s why I volunteered for that part of the job.) We only have one quilt frame available for tying, however, and we’re hoping to do several comforters at one time at the party. Shirley’s sister had sent her a set of instructions for making the comforters “envelope style,” which is how they do it in their sewing circle. We ordered a bolt of 60” wide cotton flannel in a plaid pattern and a bolt of 58” wide poly/cotton broadcloth for the backing. (The total cost was about $150 for enough fabric and batting to make seven 60” x 80” comforters.) Last month at sewing, Elaine and I measured and cut fronts and backs for seven comforters.

To make the comforters, I lay the batting out on the floor of the bedroom, put the plaid flannel down on top of it, then put the broadcloth on top of the flannel. The broadcloth is actually a bit narrower than the flannel, which is a bonus for sewing because I can see and follow one of the straight lines in the flannel to make each seam. An 8” opening on one end is left unseamed for turning. Sewing the seams takes about 15 minutes. I’m doing them on the Janome with the even-feed foot engaged.

Once all the seams are done, I trim off the edges to make everything even, then trim the corners and turn the whole thing inside out. At that point, all I have to do is topstitch around the edge, which secures the batting and closes the opening. The comforter is now stable enough that a couple of people can sit around a table and knot it every 4” or so. (I chose a plaid pattern with a 4” repeat to make that part easy.) And it doesn’t require any binding when it’s done because the edges are already finished.

I’ve been trying to figure out if this way saves time. I think it does. Each comforter takes me about an hour to assemble. When we tie them in the frame at sewing, it takes 2-3 hours by the time we get the frame set up and the whole thing tied, and then it takes another couple of hours for me to sew down the binding. It would take less time if I sewed down the binding on the machine, but I am not as fond of the way that looks. Using a single piece of fabric rather than a pieced top definitely saves time.

[At the end of the day, it’s not always about saving time, though. I am very much a process person and I do some of these tasks the slow, old-fashioned way because it’s a form of relaxation for me.]

I’ll run this analysis past the other ladies at sewing this week. We probably will continue to put tops into the frame each month for tying as we have some women who prefer to tie rather than quilt, but this is the way to go, I think, when we want to make a lot of comforters quickly.

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I started working on the embroidered needle case pattern that I bought a few weeks ago. I attached the felt birdies with a glue stick and now I am whipstitching them to secure them to the piece of red wool.

Once that’s done, I can embellish them to make them look like fancy birdies. The woman who designed this pattern is giving a class on making it at the quilt store at the end of January. I kicked around the idea of taking the class, but it’s four full-day sessions and I just don’t think I can spare that much time.

I’ve also got the embroidered felt quilt block kit that Tera gave me, but that one is complicated enough that I want to perfect some of my embroidering skills before I start working on it.

Goats and Horses in Cahoots

We did some farm sitting for Elysian last week. She went to California to visit family for Christmas and asked us to take care of her animals. She has about 25 chickens, two goats, two horses, and a Shetland pony. Her system is very streamlined and efficient. Each of the feed containers is labeled with a cutout of the front of the feed bag stapled to the wall of the barn above it. All of the doors open and close with pulley and rope systems. The stock tanks all have heaters, and I only had to fill the chicken waterer every other day. And the hayloft has openings in the floor for the flakes of hay to drop through.

Elysian had attached two small stock tanks to the walls of the barn underneath the openings in the hayloft. Theoretically, the hay was supposed to fall down into the stock tanks. The first day, however, I discovered that the horses didn’t like that arrangement. They had pulled the stock tanks out of the ratchet straps holding them to the walls and arranged the tanks in the middle of the barn floor. This plan was endorsed by the goats. When I arrived, one goat was standing on top of one of the stock tanks—which was on its side—and the other goat was inside the stock tank rocking it back and forth.

I didn’t want the goats to hang themselves on the ratchet straps, which were still attached to the wall, so I removed them. I put the stock tanks back in place. That lasted exactly one day before they were again moved so the goats could play on them:

After that, I didn’t bother putting them back.

I don’t have a lot of experience with horses, but Brighton and Dixie (she’s Brighton’s mother) are fairly calm. Still, I thought it would be prudent to take carrots with me when I went to do chores. Brighton caught on right away. Every time I showed up, he would impatiently nose around the pockets of my barn coat to see if I had treats. Elysian says he is like a big puppy. I suspect he wonders why Carrot Lady didn’t bring him anything this morning.

I skipped yoga last week because I got plenty of flexibility exercise climbing up and down the ladder into the hayloft.

Many years ago, when we lived in Pennsylvania, I farm sat for a friend of mine who had a large flock of sheep. Her farm was just off the route I took to work every day, so I would stop in the morning and let the sheep out of the barn and feed them, and then stop on my way home to feed them again and put them back in the barn. She had a Lincoln ram named Tiger. Tiger was a sweetheart most of the year—he would come running up to the fence when he saw someone and put his nose up to be petted—but during mating season, he tended to be a bit aggressive. I carried the shepherd’s crook with me so I could bop him on the head if necessary. Tiger lived to a ripe old age (for sheep) and sired many beautiful lambs. He died of old age and now his pelt is on the floor of our bedroom.

We would have sheep here but the husband says that would be equivalent to putting up a neon sign saying, “DINER.”

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We’ve already had an eventful Saturday morning; a few minutes after I got up at 5:00 a.m., the pager went off for a structure fire. Nothing will get a firefighter out of bed faster than to hear those two words from dispatch. The husband was half-dressed by the time I got back upstairs to make sure he had heard the tones go off. He left to get the engine. I waited a few more minutes, then called the convenience store just off the highway to see if they could make up 15 sandwiches for us. Fortunately, it was not a large fire and they had it knocked down by the time I had picked up the sandwiches and delivered them to the scene.

We don’t respond to many structure fires. Our responses these days are mainly medical calls and things like motor vehicle accidents (and there are plenty of those, unfortunately).

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I finished the website for the construction company this week. It can be found here if you’d like to take a look. And if you know anyone who is planning to build in the Flathead Valley and needs a concrete contractor, please let them know. The schedule for 2020 is already starting to fill up.

The husband got the plywood up on the inside of the shop. It’s nice and toasty in there with just the floor heater. He also has the supports for the loft framed in.

I am curious to see how he arranges everything in the new shop. The old shop is very organized, but stuff is crammed into every available nook and cranny.

My Apron Frustrations

The stack of things I want to re-write and/or re-design is growing. I intend to be respectful of copyright, but honestly, I can do some of these patterns so much better.

In an attempt to clear my stash of some projects, I pulled out an apron kit I purchased from the small quilt store in Spokane last year. I tend not to purchase kits, but the owner of that store likes aprons as much as I do and she has a lot of fun patterns and kits for sale. I saw this pattern made up and decided just to buy the kit and not fool with buying the parts separately.

This one is a basic half apron with a half a dishtowel sewn into the waistband. The dishtowel is not in the original design but was added to the kit by the owner of the quilt store. I have mixed feelings about dishtowels sewn into aprons. The dishtowels often need to be laundered more than the apron does. Aprons with loops or some other method of attaching dishtowels—so the towels can be removed and washed as needed—make more sense to me. Also, gathering the top part of the apron with the thicker dishtowel fabric took some doing.

Yes, I could have figured this out on my own. Working through other designers’ patterns, however, is sometimes more instructive than inventing the wheel myself. A couple of items of note on this design/pattern:

The bottom border is cut twice the finished depth and attached “burrito style” to the body of the apron. That encloses the seam between the body and border within the two layers of the border. The instructions for creating the “burrito” were vague at best. Were I not familiar with making pillowcases using that burrito method, spatially-challenged sewing Janet would have been totally lost. The pattern included simple line drawings for other steps in the assembly but not this one.

Nowhere on the pattern was a seam allowance specified. This is akin to writing a knitting pattern without giving a suggested needle size to obtain gauge. I used my best judgment.

“Right side” and “wrong side” (or “public side” vs. “private side,” as you prefer) are excellent landmark descriptions and should be used whenever possible. Likewise, line drawings should not only indicate body fabric vs. accent fabric, but also RS and WS of each of them.

Some things are just pickiness on my part, but the devil is in the details. The waistband was constructed from two 4” x WOF (width of fabric) strips. The instructions specified to sew them end-to-end to make a strip long enough for the waistband and ties. That put the seam right smack in the middle of the front of the waistband. I took the trouble to cut one strip in half and sew one half to each end of the other strip, thus placing the seams in the ties where they would not be as noticeable.

I put this apron on the list to re-design and re-write. I am pretty sure I can refine the construction and I know I can write a better pattern, starting with a specified seam allowance.

I’ve made two “Twirl, Girl” aprons recently from the book A is for Apron by Nathalie Mornu. I made a “Twirl, Girl” apron a few years ago, right after I bought the book, and the apron class I took at the big quilt store in Spokane last year was a similar design. Both have a sawtooth contrast bottom. (That was the class where the pattern had several significant errors, including one that resulted in the waste of some good fabric. The designer has not yet released that pattern, as far as I can tell from her website.) Because I’ve made sturdier versions of the pattern pieces out of Pellon Easy-Pattern, it was easy to compare the two. The differences are minor. I’d be inclined to size up the pattern a bit, though, as I think it’s a bit short.

The first one was from this bird print.

I loved the print but only had a small remnant. Fortunately, the pattern requires only small amounts—less than half a yard of the print and about the same amount for the contrast pieces—unless you happen to choose a directional print, in which case, you’d have to cut the fifth panel from another length of fabric to keep the print oriented in the same direction.

The second one was from a cherry print:

I opened the chest of drawers containing my stash of Kona and found the perfect shade of teal to match the print. Alas, I only had a fat quarter, which wasn’t nearly enough. I pulled out my Kona color card—admittedly, a few years old—and figured out that the name of that color was Ultramarine. A quick check of the Joann Fabrics website indicated that Ultramarine had been discontinued. Jade was a close match. I remembered, though, that I had purchased that fat quarter at the quilting store north of town and lucky for me, they still had half a bolt of it.

[Part of the fun of using remnants is the forced creativity and detective work.]

For both of those aprons, I serged the sections together and topstitched on the sewing machine. I’m not crazy about the width of the waistband. I plan to play around with that a bit.

Speaking of Kona, the Kona Color of the Year for 2020 is this gorgeous green, called Enchanted.

I am tempted to buy an entire bolt. Green is one of my favorite colors and this shade pushes all my buttons.

This time between Christmas and New Year’s is all about clearing the decks and prioritizing projects. I have a quilt top to make on commission and it has to be done by the end of January. I am going to start cutting that one today. I also need to get seven comforters assembled for the comforter-tying party on January 18. Those are also at the top of the to-do list. And I need to move on from aprons for a while and start making some small zipper bags.

I’ve now had a week back at work—with Wednesday off for Christmas—and am very happy with how that is fitting into the schedule. I’ve been starting around 6 a.m. and I’m done by 9 or 10. The hardest part has been getting back up to speed on treatment regimens. There have been some significant advances in cancer treatment in the past year. Stretching those brain cells is a great feeling, though.

It's Facebook Official!

Our older daughter, Mariah, and her boyfriend announced their engagement on Christmas Day. Once it was “Facebook official,” we could share the happy news.

We are thrilled. He graduates from the University of Washington School of Dentistry in June and DD#1 has been working as an occupational therapist at a pediatric clinic in Bellevue. Their plans after graduation are still unclear, but we know they will head into their married life ready to take on anything.

Our girls spent Christmas with the boyfriend’s family, who was kind enough to invite DD#2 to join them. She worked Christmas Eve at Nordstrom and has to work today, the day after Christmas, so it was impossible for her to come home. I am so grateful that she was able to be with family (because we already consider his family to be part of ours).

We had a very quiet Christmas Day. The husband worked on the shop and I did some sewing. I’ll have more on that in the coming days, but for now, we’re just going to bask in the happiness of these soon-to-be-newlyweds.

A Transcriptionist Again

I went back to work this morning. I needed a refresher on a few software features and there are some new drug names to add to the text expander, but overall, it’s a lot like riding a bicycle. The keystrokes and mnemonics came back to me pretty quickly. Part of being a transcriptionist is having a large collection of keyboard shortcuts, like astp for “autologous stem cell transplant” and hepe for “hemoglobin electrophoresis.” You can see how the shortcuts save time, but I have to remember hundreds of them.

I checked with my supervisor about what was expected from me in terms of output. The woman I am replacing did 60-80 audio minutes a day, which is the perfect amount. That number of audio minutes works out to—depending on which doctor(s) I get—three to four hours of transcribing. If I start around 6 or 7 a.m., I can be done before lunchtime. That leaves the whole rest of the day for other activities. I’m not going to get rich doing this, but it is nice to have the mental challenge and also to feel like I am contributing financially again.

Part of me misses the old way of doing things; we are in an electronic medical records system now rather than transcribing individual reports. I don’t spend as much time on each patient because I am only transcribing narrative portions instead of an entire report. The lab data, medications, and other short pieces of information are pulled in from other places. I am still unhappy about the spelling and grammar errors and how sloppy most records look, but there is nothing I can do about it except to make sure that the portions I am responsible for are done as professionally as possible in the way I was trained to do them.

It is what it is.

I can already tell that I am going to be less likely to fritter away moments of time here and there as I have been doing over the past year. That makes me happy. I like to be busy and I like to be productive. I am, however, a bit mentally wiped out right now.

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The insulation guys showed up at 9 a.m. to do the walls:

The plywood should be delivered soon and then the husband can sheath the walls. Those two concrete piers sticking out from the wall are for the lift, when he finally gets to the point where that will be installed. Having a lift is going to be a game changer for working on vehicles.

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I’ve got my music together for the Christmas Eve service.

I like to print out the order of worship in such a way that I can put my music in where it needs to be. That way, I can follow along and have the music ready instead of fumbling through a bunch of books (we use several hymnals).

The husband and I are negotiating where he is going to sit during the service tomorrow night. Christmas Eve is the only church service he attends. He typically sits with the girls and my mother and sister or his mother and my FIL, depending on who is visiting. We are by ourselves this year and DD#2 is particularly concerned about who he is going to sit with. I half-jokingly told him he could come sit up at the front, because no one likes to sit in the first couple of pews. He thought that was a great idea. However, I do not like to have people—especially people I know who might make faces at me—watching me while I play. We will have to see where he ends up.

Creativity and Ruffles

One of my goals for 2020 is to come up with a good way to manage my sewing projects, especially in production mode. Right now, I do this thing where I say, “I am going to make a bunch of aprons,” so I cut out a dozen or so aprons and get them organized to assembly line together. So far, so good. Then I look at the pieces of fabric that are left from cutting the aprons and think, “Those leftover pieces would make great potholders.” The next thing you know, I’ve cut parts for two dozen potholders, but because I had to dip into the stash for backings, I’ve run across remnants that I want to use. Some of those remnants aren’t big enough for the style of apron I’m making, so I pull out patterns for other kinds of aprons. Eventually, I get sick and tired of aprons and potholders and want to make something else, so I look at Pinterest—the devil’s website—and the next thing you know, I am back in the stash looking for fabrics to make infinity scarves. By then, I am thoroughly frustrated with myself because I have too many ideas and not enough time and that makes me anxious. Also, the fabric room looks like a bomb went off in there. Again.

Too much creativity is as bad as not enough. Sometimes it feels like trying to surf a tsunami. When I am being disciplined, I will rein in my enthusiasm and force myself to complete the tasks in progress. I did that yesterday—I have a lovely stack of finished potholders now and this week, I will finish the aprons that are cut out before I start more.

I am hoping that being back at my transcription job a few hours a day will force me to prioritize more effectively, because this can’t continue.

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I was watching apron videos on YouTube again yesterday while finishing up the potholders. I ran across one video where the sewist used an interesting technique for attaching a ruffled edge. She marked the quarter markings on both the apron and the edging—which had not been gathered—then pinned the edging to the apron. She then divided the quarter markings in half again, so what she had was an apron with a length of edging attached to it at several places, but the edging was longer than the edge of the apron and therefore looped up in each section. She began sewing the edging to the apron by folding up a bit of the excess edging, putting it under the foot, sewing half an inch or so, and repeating that step. The method was halting and stuttered, but eventually she did get the edging attached to the apron and it was ruffled. Sort of.

When I see people doing stuff like that, I have to stop and ask myself: “Is that a legitimate technique that I’ve never seen before and need to learn, or is that person a self-taught sewist who has never cracked a sewing book and is making it up as she goes along?” I am a self-taught sewist, too, so I can’t go lobbing stones at other people, but I’ve been around a lot of sewists in my life and I’ve never seen that before.

Speaking of ruffles—as if being distracted by fabric wasn’t bad enough—I want to put the ruffler attachment on Vittorio and play around with making ruffles. The instruction manual shows how to make ruffles:

And pleats:

I think that if someone went to the trouble of inventing an attachment for making ruffles and pleats, this is probably the preferred technique.

Beans Aplenty

I have thirty-seven pints of beans to show for my efforts yesterday:

Beans are not difficult to can. They are time-consuming, but most of that time is unsupervised. I let them soak for two days, changing the water twice. It takes an hour or so to get the canner ready, boil lids and rings, fill the jars, and load the canner. The canner needs to process for 90 minutes, but that doesn’t include the time required to get it up to pressure, release the pressure, and cool down enough to open. I put the first batch in to process in the morning, went off to sew, and did a second batch in the afternoon. My All-American canner holds 19 pints and I loaded it full both times.

These are some of the beans Cathy gave me over the summer. She got them from someone whose mother had packaged up several hundred pounds of beans in preparation for Y2K, so these beans are at least 20 years old. I noted to the husband that these beans actually seem to be of much higher quality than ones I buy nowadays. I am not sure why that is, other than the general deterioration of everything over the course of my lifetime. I know that many processors use RoundUp as a desiccant on their beans, although if I buy beans, I make sure they are labeled “organic" (for whatever that is worth).

We are well supplied with beans for a couple of months.

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I stopped at Hobby Lobby on Thursday to pick up another piece of Insul-Brite so I could finish my stack of potholders. The man in front of me at the register was buying a sewing machine and paying with AmEx gift cards. I overheard him telling the cashier that all year, whenever he got a little extra cash, he bought a gift card. He said his wife keeps an “eagle eye” on the checking account and buying a sewing machine with gift cards allowed him to surprise her. How sweet is that?

My husband bought me a sewing machine once (a vintage Singer Featherweight). We all know how that ended, LOL.

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Attic insulation happened yesterday morning in the new shop.

One of my blog readers asked, in a private e-mail, why the husband wanted a ceiling-mounted heater if heat rises? I asked him, because I was curious, too, and he said those heaters have blowers on them that blow the hot air down. A floor-mounted heater would take up valuable real estate. I’ve seen those ceiling-mounted heaters in lots of shops around here, so they must be effective.

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Our house sits on a corner—not a sharp corner, but a corner nonetheless, and one where a forest service trail and road veer off into the wilderness. Things happen on our corner. There are the usual kegger parties up at the trailhead on summer nights; I can tell when the party is over when I hear cars come tearing down the access road. Sometimes a sheriff’s deputy sits there and waits for them. On Valentine’s Day a few years ago, the husband and others from our fire department responded to a suicide about a mile up the forest service road. People routinely misjudge the road conditions in front of our house and get their cars stuck in snowbanks. One night, an impaired driver hit a tree in our front yard. His truck spun around and he was ejected and later died.

A few nights ago, I was sitting in the living room waiting for the news to come on when I heard a gunshot out near the road. Gunshots out here don’t freak me out as much as they might someone living in town—people hunt in the surrounding forests and hearing gunshots is not that uncommon. I put my coat on and started out the door to find the husband. Just then, my phone beeped. It was the neighbor across the road who said that someone had hit a deer but not killed it. They must have finished it off before driving away. The husband located the deer and dragged it across the road to the woods on our side.

Thursday night (also while waiting for the news to come on), I heard someone’s car sliding up the road. (I’ve gotten accustomed to listening for odd noises, apparently.) I put my coat on and went out onto the porch to take a look. Sure enough, someone had pulled their car over up at the corner and was walking around looking at it. Either they slid off the road and hit something or they hit a deer. By the time I informed the husband and he started up there to see if the person needed help, they had driven off.

Yes, I’m careful. I don’t go out to investigate these things when I am here by myself.

The Winter Honey-Do List

I’ve got a heavy-duty clothesline installed in my laundry room for drying clothes. We have eight-foot ceilings in our house, so hanging anything on it requires that I get out a stepstool, but that’s life. Most of my clothing gets dried on the line. I have trouble finding clothing that’s long enough to begin with, so I don’t want to risk shrinking it in the dryer. And I think it lasts longer when it’s line dried. Have you ever seen clothing that’s been “cooked” in the dryer? Yeah. Most people overdry their clothing.

I do put the husband’s clothing in the dryer, though, because it doesn’t seem to shrink as much. On Monday, I put a load in the dryer, turned the timer, and then realized—about two hours later—that the dryer was still running. What’s worse, the clothes were still damp and no heat was coming out. The husband spent about an hour monkeying around with the hose and got the heat working again, but the timer appears to be broken.

This is an Amana dryer that we bought when we built the house—in 1996. Its companion washing machine bit the dust a long time ago, as did that machine’s replacement, because washing machines don’t like to wash concrete-encrusted clothing. I am now on a Speed Queen heavy duty washer that seems to be holding up well.

He is going to hunt down a replacement timer and try to fix the dryer. Gone are the days when he could go down to the “green boxes”—the county dump sites—and cannibalize discarded appliances. The county made that practice illegal. (He fixed several of our appliances that way.) Even if he can’t fix it, I think we’ve gotten our money’s worth after 23 years. I am glad that the dryer waited to fail until the husband had time to work on it.

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One of our employees doesn’t like to sit around doing nothing, so we’ve been having him come over and help with the new shop and around the property. The business has money to pay him and he wants to work. Our other employees collect unemployment benefits for a couple of months when work slows down. The trees that have come down in windstorms this year need to be dealt with. The husband de-limbed some of them and sawed them into logs, then used the forklift to haul all the logs over to the woodshed. This kid split them with the log splitter, stacked them neatly, and covered them with a tarp:

He does any job the husband assigns him without complaint and does it well. He grew up on a ranch east of the mountains, which explains his work ethic. I sometimes wonder if concrete seems easy in comparison to ranching.

Cutting up the rest of the trees will have to wait until spring.

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I’m knee deep in potholders at the moment:

I get faster with each one, although I had to stop and make binding because I ran out. Each potholder takes almost a yard of binding. I’m binding these on the Janome 6600P with the even-feed foot. I make the binding on Vittorio.

My strategy is to pick an item and make a bunch of them until I get sick and tired of making them. I bound this pile yesterday while watching and listening to (and singing along to, of course) a BBC recording of The Messiah on YouTube. For some reason, my Christmas season is not complete without listening to the entire piece.

After the holidays, I’m going to start making some zipper pouches.