Merry & Mod at home

Easter basket

For my mom, we created basket of painted papier mâché eggs, and crocheted little urchin sea stones, collected and scavenged from our summer vacation at the Oregon Coast.

Simple, pretty, handmade - a few of my favorite things. 

 

 

 

even a little

Do you remember this forsaken cardigan? As you can see, it is no more.

The experience of pulling out all those careful stitches was liberating, even a little exhilarating. Satisfying. I am designing a new project that I have been dreaming of for months. I can't wait to get started....

patches and patches

A recent repair to a favorite hoodie. This delicate cashmere is no match for my razor sharp elbows. After years of wearing this sweater, it was nearly written off for good. Until I remembered this pattern for little crocheted hearts, and the leftover yarn from a favorite hat. An evening crocheting in front of the fire, a bit of sewing, and it's a favorite again for a whole new reason. 

(Note to self: chickens and cashmere don't go together very well.)

I used the same yarn to repair a tear under the arm and along the cuff. It's a shabby-chic-upcycle sort of thing...

And while we're on the subject of repairs...my six year old son has managed to tear a hole in the left knee of four of his five pairs of jeans. We spent an hour together cutting up outgrown pants and sewing on patches. The next Monday he puts on his navy courduroy cargo pants, which are so adorable on him, and comes home with...a hole in the left knee. It's a blessing that cutoff season is fast approaching. 

a cardigan for me and Lorraine

I learned to crochet as a young girl from a neighbor named Lorraine. She grew up in Louisiana. She smoked skinny cigarettes and exhaled out her nose, precisely tapping her ash with a well-manicured index finger. Her family room where we would sit and visit was paneled in wood and decorated with owls. Her blond hair was always up in an immaculate French twist, though she was widowed and lived a quiet life alone. She fed an orange alley cat that would only consent to be petted by her. Lorraine taught me to flirt...coy glances and arched brows...and once suggested that I should attempt to turn a boy's attention from his girlfriend to me. ("After they're married, as far as I'm concerned, they're dead. But until then....)

And she crocheted. Ripple afghans in all color combinations. She made a lovely cream colored afghan for me before I left for college. It has traveled everywhere with me ever since; even now, eighteen years later, I sleep under it's warmth every night. I consider myself lucky to have received it, fortunate that she thought me so deserving of her time and care.

\

All of this is a rather unexpected and roundabout way to say that I have crocheted myself a cardigan. Over the course of autumn and winter, in fits and starts, bursts of energy or languid stitches. Eventually, all the seams are sewn, the stray ends woven in, the trim completed. Done. 

It's just OK. It's warm and comfortable and imminently suitable for lazy, chilly days at home. Of which I have many. It doesn't fit exactly as I imagined: the sleeves are rather short, the front sides are too narrow, the pattern lacks any shaping through the back and shoulders. 

But the fit and the end result are not the point of the exercise. I began a project and I finished it. For myself. On my own schedule. I am deserving of my time and care. 

 

 

 

quilts for twin boys

Last weekend I had the rare opportunity to travel to Portland all by myself. Friday included lunch with a dear family friend, an afternoon at the museum, ramen noodles and old fashioneds. It was rejuvenation at it's very best; just what mama needed.

On Saturday, I attended a baby shower for a very dear friend about to welcome two twin boys into her life. I spent the evening with her, cooking dinner and reading letters from my past - from my year in France, from the month following my wedding, from the summer during college when I crashed the car...twice. It was enlightening and entertaining. Most of all, it was marvelous to sit with a friend of 16 years, admiring her abundantly beautiful belly, and to know that our friendship had survived so much history, and will create so much more. 

Preparing for the trip, I debated with myself the best gift. To make something by hand - when it was far too late for an heirloom crochet blanket; or to purchase something stylish and practical, like my favorite swaddling blankets.

In the end, I decided that she probably has many stylish friends and family members to purchase gifts from her registry. Better to go handmade. So I spent a blissful hour wandering the fabric shop, looking for just the right pattern and colors. That night I sewed up two simple quilts filled with a thick wool batting...the perfect warm layer for a walk in the stroller. (Which is what I would do with twin boys every morning - directly to the nearest coffee shop, which are, thank goodness, plentiful in her neighborhood.) 

This last minute project even included a pair of cozy gray booties. The babies won't arrive for over a month, and these simple boots work up in about 40 minutes each. Plently of time to create another pair. I certainly wouldn't want baby B to feel left out with chilly toes! 

snow day magic child

We were blessed to wake up to a winter wonderland last weekend. Snow days have been few and far between this winter. I've never lived in a truly cold climate; so on mornings like this, I always feel a child-like sense of awe and magic. It's snowing! The world is white, covered in a quiet blanket, and our footsteps crunch along the path as our family ventures out in search of adventure.

Before long, someone is cold and hungry and must go inside. And so my youngest made himself a cozy spot in front of the fire as he waited patiently for his hot chocolate. He looked so sweet and so young, cuddled there under the mop of hair he refuses to trim. I remembered making this blanket for him when I was pregnant, feeling him move inside me and wondering who he would be. I could never have imagined or dreamed this magic child.

This is my first completed crochet project. Created, I might add, with yarn that I bought when I learned I would become an auntie for the first time. My niece, who has never received a handmade blanket from me, is now 9. Oh well. This summer at the beach she was cuddling with a worn gray teddy bear; it was so changed from the soft yellow fellow I gave her as a baby I didn't even recognize it. She knows her auntie loves her.

The making is so much more about the process. I would work on the blanket before leaving for work, while my oldest - so young at the time - watched Sesame Street before preschool. I dreamed about moving to a smaller town, about staying home, about creating a new life with my family. We have built this new life - complete with snow days, homemade bread, chickens and homegrown tomatoes, family dinners, and no commutes - for us and our boys and we are thrilled with the results.

My sweet baby boy is growing before my very eyes. I treasure him.

* The pattern is the Tiramisu Baby Blanket from Posy Gets Cozy. Once upon a time a cream silk ribbon wove around the edge and tied with a delicate bow. Though it was lovely, it was quickly deemed impractical, for obvious - and boyish - reasons.

 

 

gallery of neglected projects

Sometimes I feel as though my crochet bag* holds a stash of shameful secrets; it has become a sort of purgatory for unfinished projects. For a while this spring, I was fired up to complete so many things for myself. It's laughable: my goal was to finish a different sweater every month in June, July and August. Ha! When I am tending my tomatoes in the rising heat and rinsing dirty children off with the hose, do I really want to sit peacefully under a growing pile of wool or alpaca? 

Now it's November. I cuddle in front of the fire or under my down comforter and soothe my frazzled mind with loop after loop, row upon row. The brown sweater below grows steadily, destined to become a fluffy cardigan in oatmeal colored wool with lacy cuffs and ruffles circling the hem. 

This aubergine wrist warmer has not seen any action since March. Only a few rows from being complete, I think the prospect of having to make an identical twin became discouraging. The yarn is so fine it's nearly thread, and is spun out of the softest lambswool imaginable. As I type, I'm wearing a purple sweater that would complement them perfectly and my fingers are chilly. Perhaps this deserves a fresh look. After all, it's always nice to have a small project that can fit in my purse for stolen moments out and about....

And finally, the Kristi Cardigan. Using a gorgeous blend of alpaca and silk in a favorite shade of shamrock green, it's just a few rows from being complete. The pattern is lovely, but a few weeks ago I discovered I had been following the instructions for the textured post-spike stitch incorrectly. Could I live with it? It fits without any ease, and I worry that it will be too tight to be comfortable. Do I want to spend so much money on yarn to end up with an overly snug sweater I only wear on 'skinny' days? And how often would I wear a short sleeved sweater in this climate anyway?

Alas, it is destined to be unraveled. I want a perfect finished object or none at all. (Selfishly, this is perhaps most important to me because the final result is meant to be mine.) Oh well. As I once read on SouleMama, the benefit of unraveled work is more crochet. More soothing loops and rows. 

This gorgeous yarn with the lustrous sheen and soft drape will become a new project, which I already spend inordinate amounts of time envisioning. Something special, of my very own design. And perfect for Spring. 

In the meantime, I'll attend to the warm wool cardigan, and reconsider my chilly fingers.

* Isn't that bag gorgeous? It's beautifully made by my mother-in-law, who is an incredible seamstress. Inside are all sorts of thoughtful details, like plenty of pockets for needles, scissors and crochet hooks. It makes me happy every time I look at it.

 

 

mama's little barbarians

They are only slightly civilized.  They revel in tearing their meat from the bone with their teeth.  If they had a boat, they would sail it to distant lands in search of discovery.  (One hopes that upon arrival they would show more courtesy than their ancestors.)  They are immune to freezing temperatures.  As brothers, they are quick to argue, but they always stand together in battle.    

They are Mama's little barbarians.  They are ready for marauding and mayhem.  

And a much smaller hat - with the addition of a pair of braids - is ready for a friend's sweet little baby.  I doubt she is a barbarian, but I figure this is the hat she wears when she's really belting it out.  

[Finally, pattern found here.]

warm hands, happy birthday

I'll just be honest.  I began these hand warmers as a project from my stash for myself last summer.  By my estimation they only took a few hours - stretched out in five and ten minute snippets over four months.  As summer rolled into fall, I just didn't feel right about keeping them.  Not when they coordinate so easily with Mom's birthday scarf from last year.  And especially not when I recognized the possibility of completing a handmade birthday gift before Christmas, instead of well after the birthday festivities.  

I was happy to wrap them up and send them on their way.  Though I did enjoying staging this little self-portrait photo shoot.  This lovely yarn is a luxuriously soft blend of silk and alpaca.  Fortunately, I still have a skein left to create something special for myself.  (Unless I decide to go for a three-peat next year!)    

decking, part I

Even though these pages have been quiet, there has been plenty of making at home recently.  Check back here the week after Christmas and you'll learn that frugal holiday giving is perhaps the best.  These Christmas stockings were a breeze to complete.  The boys were so excited to see them finished and hung by the fireplace.  I'm enjoying the playful, modern color scheme contrasted with the old fashioned pattern.  As a little girl, my brothers and I all had granny square crocheted stockings.  These remind me of old traditions and new loves all at the same time.