Ninety-Seven Degrees is Too Hot for Sewing

So, in my attempt to become domestic and, possibly, attract a sister-wife with a lot of money and cleaning skillz, I have been sewing up a storm. A storm!

I have been participating in this great quilt-along over at The Old Red Barn blog.If you have never quilted, or are pretty new, this was a GREAT way to do it. Every week she had a new step. When I finish, my quilt will be almost Queen-sized. Which is highly awesome, but highly intimidating. I have some smaller blocks, leftover from cutting the bigger squares, though. And so I made someone in my family who may read this blog a birthday present**, because it is coming up soon and we ALWAYS crap out on her gift. Because she lives in freaking-Dubai and we can't really mail them anything because they end up having to double-pay for mail forwarding. Anyhoo, this is a glimpse.

THEN I made another blanket, this time for a baby in India. Because I am a giver. I found this website


which encourages crafters to spread the love. And you know how loving I am. And giving.
So I just made this little old thing
and am going to mail it off Monday or someping. (And if you want to jump on my bandwagon, they are accepting blankets, booties, and beanies until July 25.)

So there you go.

Also, I lost my camera and am having to take stills from the Flip Phone. Boo.

Also, W and Jooj got me a firepit for my birthday. Yay!

**Other family member who just had a birthday, your present is not on this blog. But it is awesome. Don't worry.

Why on Earth did I go to Grad School?

So, I made Jooj a dress. I have never made a dress before. It is quite unfortunate (the dress, not the fact that it has never been made)

During the dress debacle I thought about the whole "serious scholarly people who blog" vs. "me." And I think that there are a few reasons why my blog is neither profound nor intelligent nor free from references to poop:

1. Days of Our Lives. I am pretty sure Ayn Rand didn't watch the soaps. She was too busy being smart and philosophical. But wouldn't Anthem be better if it had a villian who wore an eye patch or a heroine who always had on just too much lipgloss? Yes it would have been.

2. I don't know that many words.

The end.

Emomsculated

I finished Jooj's blanket today.
Let me preface that with reminding you that I am not a good quilter. What I lack in skill, however, I make up with enthusiasm. And SPEED. The problem, I think, is you have to be precise. I learned on this one (only my second) that you cannot "eyeball" a quilt. You actually have to measure and re-measure. Gravy, I am not good with the measuring.

But I am not too concerned, because I know that this blanket will be a lovie. I do not expect it to make it to her graduation. And, mostly, because she really, really wanted it, and I wanted to bring her some happiness.
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I have been feeling low, as of late, in respect to my duties and role and destiny. A friend is currently on bed-rest, and has been spending her time chatting with me. Which is nice. I enjoy the chat. But the conversations tend to go like this:

Her: I am pregnant! I have life in my womb!
Me: Hooray for you!
Her: Jooj sure gets all of her _________ from her birth mother!
Me: Well, I am pretty _______, too...
Her: Yeah, but she also gets ______, and ______, and ______.
Me: Jooj is MY daughter, you know.
Her: Of Course She Is. But she has so much in common with her birth mother, too! SO much! They are like twins!
Me: ...
Her: I sure am glad I am filling the measure of my creation!

I exaggerate a bit. And I know that she means no ill. She is just young.

But many days of this sort of conversation takes its toll, you know. And I can't get it out of my head that I was given ONE job as a woman: To multiply and replenish. And I am doing neither, you know. Even with a calculator.
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Now, I know the spiel: I am her mother. ME. I am raising her, I am sealed to her, ME. I am her mother.

And yet.

I want so desperately to lay claim to everything that is hers. I want her smile to be MY smile. I want to see my grandfather in her cheeks, or my sister in her elbows. (But not her her teeth. Juju is prone to root canals.) I want to look at her and think "I Made That."

Which brings me back to the beginning of this post.

I can't give her elbows or teeth or cheeks or what-have-you, but I can give her joy. And it made her really, really happy that I was making her something. So happy that she proclaimed "Hooray! Hooray! Hop Hop!"

And I think that I mother a lot like I quilt--I do it kind of half-assed sometimes, and I eye-ball it quite frequently, and you won't find me pulling tons of seams in order to make it perfect for my blog posts or Flickr pool. It generally turns out wonky. But there is speed and enthusiasm. And I do it because it means something to me, and something to her.

And maybe I am not filling the measure of my creation--I have not multiplied, but there are times when I know I have replenished her little soul, replenished her faith, replenished her psyche, replenished her belly. I am doing the best job I can with the materials (or lack of materials) I have been given. And I am doing it for the least of these. So that should matter in the end, right? I think it will.

And I made her a matching one for the dollhouse. Because I know it would make her happy. See? Enthusiasm. And Speed.

Amember Me?

So, for all twelve of the readers, I will recap the past month. Mostly pics because I am too tired to use my brain and write words. But I am still thankful. I am especially thankful I don't have to live in the same house as Tyra Banks. So many wigs and so many accents.

The candy apple tree I made. Mini apples dipped in chocolate and stuck on sticks. Big hit.
Jooj hearing like a bat at the Discovery Science Center. She still can't hear me say "No le tocas!"

Identical Cousins.4999 sharp nails. But there's room for 5000. Any volunteers?

Almost to the top. No broken bones yet. Yet.

Stay tuned for beach, Mickey, fires, and Wind Power.

PS: Jooj woke up twice last night saying "Not another ephenant! (elephant)" No idea why.

Don't You Wish You Were Having a Girl?

My friend, Cindy, is anxiously awaiting the arrival of Christy Lee. And I am anxiously trying all sort of fabrics for the patterns I found.

Boys just aren't as fun to sew for.

Know Any Livers?

Jooj is modeling the apron for my neice. Can you guess her name?

Now I have about 1/2 of a yard of fabric left. Does anyone have an Olivia of their own that needs some personalized, slightly expensive, fabric? Because I only know the one...

Glue! I MUST Be a Good Mom!

And pipe cleaners!



And pom poms!
(I am only a few steps from Montessori Living every day--I can FEEL it!)
(And does it negate the excellent mommying if we immediately watched Dora after this? And Fraggles? Drat.)