Getting Ready

(Giveaway is still open--postcards inspired by the lake!)

I will be spending Saturday and Sunday taking a weekend intensive in mixed media through RISD continuing ed, so I've been gathering my materials and preparing for this very exciting (and somewhat intimidating) experience. I signed up because mixed media feels so challenging to me. I'm hoping to exit the weekend feeling far more confident with it. To add to the excitement, Karen is taking the class too. I am very much looking forward to meeting her in person.

Linking up with my creative space--lucky me, I get twelve hours of creative space this weekend!

Postcards Inspired By The Lake {Give-Away}

{Comments are now closed. Thank you all for your kind words and your interest! I'll be back in a day or two to announce the winners.}

When I came home from Squam, I wanted to send out a few thank-you notes. (I am a big fan of thank-you notes.) It seemed obvious that I'd make them. I wish I had photos of the process, but it's more like these grew, not that I created them, and I just never thought to photograph anything. I worked on them in bits and pieces, first cutting up some cereal boxes, then applying gesso to cover the pre-existing design, and then a coat of white acrylic paint. Then I began to play. I made eight total; here's five of them before I mailed them out.

I mixed some green, for the green of the lake. I added some texture with bubble wrap and a few circle prints in darker blue. Then I selected some of the photos I took and layered them with a painted frame. Finally, I used the birch leaf stamp I'd carved. The woods were full of birches, and while I do see them around here, I don't see that many of them, and I wanted to capture their presence on these cards. (You can click to make the photo bigger.)

I liked these so much, I wanted more of them. So I scanned three of them in and ordered some Moo postcards. Scanning them in allowed for the texture to really come through, but I wonder if using a photograph wouldn't have worked better in some ways. But I'm not sure my camera is good enough to capture a full-screen image for this purpose, without shadows getting in the way. Obviously, some more experimentation might be in order. But still, I love these postcards, too. Here's a close-up of one of them:

I wanted to send something along to my cabin mates as a souvenir of Squam and our cabin (in the top postcard's photograph, below). One woman in our cabin had made up little treat bags for all of us, with a notebook and pen and buttons (buttons!!). I wanted to reciprocate and to bookend that, in a way, so I made up a set of postcards for everyone. (The brown with the leaf print is the envelope to hold them.)

And here's the give-away part...I have two sets left over. Whether you've been to Squam, want to go to Squam, have admired it from afar, or just like to have pretty postcards (hopefully you think they're pretty) to send to your friends, leave a comment for a chance to win (two people will receive one set each). You can live anywhere in the world, as long as you have a mailing address, and you need to either make sure your contact email is in your profile, or leave it in your comment. I'll close comments in a week, 7 pm EST on Tuesday, July 3, and choose via the good old "pull a name out of a hat" method. Each set contains six postcards, two of each design.

I would love it if you'd also tell me...who was the last person you sent honest-to-goodness fun snail mail to? Besides mailing out these packages of postcards, my last fun mail was sent to my sister--I sent her one of the remaining original postcards.

The Bedside Stack

My bedside table is too small for a book, so my books tend to accumulate on the floor next to my side of the bed. Lately, it's gotten a bit out of control down there. I thought it would be fun to neaten up the stack a little and take a photo to share.

From bottom to top:

One World, Many Religions by Mary Pope Osborne. The kids and I are learning about world religions this summer, and I was pre-reading this book. The other book I'm using, Sacred Stories, was already out in the living room because we started with Buddhist stories. (Stories first, then some more factual background; that's my plan.)

Design-It-Yourself Clothes by Cal Patch. I bought this from Cal herself at the Squam Art Fair, but I think it's a bit beyond me. At least, every time I try to look through it, I get overwhelmed. I want to make a dress, but the dress uses one of the shirt patterns, so go make that first, it says, but that pattern is actually a modified version of another shirt pattern, and...I'll eventually try something from here. Maybe. I'd really, really like to feel competent enough to try, anyway.

Little Red in the City by Ysolda Teague. Also purchased at the Squam Art Fair, from Ysolda. I think I'll start with Cria. There is lots of useful information in here about fitting knitting patterns to your body and how to modify things, but it's hard to process because it's full of comma splices and run-on sentences. My husband makes fun of me when I say things like that, but I say, commas and periods send a different message to the brain. Periods are meant to come between separate complete thoughts (independent clauses, in grammatical terms). The ubiquity of run-on sentences is proof that many people's brains function just fine by stringing complete thoughts together without an end stop, but mine does not. (Also, no matter how common they are, they're still incorrect, grammatically, and have no place in a professionally published, beautifully designed book.) I may go through with a marker and edit it all, so I can read it without getting a headache. Other than that, useful book. Pretty patterns.

In the Days of the Pharaohs. From the library. I'm homeschooling* at least one child now (well, I suppose technically beginning in the fall, but I don't draw lines like that), and we'll be starting with ancient history. I checked this out to, well, check it out.

Science in Ancient Egypt. Same as above. I was intrigued by the title. I haven't read it all yet, so I can't tell you much about it.

Painted Pages by Sarah Ahearn Bellemare. I bought this a little bit ago in preparation for taking her online workshop next month. Exciting!

Cultivating Your Creative Life by Alena Hennessey. She gave a book talk at Squam one night, and I wanted to be supportive, so I bought her book.

Reinvention by Maya Donenfeld. She gave a book talk at the same time as Alena. I'd already decided I'd wait to buy this book from her in person. Her line was very, very long--which is why I went right from her table to Alena's. I want to start with some Tyvek projects, which means I need to remember how to log onto Freecycle and post to see if anyone has some they want to get rid of.

The first two Life of Fred books (upside down--whoops!). Again, pre-reading before sharing them with my eight-year-old, who, after three years of school, thinks he hates math.

Push Stitchery. Goodness, I ordered (and read through) this ages ago. It needs to find a home on a bookshelf!

*Herewith is the obligatory statement: I decided to homeschool because I feel it's the best thing for this particular child at this particular time. It's not a statement on what might be best for any other child or how I feel about his school or school in general. While the topic may trickle in here now and then, I have no intention of turning this into a homeschooling blog. This is my space.

So...have you been reading (or stacking) any good books lately??

Changing Rhythms {And Some Knitting}

It's summer. Rhythms are changing. All my kids are home--hurrah!--and we sat down to brainstorm what we might like to do this summer. We engage in cooperative list-making twice a year, for the summer and for the Christmas holidays. It was a suggestion I saw in a book on simplifying Christmas, the idea being that if you don't sit down as a family and talk about what you want to do, the family planner (me, in this family) might end up doing a lot of unnecessary work planning things that nobody would miss. Better to put the effort into activities everybody really wants to do. So together, the kids and I talk about where we want to visit, what we want to make, and what we want to do over the summer. This year, I decided to make the list a little prettier.

As you can see, there is room to add more as we think of it (we already have!). It's okay if we don't do all of this. Sturbridge Village is a carryover from last summer; we still haven't made it there. And we already have circus tickets. Not everything is big, either, or costs money. Some things are hopeful thinkings out loud. Everybody's ideas are on here.

We've already had our first of many beach visits--that's where we decided to spend a goodly part of the solstice, since it was predicted to be quite hot. We visited the barrier beach that has a salt pond side, too. The pond is shallow, with no waves, and I felt comfortable, this year, knitting a little bit while the kids played in the pond. My youngest is old enough for that now. (Still no knitting on the beach side, though.)

This is my take-along knitting, a second long, skinny Saroyan (since I liked the first one I made so much). I bought the yarn in December as a pick-me-up, the week my husband was away and the cat killed the TV and I finally went to the doctor and ended up diagnosed with Lyme. The colors reminded me of the ocean. It doesn't get serious attention, this knitting. I rarely work on it at home. It's the knitting I bring with me, mostly stockinette so I can hold a conversation, with just that bit of lace edging, and I can usually figure out where I left off in the repeat even if I forget to mark it down. I think it's entirely perfect that I was able to knit a few rows on a saltwater shore.

I'm linking up with my creative space, even though my creative space feels a bit sparse this week. It's all about (happily! so happily!) adjusting to new rhythms.

Squam Stories: Into the Woods

There is a me inside of me,
inside
the outside me
you see.

--Karla Kuskin

Back in January, I wrote that I was worried, after more than a decade of nearly constant company, that I may have forgotten how to be alone: "Somewhere buried within the organized, capable Mother is still the girl who would leave her apartment with nothing but some cash, lip balm, and a blank book; who landed in Paris without knowing a soul there; who was happy to spend hours just sitting and people watching with a notebook. Who felt that anything was possible and adventures definitely were for her. I want to take that girl to the woods of New Hampshire in June. I want to let her loose." 

I am so thrilled to report back that I am still completely comfortable by myself. It's such a good, life-saving quality, I think--the ability to be content with only your own company. Saturday afternoon I packed my backpack with some art supplies, my camera, and my water bottle, and I set out towards Longhouse, where my class had been that morning. I'd noticed the color of the water right there and wanted to get back to it.

I would have liked to try to catch that color green in watercolors, but it was so breezy I didn't think I'd be successful with the paper and paints, so I settled with trying to capture it with my camera, for later.

I'd brought a map of the camp with me and noticed there was a trail that followed the edge of the lake, so that's what I attempted to find. I took notice of whatever caught my eye. Interesting shadows--

Interesting textures--

I sat down on a bench with a dock and pulled out my sketchbook and colored pencils.

It's not a terribly good rendering of my view, but no matter. The words say, "It is strange to be around water that is not influenced by the tides."

Along the way, I took this rather goofy self-portrait.

That's me, perfectly happy, by myself in the woods.

And that's my final, most important story. I was able, over the course of those five days, to spend lots of uninterrupted time with the me inside of me. I affirmed that yes, I am just as interesting of a person, to myself, as I was before having children. I suspected this was true, of course, but it was important to me to prove it; I can't begin to explain why.

Thank you for coming along for these stories, which are just my unique way of sharing this experience. This is the last Squam story I'll be sharing in this space, although I have some projects inspired by my time there (and more to come, I'm sure). You can read many more Squam stories by many other attendees by checking out the list here.

Squam Stories: The Paddle Bit

On Thursday, I made a box.

This was in my first class, Three Tools with Terri Dautcher. I signed up for this class because my knowledge of Building Things With Wood is very minimal. I can use a hammer. I have built something with wood--a box, actually--years and years ago, in a short workshop offered by the art department in college, I think so art majors (and minors, like myself) could, potentially, build our own frames and stuff. Or not, in my case. Also, I signed up because I wanted to see inside Terri's studio. It didn't disappoint. She has everything in there; it's like it's a Wishing Studio, and as soon as you think, Oh, I could really use such-and-such, such-and-such appears.

But this story isn't exactly about the box, as you may have guessed by now. These Squam stories never are about the obvious. I will tell you that I'd originally pictured a much smaller box, and one a bit more decorated, but I liked the birch branch, and the branch dictated the rest of the design. Also, I may add more to it (possibly with that birch leaf stamp), but by late afternoon on Thursday I was so exhausted that I was content to let further adornment wait until I got home. This story, though, is about the paddle bit.

A paddle bit (also known as a spade bit) is this amazing type of drill bit that drills an exact circle. I used it to create the holes into which the birch branch fits.

You need to drill through the wood you want the hole in and into a piece of scrap wood underneath, so you don't go through into the table. I drilled a practice hole, and when I got nearly through the first piece of wood, the drill caught onto the second piece, and I guess, despite my best efforts, I wasn't holding the top piece firmly enough, and it went spinning around on the drill. I took my finger off the trigger, but it kept spinning a few more rotations. It was startling and scary. The piece of wood thwacked against my thigh, not enough to hurt, but enough to embed some splinters into my jeans. (Not my leg, just my jeans.) Okay, I thought. I know not to do that next time.

The real hole went a little better as far as flying wood goes, but I did splinter it a bit (nothing a little sandpaper couldn't handle). Because a branch isn't necessarily straight, like a dowel, I couldn't drill the holes in both side pieces at once, so I had one more hole to go. I'd marked it (turns out I could have done both at once; they lined up almost exact) and was holding the drill, poised, over my mark, when Terri walked by.

"Amy, do you want me to just do that last one for you?"

I sort of chuckled. "Do I look tense?" I asked. I was tense. Also, determined. "No, thank you. I'll do it." And I did. But I was exhausted by the end of that class, mentally and physically, all that concentration on something completely new, cutting the wood, drilling those holes, even nailing the damn thing together...my nails kept going in at an angle, and I'd try my hardest to line myself up with the nail...only to pull it out and try again.

But at the end of the day, I had a box. A HUGE box. With a bit of birch tree wood-burning on the ends, to go with the handle. I will probably add a bit more paint, and stamp some birch leaves on the sides, but these are the photos I wanted to share--taken on the screened-in porch of my cabin by the lake. Proof that I stared down the paddle bit and came out on the other side with a box.

Sewn: {Last-Minute} Teacher Tote

I'm so glad you all seem to be enjoying reading the Squam stories as much as I'm enjoying writing and sharing them. I have a couple more coming up, but tonight I wanted to share this last-minute teacher gift. I've been thinking of it as the "crazy bag" in my head, which isn't fair, because the bag itself isn't crazy. It's more me, kind of. Anyway, first the bag:

And excuse the poor lighting; I made it tonight and am gifting it tomorrow, so daylight photos aren't an option. Tomorrow, see, is the last day of school. It sort of snuck up on me, which is weird, because I've been counting down to it for months now. (I have a little song about school lunches, and how many more I had to make, to the tune of "100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall." And when I got home on Sunday, my husband said, "Packing the lunches sucks!" No kidding, I said. Haven't I been saying?) But anyway, this is the earliest we've ended since we started going to that school--no snow days this year. We did have four hurricane days right at the start, but we made up three over the course of the year. One year we had flood days--four of 'em. They are not kidding when they say anything goes, weather-wise, in New England.

So, right. If I'd have been here last week, I'd have been thinking of teacher gifts, but my husband was being me, and he is not the version of me that thinks of these things. Typically at the end of the year I try to do something for all the teachers and staff, rather than individually, like I try to do before the holiday break. So I'm bringing in two iced boxes of joe tomorrow morning to leave in the office. But my oldest has had the same teacher for three years in a row, and he's moving on, and we wanted to give her something besides the shared coffee. But what? Nothing seemed right. So at ten this morning I decided I needed to make her something, and I went and found this tote tutorial from Zaaberry that I'd pinned over a year ago.

Did I mention my sewing machine wasn't actually in my possession at that point? I'd left it to be serviced while I went away, and it was pouring yesterday so I didn't want to pick it up. I got it back this afternoon, came home, fed the younger kids lunch, decided upon fabric, and cut my pieces. Because my husband is away, I didn't get to start sewing this until 7:30, but it's a quick sew, at least. My one concession to time was to use the thread already in the machine, thinking I'd match fabric to it. But I decided the bag should be this linen combo, which doesn't really match blue, except I had no brown thread and nothing that would go any better than the blue, so I kept it.

Oh! Take a closer look at the leaf print.

That's a birch leaf stamp that I carved the other night. I just had to. I'm so delighted with it. It's going to show up on other projects...one I'm quite excited about but can't show you yet. I'm so pleased with this stamp, I decided it had to be incorporated in this bag--it's on both sides. I used liquid acrylic craft paint, both because I don't have brown textile paint and because it's quicker and works just as well for this sort of thing, and it doesn't need to be heat-set (and it still won't wash out).

The really cute thing about this bag (and the reason it has that great button, which came in one of my WhimseyBoxes) is that it folds up.

So his teacher can just have it in her bag and use it at the library or the farmers' market or wherever she may be this summer and in need of a re-usable bag. I'm kind of smitten with this bag altogether. We're going to say the blue thread was a design choice, and be very forgiving of the wiggliness of linen (I'd forgotten how it moves when you try to cut it, if I ever knew). My son, to his credit, also seemed pleased and appreciative and thought it was a good gift. I think he is also admiring of the way it folds up like that, like it's almost tactical or something.

I'm linking up with these creative folks (missed them last week!) and then I'm going to lie down...

Squam Stories: Into The Lake

This is the story of Saturday afternoon--part of it, that is--and how I fell into the lake. But that's not really the point of the story...

Every cabin has its own dock. This is mine. It doesn't really play a part in this story, but it's a pretty picture.

I ate dinner on that dock one night, and lunch the next day, sitting in the sun and reading my library book, which (oops) almost fell into the lake once. I knit on that dock with cabin mates. But Saturday afternoon, returning from a solitary (and perfectly great) tromp through the woods, I saw one of my cabin mates lying down on the dock. I wasn't sure if she was awake; she'd had a migraine earlier. I didn't want to disturb her. My cabin seemed otherwise deserted. The cabin next door, though--I could hear shrieks of laughter coming from their dock. It sounded like fun over there. I'd met one of the residents earlier, as I was setting out on my woods tromp. We talked for a bit. She was friendly. I'm friendly.

But groups...groups intimidate me. There, I admitted it. I didn't want to intrude. Maybe they wouldn't want company from the next cabin over. I turned back towards my own dock, but my cabin mate was still lying down, facing away; I really didn't want to disturb her. And it sounded like so much fun next door, too. So I went against all my normal instincts and walked over. Their dock was full of women, but they made room for me, too. Since I'd been hiking, I had no knitting, so I just sat with my water bottle, feet in the water, and enjoyed the sunshine and the company. I was still a little out of my comfort zone, but what the hey, I'd been out of my comfort zone since I'd left my own driveway, really. Soon another woman joined us, a very pregnant woman, and we joked about the dock handling all the weight. There had to be close to a dozen of us. About five minutes later....CRACK! Splash!

The dock collapsed. I went in up to mid thigh (I had to peel my jeans off later). We all got wet. Since nobody got hurt (and the pregnant woman was fine), it's a really funny story. Don't believe me? Look at this dock.

All the knitting was saved, and the embroidery projects with Sulky Solvy, too (yarn will dry; Sulky Solvy just...disappears). When I got home Sunday afternoon, it was fun to just drop into conversation, "I really need to shower, I haven't showered since yesterday after I fell into the lake." But the real story is that I was there at all, that I shut up that little voice that was saying, It will be easier just to go back to your cabin alone and instead listened to the one that said, But it sounds so fun over there.

It was. It was fun over there.

And that's the story of how I came to be on the dock that collapsed and plunged a bunch of women into the lake on Saturday afternoon.

Squam Stories: Knitting on the Porch

Hey, y'all. I'm back. After thinking it over, I decided the best way to share about Squam was by periodically showing a photo and telling you the story behind it. It's hard to summarize the entire experience, but I can say that the biggest gift of this short time away was mentally handing the responsibility for the kids over to my husband. I realized that my brain quieted in the woods; I was responsible for nobody but me. My cell phone didn't even work in my cabin. I called my husband to check in once or twice each day, walking the path towards the dining hall with my phone in an outstretched hand, triangulating for a bubble that AT&T reached. But before I left I made sure school knew to email and call him, not me. Whatever was going on, it wasn't my responsibility. I didn't realize how quiet my brain had become until the drive home. It had switched back on fully by the time I reached Boston. That quiet in my head, what a gift.

So, this photo. I love it. It was taken by a cabin-mate who was also a classmate in Fiona Ellis's class, which we took split between Friday afternoon and Saturday morning. I was sitting on the porch knitting the same wee triangle over and over, trying to get what I wanted and failing each time. I look so relaxed, but in truth I was just about ready to throw the yarn into the lake--which I could see through those windows right there. As the afternoon wore on I was feeling worse and worse, with an upset stomach and a descending brain fog that made me feel thick and stupid. Something not-good had sneaked into my lunch somehow (I felt better by about 8 that night, although I skipped dinner). Luckily I am aware enough of symptoms to realize that my stupid-feeling was just that, a symptom, and not evidence that the class was beyond me. I was able to approach the second half the following morning with a much clearer head. In the meantime, I just knit that same triangle over and over, knitting and ripping, knitting and ripping, and what better place to do it than on the porch of a cabin, looking at a lake, sitting next to someone who made me laugh all weekend?

That's the story of this favorite photo and of Friday afternoon.

Squam State of Mind

You'll know me by my tiara...

Everything I wrote five months ago about my Squam-related anxiety is still true, to one extent or the other, but it's all been boiled down to two main thoughts, flip-flopping through my head as I pack.

I'm going to miss my kids like crazy and I want to take that girl into the woods.

Honestly, I don't have many expectations of the next five days. Tomorrow morning I'll get up, get my big kids off onto the bus (hopefully; they're both home sick today), send my daughter off to her music class with her daddy, finish packing, and pick up a fellow Squammie at the local train station so we can ride up together. (She needed a ride and posted she was willing to take the train from Connecticut to Boston. How about to Rhode Island, I offered. So I'll pick her up at the station ten minutes away. It'll be nice to have company on the ride up, too.)

I do, however, plan to be out of contact. My cell phone is only good for making and taking calls, and I'm not sure how good the reception will be anyway. My husband can get ahold of me if necessary, and I can call to say hi to the kids. I can't tweet, text, or post pictures from my phone (I've kept it that way thus far by choice; when I am out in the world, I want to be out in the world, not in a screen). I thought about leaving my laptop at home but decided to bring it just in case I want to research places to stop on the ride home--it's helpful to do that ahead of time if I think I'm going to want to stop for lunch, since you can't always tell where you might find gluten-free food on the road. But I don't plan on checking or sending email, posting pictures, or, well, being in a screen while I'm away. I'll report back next week--this also gives me time to soak it up, take it in, and think about it before talking about it.

I am bringing way too much stuff for someone who used to travel light. I have a bag of yarn odds and ends and needles for one of my classes, a backpack full of various art supplies (although I'm not sure the weather is going to cooperate with any attempts at plein air painting), my box of embroidery floss (because I offered to teach anyone who wants a floss bracelet how to make one, since this is, after all, sleep-away camp), clothes for all temperatures, and I'll be bringing a bag of food and a cooler, too, because of my own food issues. I'm bringing my two current knitting projects, but I'm not sure how much free time I'll spend knitting. Knitting (and embroidery too) pulls me down and in, focused on what I'm doing, and I would rather be up and out, noticing what's around me--which is why I'm bringing the drawing and painting supplies. And I'm also bringing binoculars and my bird book, because I think I'll wish I had, if I don't. And I really, really want to hear loons, and see them too, if possible.

I'm not sure I ever mentioned which classes I'm taking. I'm starting with Three Tools, because I know nothing about woodworking, and am also taking Dive Into Design, because it sounded like it would apply not just to knitting but also translating what I see into other forms as well. I believe I'm also down for the Squam Extra Manipulating Stitch Patterns, but I think those are very loose and if I'd rather have the free time, that's okay too.

So, I will report back next week on my little get-away. Here I go...

Saturday Sewing: A Skirt For Mama

Yesterday I was awakened at 5 am by the sound of pouring rain. (I went back to sleep, no worries!) This worked perfectly into our no-plans Saturday; I wanted to sew a skirt for myself anyway. So I spent the day turning this

into this:

It's hard to see the ties there, but they're of the same fabric. I made this with a drawstring waist. Perfect? Nope. If I'm going to make more of these (and I think I am), I'm going to have to get comfortable with the buttonhole foot on my sewing machine. I did these two by hand, which definitely gives me more control but takes much longer, and probably isn't quite as neat--although I don't know, the one time I tried my buttonhole foot, it didn't seem all that fantastic, really. Also, the casing is a little (accidentally) gathered in one spot, but since the skirt itself gathers with the drawstring, it's not a huge deal. I don't expect anyone will be investigating my waistband anyway. (That's a bit too personal, no?)

Here's another view, from the back:

This skirt is really comfortable and flow-y. I love the line of it. It's a simple A-line, drafted using Sew What! Skirts. I used their suggested minimum of 2-inch ease for the top width, but I think I could go down to one. On the other hand, I like the slope from the waist to the hem the way it is now. And as you can probably tell from the one-day sewing, this was very easy to make.

And hey, look what the kids and I scored on Friday:

Someone was Freecycling wooden cigar boxes. Having never seen any before, I was picturing something less polished, that we could decorate and use for treasure boxes. We like these the way they are, but we could still personalize the inside covers, if we wanted. There are five boxes, and five of us, so we'll each get one. (The big people in the family are rather taken with these, too.) I plan to use mine for paper ephemera. I don't usually respond to Freecycle posts; it's often not anything I want, and if I do, it's already taken. But this actually worked out, and I had two of the three kids with me when I picked them up, and goodness, were we excited.

I hope you're enjoying your weekend! Today is sunny, but not too hot. Oh, and the cowbird chicks fledged...the whole story (with pictures) is here. Just so you're warned, it didn't end well for the phoebe's eggs.