Craftsifaction

I was able to channel my strong desire to create and sew my own wedding dress into some other projects. I finally finished a side table/bench I've been working on since early autumn, when I dumpster-dived (curb-scavenged, really) for this worn, old bench in my neighborhood, which I rescued from town dump oblivion by lifting from the roadside and spiriting home in my arms under a light drizzle.



I spray-painted the legs red...thinking it would be nice to have some color in the house. I then took to gutting the moldy cushion, unveiling a flat piece of wood.



Then came the winter, and with it, a crisis of identity and lack of utility for the bench project, and a bout of Seasonal Affective Disorder for me, preventing me from leaving my bed, let along mustering the creative energy to face the red-legged bench.

Alas, the sun came out in late February, bringing with it a desire to undo the red, bring back light. So I painted the legs off-white, wiped the top to make sure no mustiness remained, and cut to size a length of decorater fabric (given to me as a birthday gift by my Sandy in Austin, along with an old copy of Vogue Sewing...she knows me so well!).

I glued down the fabric, smoothed it, cut the edges, and glued it under...



...and, voila!



I am going to put on this bench a lovely flower lamp that used to belong to my grandmother, and that my mother brought with her, with love, in an airplane carry-on from the west coast. The moral of this post: accomplish your work in your own time, in your own way...go with the flow because S.A.D. and winter will have their way, but you will have the last laugh...and the last craft.

Wedding Dress Blues

I am heading toward dangerous territory…convincing myself that I can make my own wedding dress.  Yikes!  Somebody stop me before I do it!  Really, I went to a dressmaker yesterday in Royal Oak, a funky burb of Detroit, to talk about having a dress made.  Don’t get me wrong, there are many beautiful dresses out there, and many of them would be fine.  If I am going to go beyond “fine,” though, then I will need to be more involved in the dress’ creation.

What I want:  a light, light blue dupioni silk, with creamy ivory or ecru accents…fabric flowers, feathers, ribbon, just some type of accent.  Slightly flared skirt, simple bodice – either strapless or scoop neck.  And a creamy ivory or ecru bolero jacket or shrug to wear during an outdoor ceremony.  Bottomed off by a pair of natural colored cowboy boots.  Sound fantastic to me…doesn’t exist.  So it has to be made or I have to give up on it.  And seeing as how the wedding is still 7 months away, I can’t give up on it just yet. 

Well, on the phone the dressmaker told me the average price for floor-length wedding dresses by her was between $500 and $1100.  But after setting foot in her door and showing her my ideas, it somehow shot up to $1300, not including the bolero/shrug.  The nice thing about this is it includes all alterations and fabrics.  The not nice thing about this is that the dress I have in mind truly is a simple cut, so despite my lack of expertise in sewing dresses I am pretty confident that this would be a simple dress, at least pattern-wise.  I asked her how to get the price down a bit and she said I could get a less expensive fabric than dupioni.  The only problem with that is that one of the reasons those dresses in wedding store display windows are “fine” is the yards and yards of satiny, polyester stuff that does not appeal to the touch or the eye.  So I am not negotiating on that.

Which leads to my Saturday night plans.  I am going to hunt for dress patterns and material.  And then I am going to give some serious thought to making my life slightly miserable for a little while and putting together my own dress.  Stay tuned…

Laissez le Bon Temps Rouler...er, donde esta el sol????

Mardi Gras has come and gone, leaving in its wake 40 days to reflect on death and resurrection, a concept well illustrated by Michigan's kindergarten-strict adherence to the classic four season timeline. We got winter when the official winter season began some time in December. We will get spring when the official spring season begins, some time around Easter, which is April 4th this year. Like Jesus' biblical journey back to life, the tulips and daffodils will emerge from the earth once again. Until then, though, that somber reminder...from dust you came and to dust you shall return.

Well, it's not as if I have literally been reflecting matters of life and death since last Wednesday, especially not with all the recent springy weather. This Friday I had my sunroof open. Today I had my car windows down as I ran errands. I basked in the sunshine. I did not once use the car sunroof when I lived in the desert, but I now use it every so often to augment winter sunbreaks (my Seattle sister's term). This sunbreak is just about over, though, with a winter storm warning to last through the week. The past few weeks, we have had snow during the week, then warmer weather toward week's end, which foiled Fiance's and my plan to explore local cross-country ski trials. So we are hoping this week will not end in weather warm enough to melt all the snow (though this is the last time I will say that this year...after this week, it is all pray for spring pray for spring pray for spring).

Back to Mardi Gras. Being one who loves to embrace other cultures, particularly when it comes to food, I made a traditional King Cake...this is a Louisiana thing. It apparently originated in France. I have had delicious King Cake before, and mine came out okay, but like many yeast-based creations of mine, was a bit dense, and by Day 2, a bit brick-like. King Cakes can be shared from the Feast of the Epiphany (always on January 6th) up to Mardi Gras (this year February 17th), and I shared mine 2 weeks before Mardi Gras. It went over well, because even after a ridiculous amount of preparation and baking, it tasted exactly like a cinnamon roll, and who doesn't like a cinnamon roll? But next time, I will follow the recipe I found on some "work smart not hard" person's blog which went something like this: open one of those cylindrical cans of raw cinnamon rolls, shape it into an oval, bake, ice, and sprinkle with some sugar you bought already colored gold, green, and purple (that's right, I used food coloring to custom-color my sugar!). Though if you are a glutton for punishment, check out the Southern Living recipe I used at http://find.myrecipes.com/recipes/recipefinder.dyn?action=displayRecipe&recipe_id=1152929. I actually have a hard copy of the recipe, clipped from my grandma's magazine - the hard copy tells you how to make your own colored sugar: simply add a few drops of food coloring to a small bowl of sugar and wisk until combined.

But since I live in Detroit and not New Orleans, I would be remiss not to mention the paczki, the ubiquitous Polish Mardi Gras treat. I went to the nearby Looney Baker in Livonia (if you are ever in town you must get their apple cider donut...mmmm) to pick up paczki for the Fiance and I to share. The girl who helped me at the counter said they had been extremely busy trying to meet all the special orders for paczki that come in that time of year. Hmmm, I thought, these paczki must really be something! To be honest, I was a bit disappointed, though this should not reflect on the excellent Looney Baker (which sports a blow-up Homer Simpson eating a donut during the Christmas season). The paczek (singular form) is basically a jelly donut, though you can also get a custard-filled. The difference, as far as I can tell, is better ingredients, but I have never been a fan of jelly donuts, so alas, I did not have any point of comparison. I sincerely apologize if this critique offends paczki fans - I have had only one experience with the paczki so far, but will gamely give it a try next year - who am I to pass up a donut?

A Date Downtown

Fiance and I went on a rare date last night (to put it in perspective, before last night, our dating life was scheduled to be placed on the Endangered Species List). He won tickets to a Red Wings game at work, so the destination was downtown Detroit. To begin the night, we decided to take in a word-of-mouth favorite, Slows BarBQue. Apparently, famous people like the Rolling Stones and Bill Clinton consider it a must-go when in Detroit (and I ask you, when in Detroit? Not since I've lived here!). Anyways, I am not so foolish as to ignore a commendation from Bill Clinton regarding homestyle eats, so we Googlemapped our way to Corktown, the Irish neighborhood downtown where Slows is located. Slows faces the deserted and barb-wired Michigan Central Station, a building which never fails to fill me with awe (and regret that it sits there abandoned).

The picture, by yours truly, is shaky, a result of not using a flash or something, I don't know, I am terrible at taking photographs. It's hard to see, but some tagger lacking a fear of heights or an instict for self-preservation sprayed "Save the Depot" near the top of the building. Slows is basically surrounded by rundown buildings and small businesses that don't look too booming...I guess some years ago this is where my Irish family would have congregated, had I grown up in Detroit, but now it doesn't look like too many people consider this as a destination neighborhood for much other than barbeque.

At Slows, Fiance and I had The Best Macaroni and Cheese Ever There Was. I will not accept any comparisons or alternate best-mac'n'cheese comments from anybody unless they first taste Slows' mac'n'cheese, end of story...that is an open invitation to meet me at Slows to resolve any debate. I felt a strong urge to photograph my own plate of mac'n'cheese after taking a few bites, to commemorate the event, but was frankly too embarrassed. So I finished it off, along with amazing ribs and brisket, and washed it all down with some local microbrews. I unfortunately had to change my plans for dessert, due to extreme fullness...I was so disappointed I had to pass on the Chuck Norris, a dessert that will kick you in the face! (If my dear readers would like to see a picture of the famous mac'n'cheese or the much-desired Chuck, check out http://www.slowsbarbq.com/.) The place was packed with red-clad diners who'd had the same idea as us. We finished up and waddled to the car to proceed the mile and a half (can't walk after eating that food!) to Joe Louis to watch the Wings...lose to the San Jose Sharks in a shootout.

I looovve going to hockey games! And it is even better when you have good seats, row 16 in our case, right behind the goal. After pro baseball, pro hockey is my favorite in-person spectator sport (sorry football - though this statement excludes Longhorns football, which actually trumps baseball and hockey). And Red Wings fans are crazy...a lot of them are little old ladies, who fit into the cute but crazy category. Detroit is Hockeytown U.S.A., after all. Though the Wings lost, it was a great time, and a great date! And to top it off, we were able to get out of the Joe parking garage in less than 2 minutes, an amazing coup upon which I still marvel!

This little boy waved his hat around the whole game to get on the Jumbotron, mission accomplished toward the end of the 3rd period...hooray!

The Optimists Club that Imploded

I went to my business networking meeting this morning, usually an upbeat experience despite trekking across southeast Michigan to what feels like the farthest outpost to still qualify as "Ann Arbor." Today was really no different, though that darn elevator speech of mine still needs work! One of my co-networkers talked about some event with a club where he holds the presidency, The Optimists Club, and someone asked him about the club's branch in Manchester. "The Manchester club broke up a few years ago...politics...lots of fighting..." I thought this was really funny, the inability of a bunch of optimists to get along.

What the heck is the Optimists Club anyway? It seems like it would be a club full of happy, nice, positive people, so how did an entire branch implode? Are they like the rest of us after all, or worse, like the people who shop at Whole Foods...I used to operate under the impression that the people who shop at Whole Foods are (a) happy because they get to eat super-healthy super-vitamin super-foods devoid of the toxins us Kroger people regularly ingest, and (b) happy because they have enough money to shop at Whole Foods! I found out quickly that both (a) and (b) were just textbook examples of me being misguidedly optimistic about the qualities possessed by others, a fault I must admit as an incurable Pisces. After several trips to Whole Foods (usually only to get Redwood Hills Farms Goats Milk Yogurt - worth the trip! See http://www.redwoodhill.com/). I realized that Whole Foods shoppers are just like everyone else, but worse...a little more self-absorbed at the helm of the cart, a little more pushy in the parking lot (We have yoga and meditation classes to get to, people!). Okay, so maybe my own lower-middle-class jealousy-tinged bias colors my judgment, but the point is, I will never join a club with a name that forces me to call attention to the fact that at times I have little reason to be optimistic about my fellow human beings. Better to join a group with Network in the name, populated by the surly, the tardy, the sleepy, the average, and be pleasantly surprised when the same demonstrate their kindness, their generosity, their humor, and their greatness. Let's not call out these qualities with a label demanding an attitude that a human being cannot possibly always maintain, but quietly work toward the good...to me, that is truly optmistic.

So, soapboxing aside, a name is just a name, and I have no idea what the Optimists do or what their mission statement is. And after hours on the Internet today, I have no desire to search out the answer that is no doubt at the tip of my fingers. Rather, I choose to speculate about this poor club who never did anything to me...aaahh, the power of the Internet.

This topic really derives from my own inability to be optimistic right now. I never like the night of the State of the Union address, but especially dislike this year...please hold the applause...and please don't give standing ovations (never mind a Nobel Peace Prize) until I have health insurance, a steady stream of income, a decent home value, and the assurance that the Great Lakes fishing industry won't be destroyed within a year for a certain somebody's hometown politics! (See http://www.nwf.org/News-and-Magazines/Media-Center/News-by-Topic/Wildlife/2010/01-06-10-Obama-Administration-Miscalculates-Risk-Asian-Carp-Pose-to-Great-Lakes-Economy.aspx). And if I can't have any of these things right now, then I'm going to skip the speech, watch something on Netflix, and wait for the sunshine.

The Thaw

I write this post in a mood of optimism. I have moved into a physical office, have a potential client visiting me tomorrow at said physical office, and most importantly, the physical world all around me is being nice - a relatively balmy temp in the high 30s and the days are already getting longer! I love it. I do hope we get another good snow soon, though, because Fiance and I are itching to check out the cross-country ski offerings of our fair winter wonderland. We had a good snow last week, but spent Saturday morning researching cross-country skiing options and by the time we were set, the day was gone. Life moves at you pretty quick...not much time to debate, just do it.

My college football fan-dreams ended two weeks ago in defeat. The beloved Texas QB Colt McCoy ended the last game of his college career 56 gameclock minutes early, leaving a true freshman QB to struggle through what I hope will be the toughest game of his college career (of his college and pro career, why not?). Despite my sadness at the game results, I and probably most other Longhorn football fans felt a little upended by the crazy game. Without Colt, we were left to ponder what would have been...but none of that pondering went on for me until after the game ended, and even then I pondered swiftly and dismissed it, because you've got to play the game you suited up for, no matter the consequences, not the game you hoped would take place. I think a lot of people get off track in their lives because they see a game played on another field - Hollywood, whatever - and want to play that game, not the one they suited up for, the one right in front of them. So they waste time thinking about the other, better game that they would be winning if only...and don't focus on the one they've averted their eyes from. I've been guilty of that, probably every person has. The important thing is to wake yourself up, get your head straight, and play your own game on your own terms, and respect yourself because you did the best you could do.

So I took from that game (Texas v. Alabama, by the way) the lesson that you can't win them all, you have to respect the winner (or else how can you respect your own performance?), and you have to move on. Like McCoy. One week he loses the most important game in college football. The next week he gets engaged. Not a bad turnaround.

...And college basketball is in full swing...Hook 'em Horns!

Remember December

So I'm back again, almost a month since my last post. Wow, December tends to fly at the speed of sound. That sound being the Rat Pack Christmas album, the best darn Christmas album there is, though the Beach Boys harmonize a very close second.

Still waitressing, don't want to talk about it.

I may be moving into an actual office, which will hopefully spring me into the thick of my profession! Will keep you posted....

Now down to business. For Christmas I got crafty this year, a euphemism for frugal, which itself is a euphemism for cheapo. So I made the Fiance's niece and nephew a puppet theater out of the hideous giant medicine cabinet that actually hung in our tiny bathroom (shrinking it even smaller) when we moved in. We removed the monstrosity and hung a flat mirror in its place. Hey, we don't have children yet, we have plenty of room to choose form over function. On with the puppet theater.

I took this thing, which only would have hit us in our heads in our tiny bathroom, and removed the doors and hinges. I washed it (it had baby powder on it - eewwww) and primed it.

After priming, I painted it with chalkboard paint from Home Depot (they also have dry-erase board paint!) on the sides, front, and the "display area" top (which was the bottom in the yucky powder vanity). Then I painted the bottom insides and very top part light blue (left over from painting our kitchen). And then, handy Fiance removed these little curtain rod holders from above the kitchen windows (where we now have wide-slatted blinds), and screwed them into the top front of the puppet theater, into which I fit the gold curtain rod that came from either the kitchen or some other formerly curtained window in our home. Then I cut some felt into the shape of fake grass and water and glued it to the bottom of the theater. I recoated the chalkboard paint twice. Then I rested. For a bit.


Then came the part I dreaded and put off, literally until Christmas morning: I cut some red velvet velour fabric I've had for years into two panels, the approximate shape and length I desired (as you can see, a tad too long, but that's better than too short). I turned the fabric under on the inside and sewed to create an inch long loop. Then I slid the panels I'd cut and sewn onto the rod and popped it back into place. Voila!


So it's a terrible picture (below), but here's the final product. In between sewing the curtains and touching up paint, I made a batch of caramel brownies. The bag of caramels contained popsicle sticks to make candy apples, so I took the popsicle sticks, cut some felt into heads and glued them to the sticks, slapped on some googly eyes (love those things!), and twisted pipe cleaners into arms and legs (gluing to make them stay put on the stick). So I had puppets for the puppet theater. These took me about 30 seconds each to make, and surely would take only twice as long to destroy, but they were more presentation than anything else. On that middle chalkboard slat (just below the stick puppets), I wrote "___ and ___ 's Playhouse" in chalk (of course), cut off those pesky white threads hanging on the curtains, and we were on our way, brownies and puppet theater in tow. Don't you think that on that crazy crafting planet where Martha Stewart is president, I would be McGyver? I mean, come on, taking the unused sticks from the caramels and combining them into my plan to make little puppet people?? So I rode to Christmas dinner with a satisfied, accomplished glow. And the kids loved the theater. And after two minutes, one said "What happened to your puppet's mouth? It's not there anymore!" Yes, my stick people were not going to last.

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR! More to come in 2010!