Keeping up with the Joneses (or whoever they are)

This morning, I opened the curtains to admire the view and was greeted by this unusual fellow on the Nameless (We’ll assume, for now, that their lack of neighborliness is due only to the chill in the air. I’m sure we’ll be fast friends come spring….) Neighbors’ front lawn: A challenge, plain as the nose on his (oddly misshapen) face. I gathered the troops and finessed them into their various items of cold-weather gear. Under the guidance of Thing One and Thing Two, the munchkins descended upon the snowy slope outside our front door and tackled the task at hand: reclaiming our snow-sculpting claim to fame. They left me with a sleeping baby (yes!) and a still-disastrous craft-room. I turned a deaf ear to the siren’s song of dirty dishes and a mountain of unwashed laundry, and made my way into my sanctuary. (See that scary-looking pile in the corner? That’s my fabric stash. I promise you, it self-propagates.) Despite the overwhelming amount of work to be done, there’s a happy little vibe in here. Itty-bitty corners of calm are emerging from the madness, and naturally, I’ll share. I went around whacking at things with a hammer (mostly nails, no children, I promise…) and that seems to have had a soothing effect. Meanwhile, the loin-fruit were busily building the coolest snowman on the block. Mission accomplished.

No more frozen fingers…

I drink my water ice cold. And I drink it from a stainless steel water bottle. Which adds up to trouble, when you live in Des Moines, and it’s January. I’ve been suffering for months with frostbitten fingers, and yesterday I had myself a little brainstorm. I made a dash for my felted sweater stash (What? You don’t have a felted sweater stash? You don’t know what you’re missing.) Thirty seconds later, My water bottle had a new sweater, and my frosty fingers were a thing of the past.

Swamped.

I am buried in boxes. Surrounded by stuff. Engulfed in ephemera. You get the picture? I’ve been a very good girl, and held off unpacking my craft stuff till it was all here. Well, now it’s here, and I’m officially overwhelmed. (I’ve also confirmed my ADD suspicions, in case any of you were wondering. Actually, you could establish that diagnosis just by looking at the way the boxes are packed, without so much as casting a glance at the poetry in motion that is me, putting stuff away.)

At this rate, I figure might be ready to make something by June.

Guest Blogger: Rachmy B. (age 7)

I drew some pirates on a boat. The Captain said, “Get ready to fire!” Before he could fire, the second-in-command said, “Stop it, you crewman! You’re not even a captain.” Then the second-in-command threw off the cannons. They were shooting at a sea serpent because it broke off the one of the crew-mates’ legs at the hip. That’s it.

Yup, that pretty much says it all. Hope your day has been uneventful and that all of your sea monsters are behaving themselves.

Things to Do:

Cover ugly milk crates. This is a house of many crates. They are muy ugly. Must. cover. crates.

Make bedskirts. Simply have no desire to look at hideous boxsprings for another moment. Ick.

Make more rice bags. My feet are always freezing, but if I pop a rice bag under the covers before I go to bed, it’ll keep my toes toasty till I fall asleep. We all use them…we all love them.

Set up studio. This is what it looks like at the moment: (Kind of forlorn, isn’t it? But fear not! I have prodigious plans!)

Make belly bands … avoid TMI moments.

Finish moving. Still.

Finish unpacking. Still.

Laundry. Dishes. Again.

Feed kids. Again. Yes, that’s snow we’re melting on the stove to make supper. Yes, I feel like Ma Flippin’ Ingalls. No, the water’s not fixed yet. Which brings us to the piece de resistance:
Fix busted pipes.

Division of Labor

This little chore chart was my first Midwestern craft project. And, like most of my undertakings, it was born of necessity. With six kiddos, it gets hard to keep track of whose jobs are whose. Naturally, I could have made a chart on the back of an envelope, stuck it on the fridge, and called it a day, but I chose instead to cut, paste, punch and drill my way to chore-ganization.

Step one: Spend a quarter on a bulletin board at thrift shop.
Step two: Spend 2 days digging through basement of rental house in search of boxes of craft stuff.
Step three: Give up, go to Michaels and spend 40% less than highway robbery on box of cool scrapbook paper.
Step four: Open box of ridiculously-expensive-even-with-a-coupon scrapbook paper, then locate “missing” boxes of craft supplies in “safe place.”
Step five: Inadvertently teach children varied and colorful assortment of swear words.
Step six: Spend three days sifting through forgotten goodies.
Step seven: Use scrapbook paper, paper punches, rubber stamps, punch out letters, etc, to create job board and hang tags.
Step eight: Mod podge board, then drive in many many nails to hang jobs on. (Take this opportunity to further expand expletive vocabulary of offspring.)
Step nine: Struggle valiantly to refrain from employing aforementioned vocabulary while assigning chores to unwilling loin-fruit.
Step ten: Admire, hang on wall, and promptly draft into use as key/camera hanging station.

Nothing like a Sunday…

except maybe a Saturday night!  Jess has been asking for  a cool shirt for our fifteenth anniversary (which was last week, but who’s counting?) and  last night I finally got around to the production phase.  I’d already printed out my text and bought the shirt (actually, I opted for a hooded zip-up sweatshirt.  If I’m going to go to the trouble of making something for the man, you can bet I’m going to maximize his opportunity to wear it..) so it was just a matter of cutting, ironing, painting, waiting,  peeling, and heat-setting to get the job done.  We’re all pretty pleased with the result, and the endorphin-high that came along with it fostered—of course— more crafting.  My mildewed, stained train case got a coat of apple-red paint, and the fabric for the boys’ chair finally made it into the light of day.  (Night, actually…)

Pictures coming soon…just like my new camera!

Anticipation…

Lots of goodies on the craft burner this week! Hoarding big cardboard boxes in anticipation of making Anna’s cardboard kitchen, as well as a nifty little puppet theater for the littles. A pop-pom rug for Esti’s room, and lots of crocheted and beaded hair bands for Chevi. (These are perfect for the waiting room at the doctor’s office (or for the movie theater, I discovered last night. No patience for movies.) Can’t wait to get started…still on my upcycled sugar bag high!

Golly, there’s a lot of good stuff in here.

I spent the day marveling at my accumulated treasures.  I sifted and sorted through armloads of goodies, most of which had succumbed to that most unfortunate of truisms: out of sight, out of mind.  For the past 15 months, I’ve done very little crafting, and a terrifying lot of “Just put it in the art room.  I’ll get it later.”  Now that the baby is 6 months old, and we’ve been back from camp for three months, the high holidays are gone, and I’m starting to do some birthday and Chanukah crafting, well, I needed to find my stuff.  First I cleared out an awful lot of fabric, which I was able to sort and set up in my new studio. (I know,  it’s just our bedroom, but I’m pretending I have a studio, okay?)  Once I could see parts of the floor, it was time to get cracking.  Everything got dumped on the dining room table. And the dining room floor. (And, yeah, I made six more trips to the bedroom with baskets of stray fabric.  )  I gave away three big bags of stuff to freecycle friends.  I pigeonholed, combined, and grouped stacks of ephemera, piles of books, and a surprising number of enamel paints. (marbling, 4 years ago.)  I spent a few minutes admiring the fact that I have 17 balls of bright orange DMC cotton crochet yarn. (I thought I’d get a great deal if I bought it all at the thrift shop.  I did, but I’ve used exactly one ball in 3 years, so I’m a little concerned about the strength of my investment.)  I managed to put all of the half marbles in one container.  ( I find them everywhere.  It defies logic, and puts fear in my heart, as Shani is hitting the hand-to-mouth stage, which should last for the next 18 months or so…) Dominoes in one bowl, vintage thread in another. (I know it’s got a shelf life, but I can never resist–so pretty!) Filled a fish bowl with Scrabble tiles, and another with random game pieces.  Bottlecaps in a canister, jar lids in a bin.  Tulle for the tutus (Chanukah for one, birthday for the other!) relegated to the sewing studio, waiting for me to get my act together.