Sisterhood of the Traveling Books

My sincere apologies to author Ann Brashares for paraphrasing the title of her best selling book but I needed a catchy title for this effort. I'll be using it until I hear otherwise from her attorney.

Occasionally I have a book that needs to find a new reader and a new (but temporary) home.

But first, let's talk about your reading space, that location where you curl up and get comfortable for a long reading session. Mostly I read in bed in the evening. If I'm going to take time out from my day to read I mosey over under the locust tree where I have a chair hidden under the leafy bower.



I have forbad The Farmer from whacking off the low hanging branches. It makes mowing the grass underneath an interesting problem, but I manage. The locust tree has lacy leaf formations and that means the light is not blocked, but filtered. It's just perfect for reading. There's a road behind this scene but it has no outlet - one way in, one way out. Not much traffic to break my concentration.

Where do you read? Do you have a special spot?

On to the Sisterhood of the Traveling Book. I've just finished a wonderful book that one of the neighbors brought to our Tuesday night Mah Jongg gathering. I don't talk about that group much because it would need to look up the spelling each and every time. Anyway, she brought two books and laid them on the buffet, inviting whoever was interested to take them to read and pass along.

I grabbed this one, "Three Cups of Tea" by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin. This book gets a big thumbs up from me. Have you read it? I can't imagine how this one missed my radar for so long.



It's about a mountain climber who arrived in Pakistan to climb K2. He almost died in the process and while recuperating in a very poor and remote village he had an awakening which set him on a course and gave his life purpose. This book is a real education in the realities of living in such a beautiful but remote spot and it informs the reader about the cultures. It's simply fascinating and uplifting. You're going to want to help Greg with his vision by the time you've finished reading.

As per my neighbors instructions I'm going to be passing this book along to one of my readers. Please leave me a comment. I'll be drawing a name at our Monday Morning Staff Meeting.

My only requirement is that after you've read the book, pass it along to someone else. Thanks for participating.

Put Some Clothes on that Pillow

Thanks to everyone who shared their stories and preferences concerning their pillows. It's interesting to learn what you prefer. I've heard of those memory foam pillows and I'm thinking it's something The Farmer would love. Maybe for Christmas I'll get him one.

Yesterday I mentioned that I'd show you how to make your own pillowcases. Why in the world would you want to make your own pillowcase? I've noticed that the quilt shops that I frequent all have patterns and kits for making colorful cases. They're just so different than anything you might find in the domestics department of your local big box store. I love the idea of having something colorful and unusual to rest my head upon and just think about the dreams that those kinds of cases will jumpstart.

I also mentioned that I'd have an opportunity for you to help others. My friends over at Craft Hope are just coming off their biggest project ever. Project 8 was providing towels for the Gulf coast oil clean up. Their hope was to collect 15,000 towels. They collected 70,000 towels!!! These women can make things happen..... and so can you.

For Project 9 they are working with ConKerr Cancer Center to provide colorful pillowcase for terminally ill children in hospitals across the U.S.

READ ALL THE DETAILS HERE

The pattern provided by ConKerr Cancer Center is provided HERE

OK, let's get started with sewing our pillowcase. We're going to start with our two pieces of fabric.

Main fabric - 26 1/2 x 40 1/2 inches
Border fabric - 10 1/2 x 40 1/2 inches

I don't have a lot of children's fabric in my stash but I did find this colorful animal print. Perfect..... lions and tigers and otters, oh my!!!



For my border print I chose a pink and white gingham.



The first step is to fold the border fabric in half lengthwise, with the wrong sides together. Press the fabric.



We're going to want to finish the seams so that the edges don't fray. A serger machine creates this edge.



See how the machine has zig-zagged thread over the edge to encase it, all while sewing the straight seam? Well, I don't have a serger and neither do many hobby sewers so I'm going to show you how to actually encase the edge, making a French seam. It's really not hard once you've seen it done.



Pin the long edges of the two fabrics together with the border attached to the wrong side of the main fabric. It sounds wierd because that means your seam would be on the outside of the pillowcase. But that will change in a minute.



Sew along the long edge, using a 1/4 inch seam. I'm going to switch to a sample swatch because it will be easier to see what I'm doing. That animal print is a little busy.

Right sides of fabric facing out.



Sew the 1/4 inch seam.


Open the seam out and press flat.


Fold over with raw edges inside and press flat.



Encase the raw edge by sewing a 5/8 inch seam along the edge.



This is a french seam seen from the inside.



I like to take it a step further and do a line of stitching that makes that piece lie flat. Just stitch right along the edge on the wrong side. Here's what it looks like after stitching viewed from the wrong side.



And from the right side.



At this point everything is encased, flat and looking all professional.

You can do this on all edges of the pillowcase including the border, the long edge and the short edge. Do them in this order.



After sewing the long edge you'll be basically left with an open ended tube so when you go to sew the encased seam down flat you're going to need to do a little "scrunching" to get it through the machine without catching fabric. Just go slow.

Here's the finished pillowcase which I will be donating to the Craft Hope Project.



If you don't want to use the method of creating a French seam, just sew in the order given and finish the edges with pinking shears.

Another idea is to use a decorative stitch on the area where the main fabric and border meet. I would have done that EXCEPT my modern electronic machine with the fancy stitches has decided to have a nervous breakdown. Yeah, and she's only a year old.

Many thanks to my friend made of cast iron, Beverly, who faithfully performed her straightforward and straight-stitching duties flawlessly. Gotta love a vintage machine!

Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep

Today we're going to talk about an important element of the sleep process. But first, here's what greeted me this morning when I was cooking pancakes for The Farmer.



Isn't that a happy, clever packaging idea? That's the pouring lid on a bottle of Hungry Jack pancake syrup. It certainly made me smile.

Ok, here's the thing. I'm one of those crazy people that you see in the airport, dragging their pillow all over the planet. YES! I take my pillow with me.

I can't remember ever having a preference concerning pillows when I was younger but about 10 years ago (maybe longer) I met a pillow that converted me and made a zealot. It's my crunchy pillow, filled with buckwheat hulls.

When I first saw them advertised in the store I thought it was a totally crazy idea. Why in the world would I want a pillow that sounded like it was filled with corn flakes? Why, indeed. I didn't buy one, but my mother gave me one and I was instantly hooked.

The Farmer sleeps on a super soft smushy pillow that resembles the Staypuff marshmallow man. That's not for me.

The last time I was traveling alone, I stopped at a Hampton Inn and was surprised at the pillow arrangement on the bed. It was a new hotel and was decorated in the manner of a boutique hotel. The bed was so inviting and the pillows were piled high. There were two cardboard signs, folded and placed on the bed, announcing the fact that the pillows on the left were firm and on the right were soft. What a great idea but still, I had my own pillow tucked in my suitcase.

Somehow, in addition to the one large buckwheat pillow I've acquired two small ones. They are my own personal Great Wall of Buckwheat. I arrange them in a semi-circle and plop my head right in the middle. It lifts my head up off the bed and supports it perfectly, molding itself around my head. Like I said, I'm addicted to this pillow.

So when you see me in the airport, clutching my crunchy pillow, just say HI!

How about you? What is your preference? Soft, firm or crunchy?

Come back tomorrow and I'll show you how to make your own designer pillowcase. If you're a sewer there will be a chance for you to participate in a wonderful opportunity to help others.

Tuesday's Monday Morning Staff Meeting

Yes, I know. Everyone was here bright and early yesterday morning with a legal pad and number 2 pencil, eagerly awaiting the Monday Morning Staff Meeting. The truth is, I overslept, I didn't bake, I was totally unprepared and my DOG ATE MY HOMEWORK!!

You are the best readers in the world for returning today, all chipper and prepared with those pads and pencils. I don't know that there's any reason to take notes this morning but we'll see what happens.

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Before we get to the food, I want to thank everyone who participated in the latest Postcard Project. It was fun to send out cards to all who signed up. If you didn't get your card, notify me at once and I'll rectify that.

A huge thanks to everyone who sent me a card in return. That wasn't part of the project but I truly appreciated the armchair travel it provided me.

I'm feeling pretty stuck this summer. I've talked about this before, but it bears repeating that sometimes in life you feel literally and figuratively stuck. The Farmer and I aren't quite old enough for retirement but old enough to feel that parade (as far as jobs and careers go) have passed us by. We're both currently unemloyed and though we're not exactly suffering, we're having to watch our buffalo nickels. Remember those?



Your wonderful postcards have allowed us to take a journey in our imaginations, to places we might never see in real life. My gracious readers have taken us to California (several locations), rural Canada, Cape Cod, Germany and Russia, just to name a few. And no, I don't have any Russian readers to my knowledge. One of my readers has traveled to Siberia and sent me one of the postcards from that trip. WOO HOO. In the spirit of BREW FOR BREAKFAST, I'm going to offer everyone some Russian vodka. If you're not into taking an ice cold shot for breakfast, I'll offer it disguised as a Bloody Mary.

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And now, on to the most important part of the meeting.

THE FOOD

You will notice in that pile of postcards there's one from my friend Vee, in Maine.

Recently, her and her beloved treated themselves to a Maine Shore Dinner.



We've never been to Maine and rarely to the eastern shore. The Farmer and I, according to Mapquest, are 1,269.78 miles from the nearest Maine Shore Dinner.

But, this is the internet, and we melt the miles away and create our own reality. And so, this morning I'm going to invent something totally new and awesome.....

The Maine Shore Breakfast



The only problem with this plan is that I am so removed from anything "seafood" that I'm not quite sure about what I'm serving. The Bloody Mary's for sure. But some of these other items need to be identified. Be sure to jump in if you know.



First of all, this is A LOT of food. I've seen immense steak dinners but this is huge and it's work. I've only eaten one whole lobster in my lifetime and that lobster made me work for my dinner! In addition, we are so far removed from the source of these goodies that we'd need to mortgage the house to be able to afford something like this. If lobster is even on the menu (rarely), it's listed as "Market Price" and you know what that means. $$$$$$

So, here's the rundown. Help me out.

1. The Lobster (that was easy)
2. Clams (????? see how dumb I am related to seafood)
3. Roll (Do you put some of the lobster meat into the small roll, or just eat the roll separately?)
4. Coffee?? (I'll take iced tea. I'm sure they don't serve sweet tea in Maine)
5. Drawn butter (nectar of the Gods)
6. Chips
7. Lettuce with someone on top.
8. Unidentified liquid (water? At this point I'm going to mention that I hate drinking out of plastic cups. You too?)
9. Unidentified liquid in a very small cup. More drawn butter?
10. Moist towlette. HA HA HA HA HA HA HA. Quite small for dealing with a whole sloppy lobster. Hey, where's the bib and the full-size washcloth and towel. That's what I need!
11. IT'S ALL ABOUT THE PIE!!! Maine Blueberry Pie, I'm guessing. Who could possible have room for the pie after eating all that food?

ME!

Are you full yet? I hope you've enjoyed this very unusual breakfast.

In reality, it's been many a moon since I've had lobster and a lobster roll? It sounds wonderful but I've never had one and don't know how it's made. Feel free to enlighten me!

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OK, I'm totally stuffed. Now we need to walk it off. Let's go with this guy. About halfway through you're going to see him walk under the Cloud Gate in Chicago. It's the silver "bean", now the most photographed and recognized sculptures in the world!



And here's how they made the video.




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Suggested reading - "The Road to Quoz" by William Least Heat-Moon. A great book for all you armchair travelers.

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That's all for this morning because I'm still stuffed, even after walking across the United States. I can't even think straight with all that food my stomach. How about you?

The Farmer Builds an Ark

No blogging yesterday. We were busy building an ark.

I've said many times that I'll take our midwest thunderstorms and tornados over an earthquake any day. I stick by my guns. The recent 4.something earthquake with an epicenter about 9 miles from here creeped me out and made me feel very unsafe. An earthquake can effect everyone in a hundred mile radius. A tornado usually cuts a path a few thousand yards wide and a mile or two long.

It's just my preference but I do understand that it's what you grow up with I guess.

Anyway, we get some tremendous thunderstorms around here, some serious gullywashers. But thunderstorms, although they can be dangerous, are mostly annoying.

Take Friday night for example.

This was the scene out our front door, looking southwest.



Yeah, that dark but not particularly frightening. Now, if the sky had a green tinge, that would be a whole 'nother ballgame.

This is looking southeast towards one of the neighbors houses at about 6 p.m.



What followed was unprecented in my memory. Usually a thunderstorm rolls in, flexes it muscles, makes a lot of noise, drops a lot of rain and moves on to bully the counties to the east. On Friday night it was a veritable thunderstorm disco party. Wave after wave of thunderstorms moved in, one right behind the other.

There was no sleep to be had and I'm feeling the effects today. The electricity went out many, many times. Our smoke detectors are hard wired and each time the power goes out they make a single high-pitched beep. Thankfully we installed a natural gas powered automatic generator that cuts on 10 seconds after the power goes out. Believe me, you don't want to be in northern Illinois in the wintertime and have the power fail. The temperature in the house plummets like a rock.

First thing Saturday morning the Farmer got his tools together and started building an ark. We got 7 INCHES of rain overnight. Farm fields and roads are flooded. In one spot the water was gushing off the field and over the highway, creating a small waterfall on the other side.

Water is a powerful force and I have learned that water will always have it's way regardless of what the Army Corps of Engineers might think.

Hold on, the Farmer is yelling something from the garage.

"I need you to hold the end of this ruler. Hey - what's a cubit?"

Heck if I know.

OK, I gotta run. I'm being called to do some really imporant Biblical research.

"I'll be there in a minute, honey. I'm grabbing my Bible."

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Research tells me that a cubit is a unit of measurement equal to about 18 inches.

I'm Going Nowhere - Fast

If you've been reading for awhile, you know how much the Farmer and I love to travel. I really believe that if it were possible we'd travel alot, only touching down at home base to regroup, refuel and do laundry. Oh heck, maybe we wouldn't even come home to do laundry because they do sell clothing anywhere you go.

Lately I've been making myself crazy and sad by reading bloggers who are traveling everywhere! There seems to be a mass migration. There are several who have been to Paris..... Paris, France, NOTt Paris, Illinois; Paris, Indiana; Paris, Arkansas; Paris, Maine..... well, you get the idea. Another blogger just got back from a Meditteranean cruise and yet another cruised to Alaska.

Kasey at Lola's B's is in Kauai for three weeks. She's one of the Paris travelers. What would I need to do to get three weeks in Kauai?? Sell the firstborn? It would probably involve either the Farmer or I finding a job, which at our age in this economy is unlikely.

So as not to make myself crazy I'm going to have to forego reading those "ladies going to Paris" blogs for awhile. Honestly, I have no burning desire to go to Paris ......... hmmmm, but Yelapa, Mexico is another story.

The Farmer and I have been very, very lucky to have been able to travel to some exotic locales. Yelapa is one spot we promised to return to. It seems to be our M.O. - find a place with no roads, which is only accessible by boat or small aircraft. Yelapa is a one hour boat ride from Puerto Vallarta and there are no roads! We loved it's quaint and calm atmosphere. They first got electricity about 9 years ago.

Does it sound basic and primitive? It can be but just around the cove is one of the most exclusive spa hotels in all of Mexico, so they cover all the bases.

Here's Yelapa's "Bosca" lady. Bosca is Polish for boss-lady. This woman met the boat at the dock and started ordering everyone around.



Making sure everyone knows she the boss.



Rental units on the hillsides.



No roads, just cobblestone streets. No vehicles except for one four-wheeler. The is the major form of transportation used to move construction supplies (sand) from the beach area.



One hundred yards up behind the village is this waterfall.



The beach.



The pie ladies come to sell their pies on the beach.



The Farmer is eating pie and sharing a beer with me. Oh, this is one of the four beers I've had in my life.



So, I'll be satisfied with dreaming about a return to Yelapa. Don't tell anyone, OK? We don't want them to become overcrowded and build roads and such.

Brew for Breakfast

Yes, dear readers, I can honestly say I've had lots of different experiences in my life but yesterday I had an altogther new one. That's hard to do when you're as old as I am. Mostly, you've been round the track a time or two in the experience game.

My sister and I were going to meet up with my mom for a birthday lunch celebration but first she had to undergo some testing. While she was having her tests done my sister and I did some shopping. First we went to a quilt shop that was housed in a big, old Italianate farmhouse on the edge of town. This is always a dangerous activity for me because I like fabric better than diamonds. The problem is, I'm already drowning in fabric.

Remember this?



And I said to you:

"If you EVER hear me say I'm going out to buy fabric, you have my permission to cut a switch and invite me to join you behind the tool shed where you can beat the living sense back into me."

Thankfully you don't have to cut a switch. I'm safe because I left the quilt shop without any fabric or patterns!

From the quilt shop we headed over to a fabulous gift shop. It's very, very large and filled with literally millions of dollars of inventory including beautiful and unusual handbags, jewelry, gourmet food items and more! What was it I just said about liking fabric better than diamonds? Or funky handbags?

The owner employs lots of people and he was standing behind one of the counters as we entered the store. He's very gregarious and acknowledged us heartily as we entered. Let's just say he left no doubt that you'd been GREETED.

My sister and I walked around, amazed at some of the finer costume jewelry, including Judith Jack's stunning collection of marcasite. The store is a labyrinth of aisles and soon we found ourselves in the Brighton area. The owner walks through on his way to the back of the store.

"Hi ladies. Would you like a nice cold beer?" he asks.

HUH????? I can honestly say I've never heard a shop owner asking a customer if they'd like a beer. Perhaps this happens in a bait shop or a hunting/fishing establishment but not in an upscale gift shop.

"They're nice and cold and when you open it the neck of the bottle fills with beautiful ice crystals.'

My sister wisely declines the offer and his attention turns to me.

"So that's a yes?"

For some totally inexplicable reason I say yes. Perhaps it was because I was having one of those ready-to-self-immolate hot flashes and maybe I thought he meant root beer.

You must understand how crazy this is, number one because it's only 11:30 a.m. and secondly I DON'T DRINK BEER. I can count on one hand the number of beers I've had in my life. This shop owner seems to be the kind of guy that could sell ice to an Eskimo.

My sister and I round the next corner of showcases and there he is, like he promised, holding out an ice cold beer. Now I'm stuck.

At least it's not something low brow like Pabst (do they still brew that?). It's a Sam Adams Summer Ale, promising to be light and refreshing. I take a sip.....yep, it's beer. Since I'm not a connoisseur all beer tastes alike to me.

At this point I am very aware of the visual image I present to other customers. I don't see ONE other customer sipping on a beer! Has he singled me out because I look white trash enough to be drinking in a nice gift shop? More customers arrive. These people tell the owner they're staying at the nearby resort hotel. Great. They approach and their eyes hone in on the brewski. Maybe they're wishing they had one. Probably not.

I wind my way to the back of the store where I spot an older sales clerk. She sees the anguish on my face.

"He gave me a beer," I state with a tinge of pleading in my voice. "He gave me a beer and I don't know what to do with it. I've got to leave to pick my mother up and I'm driving."

"I know honey," she says. "It's OK. The coffee maker is broken and he's offering customers beer instead."

HUH???

At least the man provided me with a new experience and a funny story to tell. I had a beer for breakfast. Actually it would be more accurate to say that I had half a beer for breakfast.

The Mother

I'll be leaving here in about an hour, driving west to celebrate The Mother's birthday. She's not to be confused with the Other Mother who lives under my roof.

The Mother turned 82 today and she's struggling with some of the effects of age. I tell my mom again and again that if you are going to live to a ripe old age, there's a price to pay. Of course, in life there's a price to be paid for everything.

Here she is, a very young mom, shortly after the end of World War II.



Her and my dad were taking me down to Florida to show me off to my dad's family. This is actually the first of many, many family vacations spent with relatives. Back in the day there was no money for hotels, spas trips to Mexico. Staying with family was the norm.

My mom was so talented and creative when we were growing up. All the teachers wanted us in their classroom because they knew it meant really, really great teacher gifts. She learned to sew like a pro, saving tons of money by constructing beautiful clothing for us.

One time she said to me, "Oh, you're so talented. Look at the beautiful things you've sewn." She said this with an air of envy, as if she had no idea where that skill might have come from.

I looked at her, incredulous.

"Mom, do you not remember the beautiful things you made, including wool dress coats with velvet collars? You know, Rothschild-type coats."

But the truth is that sometimes she does not remember. In a way that is sad but it's also reality and one thing I learned in therapy is that the more you rail against and deny reality, the more miserable you will be.

The Moody Blues have a line in one of their songs:

BREATHE DEEP THE GATHERING GLOOM

What that means to me is to embrace what is coming. Make friends with it. Do what you can to make the impact of negative things a soft landing instead of a slap in the face. The sooner you come to terms with your reality, the sooner you will adjust and get on with life.

One day I took my mother to lunch. She had really been struggling with some recent events that had left her off-kilter. I said, "Mom, there's good news and there's bad news. The good news is we're living longer. The bad news is, we're living longer."

She laughed and got my point.

Today we'll celebrate over lunch at her favorite place for hamburgers, Red Robin. We'll talk and laugh, remember old times and plan for the future.

Happy Birthday Mom!!

The Two Marks and the Field of Dreams

About a month ago the Farmer and I attended a birthday party for one of our neighbors. It was held at a local restaurant (fabulous) and some people who worked for his company were invited, people we'd never met before.

Two of these guests were "the Two Marks", same name, same fun spirit, from the same small town in Iowa. It's a very small town.

These guys were simply very interesting and very fun. We got to talking about living in a small town in the rural American midwest and guess what? They informed us that the Field of Dreams is for sale!



FIELD OF DREAMS FOR SALE

Did you know that? I didn't.

It's a pretty hefty price tag - $5.4 million, which includes the 2 bedroom farmhouse, barn (mid-1800's), machine shed, corn crib, souvenir stand, store and of course, the ballfield.

You know what they say, build it and they will come. Or, buy it and they will come.

The owners, Don and Becky Lansing, host about 65,000 visitors per year. But now they're looking to retire.

It all sounds pretty enticing except I cannot imagine having 65,000 people drive up my driveway every year. YIKES. No way. I'd probably feel obligated to bake chocolate chip cookies for all of them.

Check out the interactive aerial map. That parking lot doesn't look like it can hold very many cars.

FIELD OF DREAMS INTERACTIVE AERIAL MAP

I'm pretty sure that people aren't visiting in the wintertime, so if we do the math and figure the busy season from April to October -

65,000 visitors divided by 7 months = 9,285 per month divided by 30 days per month = 309 per day.

(I know, I know, I'm always doing the math)

That's a lot of people driving up my driveway.

I think I'll take a pass.

There is something to be said for that "build it and they will come" attitude though. Build it and they will come, dream it and make it happen, create it and they will buy. Yeah, I can be on board with that.

For your information, Agritourism is on the rise. It includes anything from pumpkin farms where you can spend the day, to farms where you can stay and work. Are there any Agritourist sites near you?

Monday Morning Staff Meeting

Good morning everyone and welcome to the weekly staff meeting. if you're new here At Home you'll find that this meeting is where we get together and share what's going on in our lives, meet new blog friends, find out about cool new stuff, and EAT.

Yes, we'll get to the good stuff right away. This morning we're going to be sharing some delectables from Potbelly's. Do you have one near you? It's a sandwich shop that features live musicians during the busy time of the day. I love their sandwiches but I've never tried their cookies or shakes, at least making a lame effort to avoid the dessert stuff.

Well, my friend Amy (the GM of a very successful local restaurant) mentioned Potbelly's Sheila Bar. I confessed that I'd never heard of it, to which she said, "Seriously? Seriously!! It's absoluting addicting." Her restaurant serves a really wonderful carrot cake so she ought to know sugary goodness when she meets it.

This meant of course that I had to pop right over to the nearest location to check it out.



I bought some to share at our meeting this morning but in the interest of not dropping over from heart attacks I'll ask that each person only take a small piece. Why? When you check out the back label the first ingredient listed is "butter". You know what that means. Butter is the primary ingredient, by weight surpassing anything else. YIKES!!



If you take a bite I'll bet the butter thing doesn't deter you from wanting another.

Unlike other cookie bars that have a definite "bite" to them, these bars are very soft, I'd say even underbaked which adds to it's appeal. For me, it's like eating cookie dough. Gosh, there you go..... one of my all time weaknesses. You simply cannot trust me near a bowl of cookie dough.



Try it and let me know what you think.

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Last Friday my sister and I met up at the Midwest Fiber and Folk Art Fair. It was a wonderful collection of fiber enthusiasts, weavers, spinners, knitters, crocheters, tatters, shepherds and shepherdesses, artisans, craftspeople and related businesses. It was tactile heaven. Anyone who works with yarn simply cannot resist touching those lucious skeins....especially the cashmeres.

There was inspiration galore and I was taking notes. Have you ever thought about how the creative process works? It starts with an idea, sometimes from inspiration and sometimes out of thin air.

One of my favorites challenges to myself is to make something using only what I have on hand, upcycling or reusing items to make something new. When I make my aprons from men's dress shirts I'm left with pieces of fabric. It simply kills me to throw fabric away and so I develop other items to use up those bits. Only the smallest bits of fabric are discarded. All buttons are cut off before decommissioning any items of clothing. This is a lifelong habit that was taught to me by my grandmother and as a result I have literally thousands of buttons.

One of the most wonderful and inventive people we met at the fiber fair was Kris, a young wife and mother who is a great upcycler. What's an upcycler, you ask? It's someone who takes an item that has fulfilled it's original use and creates something equally useful out of it.

Kris scours garage sales and resale shops for wool sweaters, which she resells to crafters and others who create wonderful things from them. Kris also makes upcycled wool diaper covers, dryer balls and other cool things. My sister bought one of the dryer balls. All the bits and scraps of leftover wool are combined to make the ball, which is covered in a colorful wool shell. No plastic, no fumes, nothing but natural fibers.

RESWEATER

If you visit Kris's blog and poke around, you'll find plenty of tutorials in which she shows you exactly how to make some of these wonderful items. She's the Pied Piper of wool sweaters!

WOOL SWEATER TISSUE COVER HOLDER TUTORIAL

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Have you seen the commercial for the Dyson fan? I think he calls it the Dyson Air Multiplier. The Farmer and I are both fascinated by that commercial and would actually like to see one in use. That James Dyson is a very smart inventor and his products are pretty amazing, albeit expensive. The "Air Multiplier" runs $300, so we'll be sticking with our large, noisy box fan.

Imagine my surprise when my sister and I used the bathroom at the Fiber Fair to discover a related Dyson invention, called the Airblade. It's a hand dryer but unlike anything you've ever used.

DYSON'S AIRBLADE

Follow the link and take a look at how it's configured. You dip your hand down in the space, the air starts moving and you slowly pull your hand up. Voila. Your hands are dry.

I confess that my sister and I stayed in that bathroom playing with the hand dryer until a line started forming behind us.

Have you ever seen one of these?

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Thanks to everyone who participated in the Six Word Memoir. It's an interesting challenge to clearly convey an idea in six words.

Thanks also to Alyssa from Smith magazine, who left a comment on that post, inviting everyone over to Smith to publish a memoir there.

SMITH MAGAZINE

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I've been blogging for quite a few years - five or six I think. On some level I'm aware of the incredible expanse of the blogosphere but in order that my mind doesn't fry out, I mentally shrink the blogosphere down to a manageable level - my little bloggy community. This includes my two blogs, those on my blogroll and the few that I allow myself each week in blog hopping sessions.

Recently I landed on something called The Daring Kitchen. It's a food blogger, bakers/cooks, who come together once a month to challenge themselves in the kitchen.

THE DARING KITCHEN

They have a blogroll of bloggers who particpate in these challenges.

The

blogroll

is

staggering.

STAGGERING.

DARING BAKERS STAGGERING BLOGROLL

That's only the list of BAKERS!!!

DARING COOKS STAGGERING BLOGROLL

I don't DARE click on any of those links. I'll be here till 4 a.m.

These huge lists of blogs make me very nervous for some reason. I feel very small I guess. It's like looking up into the dark night sky, realizing that I'm just an insignificant dot in the vast universe.

The blogosphere is a universe unto itself I suppose.

I still prefer my own little bloggy community.

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Thanks to all my readers who participated in the Postcard Project. I'm getting e-mails that they are arriving. Those of you overseas will be waiting a little longer, but they will arrive!

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Thanks for attending the meeting. I hope you're not in sugar shock from the Sheila Bar and I hope you won't be spending your day clicking around those blogrolls.

I'm not turning the meeting over to you.

Six Word Memoir

Just when I'm bemoaning the fact that everyone seems to be communicating in 29 words or less, and confidently declaring that nothing can adequately be transmitted in so few words, I come across a project called the Six Word Memoir.

SMITH MAGAZINE

They are based on certain subject matter. For example you could write a memoir summing up your life. Sounds easy, but it's harder than it appears.

One of the subjects was "cheating death". This is a terrifically descriptive Six Word Memoir that an 80-year old wrote:

House on fire.
Pool below.
Jumped.

Would you like to try? Pick a subject matter. Write a memoir. Leave it in my comments section. Here are the subjects:

My life.
Cheating death.
Worst mistake.
Regret.

I'll start.

My life -

High IQ.
Low amibition.
Lifetime underachiever.

Cheating death.

Snowmobile passenger.
Going 95.
Screaming STOP.

Worst mistake.

Didn't seek help.
Crashed and burned.

Regret

Life's first half.
Wasted in fear.


Your turn......