Bring it.

It's Maeve's party day. 10 girls in my house in 2 hours 30 minutes or so--including my own two and a friend of Sophia's. Woof. It's halloween themed, of course, so it pretty much planned itself. Still, I'm already thinking that 3 hours is too long and I should have gone for 2. Leo, of course, hasn't napped yet, goofy baby. He's currently trying to figure out how to open the jeffersonian window to get out on the screened porch.


I keep checking things off. All these things--Maeve's party, Rock Eddy, girl scout trips and meetings and art class at school and on and on. Next weekend we were going to go camping at Mammoth Cave--was I out of my mind? So now it's actually a semi-free weekend, but then it all rolls up into a big katamari ball of crazy that doesn't end until Christmas night when I take a couple tylenol PMs and sleep off the autumn.

Losing my prescription yesterday, though, and having the folks at the recycling place actually find my bag but not find the prescription, which means it's SOMEWHERE ELSE, was one of those wake up calls for me. I lost it because I'm too busy and things are absolutely crazy. I love so much of what I do but on the other hand, taking a breath for just a moment and being able to keep a hold of things would be really smart.

But none of that nonsense is going to happen until at least Thanksgiving, although at that point I will be feverishly trying to finish sunbonnet sues (I do not work on them constantly, I know it seems like I've been doing them forever, but I save them for times when I can only do handwork, like in the car or at my in-laws, etc).

And now I'm going to go finish Maeve's costume and clean the bathroom and simply shut the doors on the guest room and my room and hope nobody gets curious. Everything else is ready enough. Bring it on.

O Crappy Day

Oh yeah. Losing my medication was only the beginning. Bah. Not even going to bother you with details.

Tony, Tony, Look Around

Sharing a house with 4 people makes me nuts. Not because I don't love them and like them a whole lot--they're great. But when it comes to keeping the house under control, keeping the mess tamed down, it doesn't help to have 4 extra people helping me make a mess. Plus, while Maeve and Mike are pretty good at helping undo the mess, Sophia is, I believe, physically incapable of seeing mess (like some folks are color-blind, Sophia is mess-blind). And then there's Leo.

In a mess, things get lost. So I've been doing a lot of quick prayers to St. Anthony and trying to roll back my day in my brain to figure out when I was out of routine and set something down. This works like a charm most of the time--either Anthony or meditation brings things back to me. I lost my Daisy handbook for girl scouts, and tracked it back to the stack of junior girl scout information. No problem. But then the other day I lost my keys. You know, if I never found that Daisy handbook, it wouldn't have been a big deal. But keys are. I hunted throughout the house for a half hour until I finally found them. In the piano bench. The only reason I looked in there at all was because Leo had a small grouping of cars below the piano bench. That was my clue. Leo had hidden my keys.

And now I'm missing something almost as important: my thyroid medication. I have to go to two different pharmacies to get this job done these days, and one set, the easy set from Target, is safe in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. The dessicated thyroid from the compounding pharmacy, which I picked up on Tuesday, is missing. It's still in its bag, wherever it is.

Yesterday, I took it out of my purse right before I left to run errands with my mother. I put it either on the front bench or on the landing--either one would indicate "this goes upstairs."

The rest of the day happened.

I can't find it.

This morning was not so great, akshually. I take it on an empty stomach first thing in the morning. And it wasn't here. Not in the bathroom, not on the landing, not on the bench. Not in my purse, not on a train, not in the trash can, not on a plane. I will not find my thyroid pills, I will have to crawl in bed and sleep until...Not quite Seuss, but you get the idea. I'm tearing the effing house apart looking for this damned white paper bag and it's NOWHERE.

At least it's a Thursday; the dumspters don't get emptied until tomorrow morning. That's my last resort, of course. It has got to be in this house.

Tony, Tony, look around
Something's lost that must be found...

That storm

That storm that woke me up at 4 in the morning with those strange whooshing sounds? Take a look at this (I say as a total layman when it comes to weather):Those are wind gusts above 60 mph; and look at the barometric pressure dropping right before 4 am. This storm barely scratched St. Louis, (it broke barometric pressure records in the upper midwest a little later in the day). But it's like a wall at 4 am there, bam. I love weather.

A bit of mid-fall melancholia

What's up with that? A weird loneliness, not unpleasant but still nagging, is settling into my soul this afternoon. I fear it will hang out a while. It gets distracting. I'd like to participate in NaNoWriMo again this November but I worry that if this starts to hang out, I'll be no good to anyone.

So instead I will get busy and knock it flat. Be back later.

Stormy Weather, Babies, Bento, Quilts

Last night at 4 in the morning I realized I was awake. There wasn't a sudden moment of wakefulness, a shock, but I realized that the sound I was listening to was outside and it was a storm. It was different. We've had rain pound on the windows and roof, we've had thunder and lightning and hail and who knows, but this was odd. As Julie put it on facebook this morning, it was like the rain was being pushed into the windows in sheets. The wind was constant and strong, not gusts and bursts. Just a constant, kind of frightening, whoosh sound. I lay there in the whooshing darkness with Leo just starting to stir, waiting for the tornado sirens. It's been unseasonably warm and this was creepy outside. But no. Just wind and rain. We kept power, for whatever lucky reason, and this morning the clouds were like no other, these layers of different kinds of clouds, all moving fast through the bright blue October sky. It's still windy, and there are other less foreboding stormclouds on the western horizon, but I'm not worried.

Leo is also storming. He's driving me crazy. We went to the pharmacy out in the county where I get my thyroid medication (it's a compounding pharmacy, which means they make their own capsules of what you need, which is the only way to get my medication now due to an actually quite frustrating FDA regulation--this medication predates medical testing, and has been grandfathered in under the regulation for ages, but now they need to run tests and so forth--which would be no big deal except that the manufacturer doesn't make enough money on this drug to make it worth their while, and so they discontinued it. Don't ask me why the powdered form is still available to compounding pharmacies because if we ask too many questions, it might get noticed and then I'll be up a creek). Anyway, they're one of those places that has posted hours that mean nothing. They open at 9, I got there at 9:10, and they weren't open yet. So we walked around. A middle-aged guy barked at me to keep my kid out of the parking lot (we weren't in the parking lot, we were on the sidewalk next to the doors of the businesses in the little strip mall, but I guess I looked like I needed supervision). Another middle-aged guy asked me if Leo was a boy or a girl, and I told him boy, and he said, "Thought so. You need to cut his hair." What is up with people?

But Leo was so happy trotting around and even holding my hand and walking and being a Big Kid. So when it was time to get into the car to come home, there was a full-fledged stiff bodied tantrum. Lovely. Just lovely. We got home and I was washing up dishes in the kitchen and turned around to see him drinking my coffee. Also lovely. So now he's having second breakfasts and watching a little movie and I don't care. Don't care.

For my birthday for myself, I gave myself two new bento box sets. They of course get mostly used by the girls, but I totally fell in love with them. Here they are packed up, and then open--the top row is Sophia's (horses), the bottom is Maeve's (little girls in hoods). It looks like a lot of food, but they are tiny containers. The girls manage to finish lunch pretty much all the time. This is a rather low-protein lunch day pictured here, now that I look again. But they make it.



And quilts. Here's the preview of the advent banners for Pius:I should have more to show you but I don't. And I'm heading over to Ann's for midmorning coffee and world problem solving so it'll have to wait.

Ten on Tuesday: 10 ways to enjoy halloween

1. Get it done early. Don't finish up costumes that afternoon.

2. Carve a pumpkin. I like the new-fangled complicated designs, but also amusing/ironic faces.

3. Trick or Treat. I don't know, is this a dying tradition in other places? It is still going strong here. Make sure you have a joke or dance or song!

4. Have a party. This year, we're having Maeve's birthday party on the 29th to do all that hokey traditional stuff. I'm excited.

5. Go to a party. We're then attending a Halloween party at Ann's house on Saturday (busy busy).

6. Make popcorn balls. I haven't done that in years, but I'm going to try this week.

7. Toast those pumpkin seeds too.

8. Not much you can do about it, but hope for good weather. Meaning lows in the 40s, windy and dry. Leaves blowing around, would a big moon be too much to ask?

9. Watch a scary movie. "The Haunting" is my favorite, a black and white psychological thriller based on a Shirley Jackson story. Can't beat it.

10. Let kids be kids. Let them scare each other and make up their own stupid jokes and divvy up candy and enjoy it. When you're a kid, Halloween is the best. My girls have been planning costumes since July. Let them be.

Rock Eddy October 2010

Our tenth anniversary at Rock Eddy coincided with my birthday weekend and it was so good. I'm uploading photos smaller than usual, but you can click on them to make them large. We were expecting rain all weekend, so I brought a bunch of stuff for the girls to do--the rain wound up holding off until after we were safe back at home. Lucky. Friday night was spent letting the girls play in the house, briefly meeting the guests at the main house (Rock Eddy is technically a B&B, but they also have 2 primitive cabins on the property, and the house we stay in, which has running water and electricity and is a house. A real house).

I was amused when they asked us where we were from, and we replied "St. Louis." They said they were from there, too, from Wildwood (about a half hour west of my house, not really St. Louis). And they asked what part of St. Louis we were from, and we said, "the city, by Tower Grove Park."

"Oh, he's from around there," the woman said, gesturing to her companion.

"Well, Brentwood," the guy admitted. Brentwood is about 10 minutes away by the highway, and also not in the city.

Anyway, though, we put girls to bed and Leo wandered around the house eating bread. I did some sewing and then tried to get Leo to sleep in the bedroom. Where he vomited all over the bed. Lovely. As Mike ran in to help, he picked up Leo and got a beam o'vomit right in the chest.

Which proves my continuing hypothesis that it isn't a trip to Rock Eddy unless someone gets sick. He was fine after that. Whew.
Saturday, no rain. Girls played, Leo played (he was highly enamored of the sliding glass door that he could manipulate and go in and out as he pleased).


We fooled around with cracking open hickory nuts and marveling at Maloki, who was spending most of Saturday getting ready for dinner that night, to which we had invited our hosts, Tom and Kathy. I mean, they've opened their land to us for 10 years. Least we could do was eat with them.


After a trip to the grocery store (it is required even more than someone getting sick), we had a quick lunch and then headed down to Clifty Creek, which is where we scattered Dara's ashes this past spring. It was good to visit again and skip rocks and walk along the dry rocky creek bed.



Then back at the cabin, we fooled around until the girls took a walk down to the main house. I followed them. And found the rope swing that we'd managed to never really notice before. We totally took advantage of it.

Dinner was lovely, starting about 5:30 and not really coming to an end until almost 8. The Coreys were impressed. We were all impressed. Fondue. Amazing fondue. When Maloki decides it's time to learn something, he doesn't dabble. I dabble--I learn a little about this, get bored, learn something else. But he investigates. He becomes an expert. It was amazing, and accompanied by good wine and wonderful conversation, it definitely creeps onto my list of top ten meals of all time. Just wonderful.

After the Coreys left for home down the way, we played Apples to Apples Jr. with the girls, and then played the regular version after they made their way to bed. Leo snoozed on my lap, transferred to bed just fine, and then I finished the day with sewing and conversation.

Sunday was rope swing.


We stayed later than usual, leaving about 2:00. The girls were done by then--if we were staying another night, it would have been fine, but they were ready to get home even if they weren't admitting it to themselves. Starting to bicker. So we (even me) utilized the rope swing one more time and headed back to the city.

But we'll be back soon.

One Moment Please

I'm 36. That's a good number.

Awesome weekend. Run down coming soon. But it's bedtime and I'm just waking up after a 4 hour nap due to dramamine zombification.

Three for Thursday

It's not really a thing. I just made it up. But here are three things going on in this busy girl's life (Elyssa on Wednesday said she reads my blog while sort of looking away and flinching, I'm so busy...).

1. Birthday: Birthday coming soon. My mother-in-law's package arrived yesterday (thank you!!!) with next year's calendar, and the quilt for my birthday week 2011 echoes the banner plans I have for church, which I see as only a good sign (I love things like that). Mike gave me his present already as well, because it is part one of three, and the other two will sort of require me to be there. He got me a bow. A recurve bow. A wood recurve 20# bow I can use at girl scout camp and pretty much anywhere. I love it. We're going over to the archery store on Friday to get arrows the right length and a target. And then I'm going to shoot things.

2. Art: today's art lesson is sun prints. I'm nervous because it is outside, has to happen fast, and there are many ways for it not to go well. Then after it's all done we go back inside and do a presentation/critique of art from last week. And I got the budget approved for the dangerous art of linoleum block printing. I'm contemplating photocopy transfer for next week. That involves poison! Trent and Eileen are going to regret ever asking me to come in to teach art. But I love it.

3. Banners: my pastor loved the banner plan when I showed it to him in color last night at worship commission. Now I need to run and pick up broadcloth this afternoon to get started on those and the ones I have planned for the Presbyterians. There have been requests for sneak previews; I will, but not today. I have more quilting to share, too, but that will have to wait until this evening.

Yikes!

Ten on Tuesday: 10 things in my freezer right now

I feel like these topics are now officially phoned in. I'm going to have to start making up my own if they don't get interesting again.

In my freezer?

1. 3 packages of deer steak pieces
2. 18 containers of various sizes (most about a quart) of tomato sauce
3. 10 3-cup containers of pesto
4. several bags of frozen berries
5. A growing collection of frozen pureed pumpkin and butternut squash
6. Pancake mix
7. ice
8. a deer roast that we need to go ahead and make soon before new deer gets here
9. about 4 (can't recall exactly) packages of ground deer mixed with pork fat (sausage)
10. Did I mention deer? Just kidding. About 1 scoop of coffee ice cream.

Mystery Money

Never look a gift horse in the mouth, right, but sometimes you have to wonder if the owner of the gift horse might be coming back for the horse, plus interest.

Yesterday I opened the mail standing in the front hall. Typical junk: Lands End catalogs (sometimes I order kids uniform jumpers (dress, not sweater) from them because they wear like iron, although I hear the pants do not, anyway, so I'm now on their list for Lands End Men, Lands End Women, Lands End Outerwear, Lands End Geriatric Care, Lands End Bar and Restaurant Supply, and so forth). Two other kid clothing catalogs that I haven't ordered from but are coming to me because I've ordered from somewhere (I suspect Lands End), a couple of political flyers, an insurance company waste of paper (the "we're working on your explanation of benefits even though it's only been a couple of weeks and you frankly could care less but we felt like we had to remind you of how stupid you are to have our insurance plan" letter I get every few months. I always wonder about whose job it is to print out and mail those letters, and if they would be better put to use writing up EOBs).

And there was a hand-addressed envelope from my OB/GYN. I had an appointment a few weeks back, my first since the regular post-partum ones back after Leo was born. I was worried for a moment as I held it in my hands. Usually no news is good news from your OB, and I had a pap smear and they said if I don't hear from them, all is well. But if it was bad, they would call me, right? But thinking about a friend's experience with a totally different doctor and a letter saying bad news instead of a phone call, I got nervous and ripped the envelope open.

Inside was a check.

No note, no perforated attachment explaining what the check was for. Sometimes things happen, I'm sure, and an overpayment would be resolved by check--I think this has happened with our second pediatrician, in fact, and I received about $8.50 in the mail. Great, no problem. But this check?

It was for $600. Six hundred even. Not $598.34, not $603.30. Just $600. Whose bill gets overpaid by exactly $600.

I instantly feared the check. I envisioned myself cashing it and then going to prison. I know it doesn't work that way but it would for me.

I stared at the check, trying to get it to speak to me. It was signed by computer, but then initialed by hand. My name was spelled right and I'm the only one in St. Louis, nay, in Missouri (there's a Bridget Wissinger in Ohio, if I remember correctly, but that's not how I spell Bridgett). The envelope was written out in longhand. And the date on the check was 9 days after my appointment.

I called my doctor's office. Billing questions, press 2. So I did, and left a voicemail message describing it. Spelled my last name. Left my phone number. No call back, but that's not surprising since it was 3:00 when I called.

So I called today, hoping for a person. No luck. So I called back to talk to someone at the front desk. She said she'd grab someone for me. And then she transferred me to that person's desk. And it went to the same voicemail. I left a second message. And now I wait.

I suppose I'll wait until after lunch and then call again? I mean, if this check is legit, I'm sticking it in savings and calling it a day. But if it isn't, I want to know why it arrived at my house. So I'm going to keep calling. And hoping, because money is nice, that it is for real...

If I ran a cable station

It would be bad. Today's Player vs Player pretty much sums it up.

I am the master of the deer stew

It's the third deer stew of the season. None is just like the others. Tonight's is turnips and onions, sunchokes and green pepper, leftover tomato sauce, leftover Italian beans, and frozen peas. And thyme. Last time had white wine and potatoes and frozen chunks of leftover butternut curry soup. First was carrots-celery-onion-potato traditional idea of stew.

I have three packages of deer pieces left and a month until deer season (of course there's some lag time). But there is a roast in the freezer...I wonder if i could start with that and move to stew. Because this is way better than either of the roasts we've made over the years. It's perfect.

My Weekend: Sunday

Sunday went like this:

Maeve crying because I didn't take her to atrium because we didn't get home from trivia until after midnight wakes me up and I let her know that she would have been upset either way because atrium starts at 8:30 and it was already after 9 and I was going to church but Mike was keeping Leo at home for similar reasons so Sophia and I trotted off to mass where Pete and Mary Helen met us since she came up for trivia and I had children's liturgy and afterward we all went to lunch at the Bottleworks in Maplewood, followed by running home to see my sister Colleen who had also come into town for trivia and was waiting for Tim to pick her up post-bike polo tournament, so we cleaned the backyard and got ready for girl scouts, which only had 7 girls in attendance but that was ok because we got a lot done and learned a bunch of trees and snakes and poison ivy and when Clarity came at 4 with her daughter, we went over the schedule for the rest of the year and that's fine that no Cabrini girls came at 4 even though they were scheduled separately due to the walk-a-thon because frankly I needed to not have two girl scout meetings on the same day when I also was getting ready for a block meeting about crime and as Clarity left, my neighbor called to tell me that folks were starting to gather in her backyard and a police officer was out front so I went out and introduced myself and then started a meeting full of neighbors from 4 blocks and we talked about crime and prevention and communication and I met someone who'd been reading my blog from before he moved to our street and that's always fun but also strange but he and his wife are nice and send their kids to the same school as my neighbors and when the meeting was done we had a big list of new neighbors to add to our block list and to help create block lists for the blocks east of us, as well as good information from the officer who attended the meeting and it was one of those moments when I realized I'm just kind of posing as an adult, how could I possibly be a block captain and have these sorts of conversations and meetings, but it went well and we went home to eat pesto pasta and a salad with walnuts involved and I talked to the block captain behind me and passed on what we'd learned at the meeting and suddenly it was bath time and story time and bed time and I fell asleep getting Leo to fall asleep and now it's Monday.

My Weekend: Trivia

Whew. It's Monday. Time for a break.

The girls were home Friday on a teacher work day. I spent most of my day deflecting Sophia's whiny attempts to get me to entertain her until neighbors were available. I worked my tail off getting the powerpoint ready for Trivia. I can't even remember what I did Friday night. It's a blur.

On Saturday, though, we got ready for Trivia up at our parish basement hall. Set up tables, brought in soda and snacks and all that stuff. Silent auction, extra paper, whatever. Took a very short break in the middle of the day and then went right back up there to get it all really ready. I cannot tell you how nervous I was. So much more than when I did the one for Elizabeth's organization (Tenth Life). Maybe because it felt like I was translating the idea of a trivia night to the organizing committee--not that they weren't hardworking (yes, they were) but every so often I'd panic wondering how they would handle the whole thing. Now that we have a year under our belts I won't worry anymore.

The night went well. We wound up with 18 tables, which was fewer than our goal but a good crowd when most tables had 9 or 10 people. And actually, we had 19 tables paid for--we had a donation of a full table ($150) from another organization, although they didn't manage to field a team.

The moment of truth is that first category, of course. Have I made the questions too hard? Too easy? Are people frustrated? Bored? I try to aim for the high score at about 92-95 points with a lot of tables in the 80s (out of 100). I realize writing this here, that Trivia Nights are a St. Louis thing, and not common outside of bars in most of the rest of the US (but I think we got the idea from Australia, actually, back in the 80s?). Basics: tables of 8 to 10 folks competing against each other in a 100 question quiz, divided up into usually 10 categories of 10 questions.

Anyway, my categories were:
1. Sea to Shining Sea (States)
2. What's My Line (fill in the next line of the song)
3. Logos (identify the logo)
4. Scales (questions about scales, like Apgar Scale, Saffir-Simpson Scale, etc)
5. Where Did I Go Wrong? (slips of the tongue, unexpected results)
6. Culinary Arts (food)
7. The Sports And Games Category (children's playground games, mostly)
8. How We Used To Get There (history of transportation, pretty much)
9. Hey Teach (books and movies about teachers)
10. Are You Smarter Than a City Garden Student (questions gleaned from classroom teachers)

The first question was: There are 5 state capitals not on interstate highways. Name one. (Hint: Honolulu is on an interstate, as ludicrous as that sounds).

And then we were off to the races. No one category proved too difficult (although the last one was surprisingly hard). There were a few doozy questions that few tables got, but we sell mulligans (8 stickers to a table for $20, you can use them on any 8 questions you like, it's a free pass). We also allowed people to rent a kid for $3/question if one of the student assistant runners knew the answer, which of course happened here and there). So by the end of the night, the winning table (the director of the school, her parents, Sophia's teacher and her teacher from last year) had 94 points and there were a huge number of tables in the 80s and 90s. So it went well.

We lost power in the beginning of the 6th round, which totally made me freak out, but it was just the two projectors (the questions are projected on a screen using a powerpoint on a laptop and a projector; the running tally of scores is on a separate screen set up), which we of course plugged into the same outlet, along with the sound system, stupidly forgetting our church was built in the 1920s and spaghetti-wired throughout the building. So we moved the scoresheet to the back and all was again well. People were patient and we took a break and all, again, was well. But still. I guess in the scheme of things, the things that could have gone wrong, that wasn't bad.

We made more money than I thought we would. I was estimating $3000 and it was closer to $5000. There was a silent auction and other little nickel-and-dime things (between round games, 50/50 drawings, etc). It all added up, and the church was incredibly inexpensive, so we done good.

Did you get the answer to the question, without googling it? Jefferson City, MO; Juneau, AK; Dover, DE; Carson City, NV; or Pierre, SD.

Lots to say

But no time right now. Exhausted from trivia night. But I read that Barbara Billingsly, the actress who played June Cleaver, died, and I thought about this:


More tomorrow post girl scouts. It's one of those jam-packed weekends full of all kinds of good stuff.

Blog Action Day: Water

I live in St. Louis. St. Louis has a lot of water.

In fact, we have so much water, we sometimes have too much. The Missouri and Mississippi flood their banks, the Des Peres gets too close for my comfort to the bridge on I-55, and the Meramec gets dangerous and drowns folks.

We have a lot of water. We have so much water, I'm not on a water meter. I pay a flat rate based on the width of my property (only 30 feet) and how many toilets we had the last time the house was sold (which is actually the same number now). I could run a sprinkler 24 hours a day all summer long and not pay a dime more than I pay now.



But I don't. I'm not worried about St. Louis running out of water, but I know it takes electricity to purify that water that comes through my pipes. So I've tried to conserve even though I don't have a financial incentive to do so (as opposed to when I lived in the desert in California and there were laws about when we could use water). It's hard to do things that don't change our bottom line, frankly, as opposed to turning off lights and getting a more efficient HVAC system and seeing those changes on the gas and electric bills.

But I try. We got rid of the galvanized pool, to begin with, and next year we will get a pool again, but one with a filter so that water can be filtered and not simply replaced every week. I rarely water my lawn--no, I never water my lawn. I have grass that's pretty hardy and mostly made of weeds. I do water the garden, but I have a drip hose there now. And if there's rain in the forecast, I wait. It was wet enough this summer I watered a total of three times.

But look at that again:

When I visit dry states like California and the southwest desert states, I get nervous. Not because they're dry--deserts are part of the world, too--but because they aren't dry enough. There are golf courses and green lawns and inappropriate population centers. I think about this:and I know that what we're doing is wrong. Just because we can create an artificial greenscape in the desert doesn't mean we should.

We have plenty of water here.

We have empty neighborhoods.

We have natural parks with giant oak and hickory trees. We have vines and wild animals that drink from streams and run in the forests.

We have a river so wide that when we start out crossing it on the Chain of Rocks bridge, a footbridge on the north side, we see this sign: Illinois 1 mile.

St. Louis: We'll Be Here When You're Thirsty.

Hats (the story)

Hat #1: Mother. I didn't do my best job this morning. I overslept out of sheer laziness (as opposed to, say, power outage). And the first thing I did was check my email instead of waking my kids up. So by the time we were walking out the door at 8:20, we were frazzled. I drove them to school and then I went to coffee.

Hat #2: Citizen Coffee Drinker. We sit in the coffeehouse gelateria combo and solve all the world's problems. The woman who gives us tickets when our parking meters expire came in and regaled us with stories of her pregnancies and deliveries.

No joke.

I left there feeling pretty good about my day.

Hat #3: Scrounge and Hat #4: Art Teacher. Both at the same time, I went to a resale place I frequent to look for glass. I found it, in cheap frames for 80 cents a piece. I also found a few rolling pins. I'm almost ready for tomorrow's art lesson.

Hat #5: Block Captain. This is the long part of my day. Well, the first long part. I got home, and two neighbors were standing in the front yard of another neighbor's house, one that's been for sale and recently sold and the guy moved in this weekend and now his house has been broken into. One neighbor (Nick on my Sycamore blog) stopped the burglary midway and the guys dropped the TV and got in the car and bolted. Nick was sure he could ID them if anything worked out that way. Thing is, none of us knew how to contact the new neighbor, his house totally unsecured and the police took FOREVER to get there. When they did, it was a nice, decent young officer we'd met at out block party, accompanied by the captain. Right before they got there, the satellite TV guy showed up and he had the homeowner's name and number, so that part got fixed at least. New neighbor on his way home and the rest of us waiting for the cops.

I just want to say that I've had my fair share of interactions with police since moving here, and including Captain Magnun telling me the drug house was "out of his hands" and that "higher powers were taking control", this was THE WORST interaction I've had with police or other law enforcement agencies in 12 years. Seriously. The young officer was fine. He did his job and it was fine. But the captain was interesting. Musing aloud, he wondered why this was happening here. I mentioned that word had been getting around that a certain apartment building a few blocks east was becoming a trouble spot. He then got this look on his face and said, "yeah, I keep getting these messages about it, but when my officers drive by, nothing's going on."

Seriously? Because every time I drive by, it's sketchy-city. Stoop sitters, people looking shiftily at cars going by, people walking up, people walking away, and so forth. And this is without doing any surveillance (which you might note on my blogger profile, is one of my interests). I can tell that building is bad news.

"He got to the end of the street and turned north on Grand?" the captain asks Nick again, who confirms it. "That's interesting." Then he says it's odd that he did that instead of going back to the territory he's familiar with (if he's from that problem property). I point out to him the HUGELY OBVIOUS FACT that all you can do is turn north on Grand at the end of our block due to a median, and while wrong way drivers happen, driving into traffic on a busy road like that isn't likely to happen regardless of the situation. He backpedals and then glances around our block.

"You don't even have any African-Americans living on your block," he points out, which I'm not sure how he could possibly determine since the whole block wasn't represented at this meeting of 4 neighbors and a satellite TV guy. But I agree that there aren't many, and then Nick points out that the new neighbor actually is probably biracial. I hadn't met the new neighbor at that point. So then the captain focuses on Nick.

"Well, maybe they knew him. Maybe they'd been to his house, maybe to a party?"

We couldn't believe our ears. Seriously? Is this one of those "all black people know each other?" kind of bullshit? Are you really floating this as a theory?

Nick tells them, again, that the guy JUST MOVED IN, and that he's a doctor at a local hospital and he's from the west coast and it seems highly unlikely--nay, impossible--that he knew these hooligans in their muffler-less temporary-licensed probably-stolen car.

"Crime doesn't come from nowhere," the captain drones on. HELLO, we told you where we thought it was coming from. WHY ARE WE DOING YOUR JOB?

I gave the new neighbor, whom I'll name Vince for the Sycamore blog, my little card with my name and number and whatnot. I told him I'd get him on the block list. And then I went to go change hats.

Hat #6: Parent Chaperone. I got to go to the Art Museum, which was acutely dull this time, and Leo did not approve. Our docent was kind of a "Lady who lunches" kind of woman, and, friends, our school is not. Plus, I swung Leo up onto my shoulders to give him a change of scenery and this guard yelled at me. Ok, he didn't yell, but he gave me this "you are a plebeian shlub with a honky slack jawed yokel overall wearing grubby germ-infested kid" disdain in his voice that was just TOO MUCH. So I became:

Hat #7: My Inner Hoosier. I asked him why I couldn't have Leo on my shoulders. "It's against our safety policy."

You know, I'm ok with stupid rules if the reasons sound at least plausible, like, "we're afraid parents are going to get distracted and kids will touch priceless works of art." But safety? What? Were they sued when some parent dropped his own kid on the floor? And, wearing hat #7, I came back at him (Jesus, I have no idea why I did this): "So, I can carry him around all day at the zoo like this, but not here?"

"I don't care what you do outside this building, but you don't put your child on your shoulders here." Fair enough, good comeback...

"That is totally ridiculous," I said in my sourest voice possible. I still had an hour left in the museum with the class (lucky for me, this interaction happened in the next room, away from teachers hearing me turn into everything the guard thought I was). HE FOLLOWED ME around the museum and didn't go away until I ducked into a tiny side room with some Japanese screens on display and nursed my damned kid in the corner. And I never nurse in public over the age of 6 months. But I was kind of bating him. Would he ask me to leave and then I could call a local news organization because he'd be breaking Missouri law? Oooh what fun that would be. I think I had leftover irritation at the police captain still floating around in my brain. But he went away and was replaced by a nice female guard who waved at Leo. Golly.

Hat #8: Girl Scout Leader. I had my first Daisy meeting today (kindergarten-first grade). It. Was. Great!!! But I planned for it in the hour between the Art Museum and pick up from school, with Leo desperate for attention and exhausted just like me. So it was stressful, but once I got there, it was fine. Fine, fine, fine.

Hat #9: Cook. Lucky me, I put the beans in the crockpot last night, and turned it on this morning. I got home from the girl scout meeting (By way of a very short-lived hat called "Carpool Lady") and threw a can of diced tomatoes, a couple tablespoons of cumin, some Ozark seasoning, and salsa verde. Shredded the cheddar cheese and voila, dinner.

Hat #10: Friend. Stepped outside to chat with neighbors who were all abuzz about the break in. And it was like old times. I miss it.

Hat #11: Blogger. Updated the hat situation. And then got cleaned up for

Hat #12: Church mouse. Liturgical what-not. My parish was having their mission this week and this was the last night, a mass, plain and simple, but they wanted someone to dress the altar (come up at the offertory and put on the altar cloth, the vessels, book, etc). It was me and another mom whose youngest is a few years older than my oldest. But I know her pretty well considering and I was on parish council with her husband, you remember, the parish council that ROCKED? We did a nice job. Mike and the kids brought up the gifts. It seemed to go well. I'm not nervous about it anymore.

Afterward there was a little thing downstairs and I sketched out the advent banners for my pastor and for Sr. Mary. They seemed...skeptical. But I think it'll be ok. Got some good (unrelated) gossip (that's the wrong word--it wasn't negative info like that makes it sound), chatted a moment, met a few new people, and then we came back home.

Hat #13: Neighbor (again). Chatted with Bobbie across the street--she was coming out of her house as I was pulling up with the kids. We stood there on the side of the street as the new gal, the one who lives across the street from me, pulled up, got out of her car, and walked into her house without saying a word to us. Like we were not worth her time. Lady, we might save your butt someday. You should learn our names. But maybe she's a short-timer after all (we thought she was, sort of renting the place until she could find her own apartment somewhere). Still, though. I can only give so much--I can only get in her face so many times, you know?

Hat #14: Mom. We came inside and I read stories to both girls. I realized I couldn't have the little girl come over for the play date with Maeve after all because Maeve has a doctor's appointment in the afternoon tomorrow. Alas. Emailed her mom. Girls got ready for bed and went there. Haven't come back down. Leo's getting needy, though, so I guess it's time for bed for him. and then

Hat #15: Drunk. Not really. But I might have a small, just a teeny, glass of something. Maybe.

Goodnight. Here's hoping for a dull Thursday. Cheers.

Hats

I wore every hat I own today.

Seriously.

I'm about to go wear the last one. And then come home and melt into a lump of jelly on my bed.

Ten on Tuesday: 10 ways to survive a long car trip

Ok, how did we do this without DVD players?

1. DVD player for the kids, especially if they can't read in the car due to age or car sickness.

2. Themed music. If I know where I'm going and what I'll be traveling through, I burn CDs that match.

3. Crossword puzzles, logic puzzles, all those time-wasters. I will now admit that I have done them while driving through southern Oklahoma.

4. Car games. The girls love car games. Find the red truck. Find the letter T. All those sorts of things. But they never eat as much time as I want them to.

5. Knitting.

6. Handwork quilt stuff.

7. "Arguing" with Mike, either about schools or raising kids or politics. That makes the time slip by.

8. Thinking about the Bohr Model of the Atom (story below)

9. Sing as many stanzas of "Wheels on the Bus" as you can create (we can be very creative)

10. Be in charge of the camera ("Did you get that? Oooh, get that.")


Bohr Model of the Atom:
It's warm outside. They're in the van together, traveling down to his parents' house. He's driving; she's looking out the window. Suddenly, she laughs, to herself, really, not even realizing she's audible.

"What is it?" he asks her.

"Oh, I was just thinking about the Bohr Model of the Atom."

He nods, she smiles at him, knowing he probably understands. And they drive on into the evening.

Some Quotes From Today

"I ain't getting on that horse." (We went horseback riding today. Not everyone was enthusiastic).

"Is she your oldest scout?" (referring to Miss Bridget, one of the chaperones and Maeve's preschool teacher).

"She can wait over at the tables."

"I'm ready to try now." (See, she's a bit of a drama queen. And I think she wanted to be the center of attention: look how scared I am on this horse, but the folks running the show didn't play along).

"Too late. I can walk you around when they get back."

"Miss Bridgett, I think I need my inhaler."

"No, not that one. That one doesn't get a second try." (This actually shocked me, but I was privately pleased. As one of my chaperones added, I love natural consequences).

"You were right about drama queen. That one's in my top ten. Screamed the whole time till she posed for the picture. She wasn't scared." (She did get to be led around on a horse for a moment; my co-leader snapped a photo in the midst of the tantrum).

"I wish we could have trotted more. I'm a much better horse rider than most of the girls here. I've been riding for 8 years."

"You're nine."

"Ok, yeah. Like, 3 years." (One girl is always convinced she is the best at everything we try to do--and when she often is not, she blames me, the other moderators, the equipment, "stupid girl scout rules", and so forth. She's a treasure).

"Miss Bridgett, this was the best. Can we go horseback riding again?"

"This was just the best day."

Fourteen girls went, and eleven had an awesome time. One needed her inhaler, truly. One was my Little Miss Ego, and one was the drama queen who was shocked that she didn't get second chances. But the others were happy (actually, Little Miss Ego was happy overall, and the inhaler did the job and she did most of the program). And they left having really learned things too: breeds and colors, grooming, etc. Good program.

So I can check it off the list and gear up for meeting next week. Just tumbleweeding to Christmas at this point!

Old Spice Grover

If you don't get it, you need to go over to youtube and search for Old Spice Guy. And then back to me.

Right Now

Right now I should be planning for RCIA this Sunday but I'm not in any kind of mood to do that.

Right now I'm not in a particularly bad mood, just flaky and hungover from a nap I shouldn't have taken and lunch out that was too salty.

Right now, Maeve is asleep, having not come down ONCE after going to bed. What worked about tonight, I will never know.

Right now, Leo is asleep and I'm squandering the free time. I am doing nothing productive. And I don't even really care.

Right now, Mike is working late. He took the middle of the day off (hence the nap, since I could). He went back to work at 6:15 and isn't home yet. I expect him within the hour.

Right now, in spite of my current blah, I'm pretty happy with the way I'm parenting my kids and doing the things I want and need to do.

Right now, I'm wishing I had a glass of red koolaid. I never wish for a beer. I often wish for koolaid. Lucky me, I know where the mix powder is.

Right now, I'm making the beginnings of the mental list of what needs to happen this weekend.

Right now, I'm so so glad we opted out of the oireachtas (Irish dance regionals over Thanksgiving). I'm going to need a Thanksgiving break. And since Sophia tried out and got a part in a local high school play, we wouldn't be able to do it all. The play makes her very happy. Dance does, too, but the oireachtas was not.

Right now, the house is moderately clean, the big metal pool has finally been carted away, and I'm in love with my screened in porch.

Right now, I'm concerned about the upswing in crime on my block.

Right now, I'm seriously puzzled by the live jazz music sounds wafting in through my open window. What the heck?..........

Right now, I'm going to go get more wool out of the dryer to cut up for this braided rug that has one tiny ripple in it that I keep hoping will miraculously lie flat but in my heart I know it won't and then what? I do a tummy tuck on a rug? Actually, that's probably exactly what I'll do.

Here I go. Mm, and some koolaid on the way back up. Mm.

art

I taught art today. I taught 19 kids in the upper elementary (4th-6th) how to do paper marbling with shaving cream and paste watercolors. We had fair to middling results--about 4 kids got it right away and hopped to it; 10 caught on with further demonstration, and another 5 or so never really "got it".

How to:

Fill a tray or deep paper plate with about an inch deep of shaving cream (like barbasol, the cheap foamy stuff)
Add watercolor, acrylic, or tempera paint on top of the shaving cream. Do not mix it in. Doodle it around with a stick or paint brush.
Press a piece of paper onto the shaving cream paint mess. Pull up. Squeegee the shaving cream off and the design will be left on the paper!

We did single color and multicolored prints. All the tables wound up covered in paint and shaving cream. I'm sure Sophia's teachers were privately freaking out but they handled it. The kids, with only one or two exceptions, were at least interested in the shaving cream mess and the process (I'm all about the process). A couple of them were more interested in making solid color shaving cream and then coating their hands in it (including one of my girl scouts who is normally not this way...). In the end, there were 3 or 4 prints apiece drying in the windowsill. I think it went well; I'm going back next week.

But I left there dying of thirst and with sore calves. I forgot how intense teaching can be, and Montessori classrooms have got to be the worst for intense teaching. There is no chalk-n-talk in these classrooms, and therefore the kids are independent and willing to take risks and explore--but also get up a lot and want a lot of your time and so forth. On top of that, I was surprisingly nervous. I mean, I know all of these kids, some of them quite well from girl scouts or from being in Sophia's class since first grade. I like these kids pretty well, too (my perfect mixture of good girls and bad boys--a few good boys who are also articulate, smart, and want to know more, but mostly bad boys and good girls: I love middle school). But I was freaking out shaky kind of nervous.

It wasn't the kids. It was the teachers. They're my daughter's teachers and they've signed on with me for a couple of months and I want to do right. I want to give what I can and I don't want to be relegated to laminating and copying tasks and field trip transportation. I want to DO stuff. And this was my first time to show that I could do stuff.

I did, and, like I said, in the end I think the kids had a good time and got to do something none of them ever have before.

The Stroller Set

Today I got to go to the Contemporary Art Museum, with Leo, and nobody gave me rude looks when he ran around like a wild man. The hour before they opened, they had a program for folks with babies under 24 months. No weird programming for the babies, just a moms' morning out kind of thing. Come, take a tour, have a pastry and a cup of coffee. And don't worry about upsetting the hipster couple on their date because they're not here. About 5 other moms and babies, and a grandmother took the tour with me, learning about an artist that works mostly in horsehair that he's rubberized. And a photographer who is probably very strange in person. His stuff was a little disorienting, and it was supposed to be. The rubberized horsehair exhibit was not disorienting, and in fact a bit pop. Fun.

I had a cup of coffee, got to ask intelligent questions, listened to other intelligent questions, and Leo, like I said, ran around like a wild man. It's a huge concrete expanse of a floor, I mean, it's perfect if you're Leo.

First Tuesdays in October, November, and December--so far, they may do more in the winter/spring. I hope so!

Ten on Tuesday: 10 things to like about fall

Is there anyone who doesn't like fall?

1.Color. The bluest skies, orange leaves, sweetgum purple and red, those magic ash trees.

2. Pumpkin pie spice. It can go in everything: apple dishes, squash, coffee, quick breads, baby's bottle...

3. Fires. We just got a portable fire bowl thingy. I'm in love. Alas, our 4 fireplaces are non-functional unless I wanted to have only one fire, since the one fire would also set fire to the house. We've debated lining the chimney (pricey) or copping out and getting ventless gas in the living room. But I'd know it was fake and it wouldn't satisfy me.

4. Wool socks.

5. Windows are open, making the house smell fresh and leading to:

6. More quilts on the beds and afghans in the living room.

7. Little boys in plaid flannel shirts!! Almost as adorable as overalls with no shirt.

8. Rhythm of school is back and a relief from the willy-nilly summertime lsck of routine. By April I'll be ready for a break, but October likes routine.

9. The month of November is my favorite month to decorate for, at home and at church.

10. Hey, my birthday's coming up in just a few weeks!

You're in luck if you like to look at quilt photos

So I had the camera upstairs anyway and decided, hey, might as well take a few more...

I finished two more I-Spy tops today. I have three total; one is for Leo and one each for Mike's cousins' boys under 5 (there are, duh, two of them, but I can't recall their ages). Yes, Mike's cousins' boys. One is Marc's son, who is part of the family that lost the house in July; the other is Betsy's son, whom I do not know if I've even met. He's...two? Anyway. They are similar but not congruent. Squares from the same fabrics but not identical scenes and the squares are sashed with different fabrics. The one I've done already has bus and taxi print between (I thought I'd posted a photo but I haven't, and I'm too tired to go take one right now. It will have to wait). These two have fireworks on black and music staffs (staves?). All along the edges are words indicating what you should look for on the quilt. Some are obvious and others are obscure. I like them.

[Can I just say that right now I'm listening to the local NPR affiliate, KWMU, and every Sunday night is Jazz Unlimited and tonight's program is "Composers Jazz Musicians Love". Including a wonderful version of "Bridge Over Troubled Water", and just now, "Blackbird" by the Beatles, my very favorite Beatles song, done up all lovely. It's a good Sunday night.]

Back to quilts. This corduroy Rail Fence quilt is cords on the front and back--the back is a wide wale off-white. A very thin batt in between and it is the go-to blanket for autumn weather and the window open in the bedroom. I didn't make the top. I picked it up at a garage sale. The corduroy is all different browns and slightly different wale widths. I figure the quilter must have had some bulk fabric left over after making pants. It had never been backed, though, and I brought it home and ignored it for several years. One winter, before we were better at winterizing the house, it hung in a window to block the wind. Serious hoosier. But now it is finished and graces our bed or the guestbed off and on from September to May.
This next one is odd. I originally made it (again) for a friend, but it was all but finished and put in a box in the basement, where it languished for 6 years. I pulled it out this spring and finished it. When I say "finished" I really mean I bound it and made sure it was quilted enough not to fall apart in the washing machine. It really isn't very finished. When I look at it, I know it could use a lot of work, and maybe one day I'll get around to finishing it--it needs quite a bit of applique to make it what it's supposed to be.
What is it supposed to be? It's supposed to be the New Tower of Babel from the classic 1927 film "Metropolis." I painted it freehand with watered down procion dye in various black and sepia mixtures of color after drawing it in pencil. It was always supposed to have more going on--more buildings appliqued on, more action on the street level and in the sky, more creepiness. I lost interest--I didn't work very fast back then. So it got packed away and saved for now. It's in my room at this point. I don't know where its final resting place will be. This photo is the center of the quilt--there is more brown batik-ish fabric on both sides, and it is bordered in red brick and wood grain. The back looks like alligatored white paint.

Speaking of "Metropolis", we went to Webster University's screening of it on Friday night. We've seen it before and like it very much--there's a self described "junk percussionist" three man group called Alloy Orchestra who did their own soundtrack for the 1980s era release of the film; now that more of it was found in Buenos Aires two years ago (which, by the way, is way way way creepier than anything I've ever discovered in genealogy: the idea that bits of a German film were just hanging out in Argentina for 70 years? Oy), they've redone the soundtrack and came to play live at Webster. We saw them probably 16 years ago with the older version; we've gone to see/listen to their performances of other silent films over the years. They are AMAZING. Just to round out the photos, here's one of the musicians with their set up. We had front row seats and our eyes were filled with the movie and with the musicians working. It is a seamless performance, too; you sometimes forget they're right there making all the noises and music. They come into St. Louis every year or two; if you're elsewhere, check their website. They're based in the Northeast but travel all the time.

So anyway, we were all so awed by the movie the first time that I made this, and then, like the Fritz Lang's first copy of the film, I tossed it aside and moved on. Nobody found the quilt and cut it into pieces to serve their own needs, but it waited. This is the year I clean house, literally and mentally, and so it had to be finished or get tossed. And I decided it was freaky enough to live in my house.

Jack approves of quilts.

Some more quilting

His name was Johnny. We dated in high school. He even asked me to marry him and, in my befuddled Texas senior in high school leaving for parts unknown brain, I thought I wanted to. That fall at school I put together a quilt on an old knock-off Singer machine from the 1940s (I think it was a Homemark), my graduation gift from my grandmother. My sister Colleen has it now; Bevin has the second one Penny gave me. I have a third in my closet that needs a bit of repair. I love them. But back to the quilts. I made it in red, green, and white in a pattern called "Homeward Bound". Think I was focused on getting home for Christmas? So this is the second oldest quilt I made that I own. But wait, you say, why do I own it, and not him? Because he gave it back to me when I broke up with him. Dumped it at my mom's house in October and she brought it up on Thanksgiving. It still smelled like his house (not bad, it just did). I hung it in the dorm hallway over Thanksgiving break, called him lots of names, and then I was glad he gave it back to me.It's falling apart, as you can see. It's not quilted--just tied with embroidery floss, and over time that's mostly gone. It sometimes gets thrown on a girl's bed for Christmastime, but usually it just lives in the hall closet. As I type this, though, the breeze is unbearable as the temperature drops tonight. I'm wrapped up in it and glad it's here.

I made this one the Summer of 1994. I came home from college, didn't have a room, really, slept on the couch some, sometimes booted a sister out of the room that would revert to being hers when I left in August. I didn't look for a job because I was going to be an RA the following semester and didn't really need to work. Didn't want to, either. So I made a quilt for my ex-roommate, I made a denim blanket for Mike (different from the one before, I'll show it later), I made a kind of amazing Incan double-headed serpent quilt (also, later--it's a duvet cover now and still in the winter box), and I made this. I found the blocks at a junk store. I added a few of my own, set them on point with plain blue and brown blocks between. It was the first quilt I hand-quilted and I LOVE it. It needs repair--it saw some hard college and early marriage use with folks sleeping on top of it on couches and so forth--and some of the vintage fabric just didn't hold up under those conditions. But it still makes me happy. All the quilting designs on the blank blocks are based on the circle made by tracing a 45 rpm single record.It was the first quilt I made that I really paid attention to balance and color. I learned about value versus shade working on this quilt. And I learned a lot about hand quilting.

Next up: a stack-n-whack pattern of blocks made of a pretty red Japanese fan design fabric, set in black and separated by random 9-patch blocks in black and different colors--I basically took all my scraps and put them in rainbow order. I made the top for a friend's wedding, and, this one is my fault, never gave it to her. I got caught up in the quilting process and annoyed by how much time it was taking (Sophia was a baby at the time). So it always got put on the back burner. I also didn't like the sheen to the black fabric, like it had sizing in it that never washed out. I debated a short time just giving the friend a new quilt, or maybe a wallhanging or something or dishes, even. And then we stopped being friends and I kept ignoring the quilt. Eventually, I decided it was time to venture into machine quilting, and I needed to practice before I made the Pentecost banner and then moved on to a million other projects. This was a perfect choice.It's backed in flannel, very cozy, although the black fabric still is too slick on the front! Bizarre. It's a double sized quilt, so it lives most of its life folded at the bottom of the guest bed now. By the end of making it, though, I knew how to machine quilt. I'd gained a skill. And I like it. It's just not...me.

Next time: double headed serpent, another denim blanket, and the Metropolis quilt.

Suson with Leo

We have this great county park, Suson, which has a farm. Well, it has farm animals. They don't produce anything for market, as far as I know. Chickens, pigs, goats, miniature horses, big horses, cattle. One big barn and two little ones and a pig house. It's great. I've been going there since I was a kid and it is one of those things that does not change or get flashy with time.

You know what I mean? I mean, the Zoo is a great place and I love walking around with my kids, but some of it has gotten so dumbed down! And don't get me started on the Science Center (although that wasn't there when I was a kid). I know things change and kids don't have the attention span they used to, but even the place where we used to always pick apples now has a country fair extravaganza annoying money-making thing (so we go further into Illinois to a less shiny place). But lots of places just aren't what they used to be.

But Suson is. It is like a time machine, in fact, it's so stuck in the past. But it's wonderful. We go and look at the animals and eventually make our way over to the playground (Leo and I did not do that on Thursday, but usually that happens).

He was in the stroller when we got to the first barn. I stopped and put his shoes on (yes, shoes, don't be shocked), and as I was tying one, the miniature horse snorted on the other side of the barrier next to me. Leo immediately took notice and squealed right back. Climbed right on out of the stroller to take a good look-see.

He enjoyed himself.

Official start of autumn

I made an apple pie today.

A mom at school had a bunch of apples, organic, somebody's backyard kind of situation. She gave me a shopping bag full (the plastic go to Target size). Mike said, "how about a pie?" and I replied, "Well, YEAH!"

I make a two crust pie, but I did lattice strips today. My recipe for apple pie is:

6 cups apples, peeled and sliced
3/4 cup of sugar (I used turbinado; I usually just use white but I was out, thank you grape jelly)
2T flour
And a huge heaping tablespoon of pumpkin pie spice (we get it from Penzey's--cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice, clove).

425 degrees in a two-crust pie for 35-40 minutes.

And as luck would have it, last week I made cupcakes for the girls with a caramel cook-on-the-stove icing (I was feeling kitchen-frisky with the cooler weather). Of course I had some left, in the fridge. So you slice a bit of pie, dab a bit of icing on top, and zap it in the microwave for 25 seconds. Top with vanilla ice cream. Die happy.

What did I do today?

I have a clean guestroom/sewing room.

Let me say that again: I have a clean guestroom. My sewing is loosely organized and stored appropriately. Someone could actually come to my house and sleep in a bed. Once Leo is up from his nap, I'm going to vacuum it. I even dusted the mantel and considered the things that I put back on it (mostly tchotchskes of Sophia's, but some of my grandmother's bells as well). I folded all the quilt tops that need to be finished for Christmas and put them in a now-empty drawer in the spare dresser. I found all the scissors. All the scissors.

Next up: my room, and then this nest I'm sitting in--the computer room/library. My room will take a half hour. I just need to put laundry away and move a few boxes to the attic or out the door. But this room? God help me. I love this room. It's one of the few crowded spaces in my house (when you have rooms that are 14 x 18 and 10 foot ceilings, well, things aren't crowded). There's a loveseat with an ottoman--it's also a hide-a-bed--there are several shelves of old-school fisher price little people houses and bits and pieces; of course there are books a'plenty and the computer and all its accessories. And a coffee cup from this morning. And a giant ball of braided wool scraps (I'm making a rug, of course in the most crowded room in the house). And. It's kind of crazy-making.

Leo's up. Time to do that vacuuming.