Smokey the Magnificent

1. It’s MOD PODGE, people! Not Modge Podge! I will slay your ancestors!
2. That last episode of Doctor Who was freaking awesome. I cried. Up until that point I was wavering on the season as a whole, but blimey. Epic, yet without sacrificing intimacy. And a corking line. And a fez.
3. I do not like the term “the menopause”. I know it’s technically accurate - well, I don’t, actually, but I assume it is, otherwise why would vast hordes of otherwise unpretentious people emit such a poncy phrase? - but anyway, it gives me the screaming heebies. Enough with ominous articles. I also dislike “an herb garden”, for similar though not identical reasons.
4. I decided on Sunday that my challenge for this week will be to complete one project per day. So today I made a grey skirt - actually I started it in a frenzy late last night, and it even hung overnight to allow the hem to droop correctly. Aren’t I coming along? Anyway, I finished it today and felt v smug, but then realised that all my other projects will take more than a day to complete. I started painting cardboard letters copper in order to stick them on the pig’s steampunked-up whiteboard, my (possibly) next project, but then realised there was no way I could actually paint it and make the fabric baskets all in one day, and then I thought about how many press-studs and little pearls needed to be hand-sewn onto my arm warmers, and how long it would take to learn how to do double-welted pockets in order to make my utility skirt, and then I started wondering if I could count cleaning out the pantry as a project, and then gave up the idea when I realised it just wasn’t gonna happen, and now I’m not sure what my challenge for the week is, but it bothers me unduly that I don’t have one.
5. My sister-in-law is expecting another baby. I will have to knit it something, maybe.
6. Gibbous-inspired clothes just never look as good as the real Gibbous ones. I can’t put my finger on exactly why, but they look junkier. It might just be the lack of incredibly arty photography, but I don’t think so. The skirts have too much fabric and not enough deliberateness of structure, mebbe. Anyway, I’m tempted to try it. But the only event on the horizon which justifies such an outlay of time and vintage lace is practically my only sister’s wedding in November, and I’m not sure if she’d appreciate me turning up looking like a post-Magimix Helena Bonham Carter. Also, I’d have to look at the photos in twenty years’ time, and even now I suspect I would snicker. And that is never a good sign.
7. Flowers for Algernon is not a good book to read if you are even mildly moop. It will make you lunge for a knife.
8. Is not this practically the awesomest thing ever? I want to make one, maybe for Disneyland. Then when we wanted to ride the Grizzly River Run I could just pop it on, and we could oose into DCA and ride it and then go back and romp at the HoJo’s water park. Except I don’t know where I’d be able to buy a towel that wasn’t made in a sweatshop, and one would not like to make it with a used towel. So it might not be doable. Still, I spent a good half-hour today pondering it. This is why I never get anything done.
9. I was playing poker on Sunday with a large, smallish group of semi-manly men, and asked them all “Would you rather have your own unicorn or a hundred sheep?” And they all instantly said “UNICORN!”, and it was awesome.
10. Would you accept a million dollars from a genie on the condition that if you ever said the word “migratory”, you would die instantly?

A Sad Thought: I don’t know how to tie a noose knot. It distracted me in that awful scene in Once Were Warriors, where I should have been bawling and clutching my hanky, and I was a bit, but I was also secretly a little impressed at the girl for knowing how to do it as a mere stripling of a lass. If I ever wanted to off myself, I’d have to Google it.

A Happy Thought: I just discovered Sock Dreams, an awesome site, and because I very badly need some socks, all of mine being either holey or Helpdesk Man’s, I bought five pairs as a birthday present to myself from the piggie. Upon being told of her generosity the piggie stared at her own feet in great perplexity for some minutes and then dismissed the matter. Four of the pairs are stripy. And as I very rarely make impulse purchases online, I feel giddy and daring. They’re even anti-sweatshop.

A Sad Thought: “How to Make a Noose” brings up 276,000 Google results.

A Happy Thought: My worthy mother has given practically my only small sister permish to come along for our trip to Disneyland next year. And my other practically only sister who lives in London is meeting us there for a week as well. If I do not have them both married off before we exit the Haunted Mansion, it will not be my fault.

A Sad Thought: I am worried that I might come over all phobic at Disneyland. I do not like animatronics, and while I hope this is because I’ve only ever met creepy cheesy fake ones like at Rainbow’s End, it might not be. And Pirates of the Caribbean is in the dark and on the water, like the log flume at Rainbow’s End which totally gives me the screaming feebles, because there are OBVIOUSLY killer whales slinking beneath the surface, and it has animatronic pirates and skeletons, one of which I happen to know is real. It’s an E-ticket ride. I can’t not go on it. It’s supposed to be awesome. And it’s 15 minutes long. And I do not want to spend that quarter-hour with the stench of abject terror oozing from my armpits, head burrowed into Helpdesk Man’s pancreas, frantically singing “You Are My Sunshine” and batting wildly at the air above my tender exposed neck. Also, Indiana Jones has an animatronic python that looms at you. And we won’t even talk about the Storybookland Canal Boats.

A Happy Thought: “How to Save a Life” by The Fray is an awesomer song than I initially thought. It has a poignant backstory and surprisingly good lyrics, and by “surprisingly” I mean that I am out of touch with Modern Music and generally assume anything I hear on the radio to be shallow and soulless, a thoroughly obnoxious tendency which I ought to combat, although I did hear Jason Mraz’ “I’m Yours” on two separate occasions in the fabric store and liked it and considered asking the lady what it was, but the second time I realised it was on the radio, not a CD, so the nice radio man told me (not personally, acourse) what it was and it turned out it had been playing in every store every four minutes for the last several months, but I don’t get out much, but at least it proved I liked the song on its own merits and not because it was drilled into my head by insane repetition; and also, incidentally, for weeks this was the only song that would put the snortlepig to sleep.

A Sad Thought: This couch is covered in smeg.

A Happy Thought: I bought two rolls of brown paper today. I ran out of the last lot and its replacement must have fallen out of the pram when I was bringing it home, so I have been without a roll of consoling brown paper for months now and it has been preying on my calm. But now I have two, so I can make the twofeenth and final version of my underbust corset pattern on it, and it will go with my new skirt, and also the arm warmers I plan to start making tomorrow.

A Sad Thought: I was conned into giving a cake decorating demonstration on Thursday to a bunch of Young Mothers, and I have no idea what to show them and will be revealed as a sham and ceremonially stripped of my fondant layer.

A Happy Thought: Singing group now. Bye.

Sometimes, the sheer volume of the things I plan to make and sew overwhelms my brain like a load of laundry in a wardrobe, and makes my eyes twitch. This is a Bad Thing. Not a totally bad thing, as it allows me to think of myself as a crafty person brimming with ideas; but on the occasions I break through this happy bubble and realise I haven’t done anything more creative for a month than sweeping around a rectangle on the floor and pretending it was a rug, it makes me feel very small inside, and then I have to go eat carbs.

At the moment, my list of unfinished creative enterprises runs as follows (not in bullet-point form, as a) the length would be depressing and b) bullet points are too orderly to represent the reality of the situation): a small cushion made out of scraps from my wedding dress, a pink and green Irish chain quilt for the pig, another one in flannel for the pig in winter, both justifiably put on hold as she doesn’t have a bed of her own right now anyway; half a winter wardrobe of dove-grey, pink, beige and blue clothes for the pig, for which I bought fabrics, only it turns out she has plenty of clothes; the pig’s art station, a blackboard/whiteboard easel thing from the inlaws which I wish to make steampunky and awesome, because it doesn’t match the living room; a knee-length swooshy dress made with this awesomely manly tweed from the thrift store, whose very essence I wish to subvert by lining it with a dusky rose print and adding lace and doing cap sleeves and stuff; a grey more-than-a-circle skirt; a lace pettiskirt; lacy pantalettes, just below knee length; a pair of knitted stockings with little Xes all up the front, even though I suspect this will not look as good on me as on the Gibbous model; a pair of knitted stockings with horizontal blue and tannish stripes, sort of Alice in Wonderlandy, even though ditto; a pair of knitted lacy cream arm warmers that I’ve been knitting since the dawn of time; three unspecified baby gifts for recently ex-foetal pigs; typographical miniature cushions with ampersands and things on them for Helpdesk Man’s office, not that he’s holding his breath; a brown duster like Helpdesk Man’s current black one; a floor-length voluminous winter coat for me in smoky blue; a shorter one from the same pattern in some unexpected colour, so as to make me known in the boroughs as the Girl With the [undetermined but totally groovy] Colour Coat, which is on hold indefinitely as I can’t think of the right colour; a pair of natty lace wristlets, possibly done with very thin string in crochet, if I learn how; another pair of arm warmers with the leftovers from my pinstriped skirt, with dozens of little shroomy Victorian buttons down the side; a Mod Cloth-inspired grey dress with an asymmetrical cowly collar that makes me look like a scifi heroine; a demure grey pinny with tucks on the bodice, cunningly concealing invisible zips for breastfeeding access; a truly awesome autumn leaf quilt for the master bedroom, which is so ambitious I wisely refrained from buying the fabric and committing myself, but it still pesks my mind; a more doable but still not done bronze and blue bedspread cover, because Helpdesk Man doesn’t like the Laura Ashley one I got on sale three years ago, and it has ink on it; a cool Star Trek quilt I have vague and noble intentions to make for Helpdesk Man’s best friend’s couch, which is unseemly; somehow creatively ModPodgeing my old faux leather boots which are falling apart and showing their faux; a fairy-inspired dress with a ballet top and froofy skirt, for which I bought a lot of expensive fabrics and then panicked because they are sheers and I don’t do sheers, and they’re too expensive to mess up; a Grecian evening gown with a woven bodice which I want to make with some fabric someone gave me, only I don’t think my hips will stand the cut and I don’t have much occasion to wear evening gowns anyway, and Helpdesk Man wouldn’t like it because he objects to dresses that don’t have a defined waist; a pinstriped zipup dress based on a top I got from an op shop, but trying to copy the pattern gave me a headache; a top for the pig made out of this awesome dragonfly flannel I got last year, but she doesn’t need it and by the time she does it’ll be too small to make a whole top; a mini quilt I made ages ago to cover the changing table, which still needs to be bound but is a bit rubbish; a hand-sewn chevron quilt I started years ago, but I’ve gone off the colours; several underbust corsets, because I bought a bunch of spiral steel boning and things a while back, but am waiting on eyelets and inspiration and diligence, etc; new oven mitts; a new manly apron for Helpdesk Man, because his other one went missing; some summery, holidayish fifties-style bright dresses to wear to Disneyland next year to improve our festive moods, including a red polka-dot dress for the pig like Minnie Mouse wears; a smoky blue knitted hoodie with a frill around the bottom and a cabled tree on the back; a knitted grey dress with words from the end of The Return of the King chain-stitched all over it, in case I ever need to go to a book-signing; a harem pant/bellydance-inspired pair of pyjamas, although ovbiously not with dangly coins on them, but with breastfeeding access, but not until my current PJs wear out because of the environment, and they’re proving to be very long-lived; a fairy costume for my friend who’s a fairy at children’s parties, for no good reason except I looked at her costume she bought online and thought “Muahaha, I could totally make that”; a knitted top or two for Helpdesk Man; knitted knee-high socks for me and the pig that have demure wee bows at the top; a new Roman blind for the room of Flatmate Man, because the current one looks like a girly shower curtain; a stuffed pig for my nephew, which was supposed to be his Christmas present, but I got bored with the nose; a knitted top for the pig from a pattern I found online; a two-layer cutout top for the pig that I started making, but it wasn’t going well so I shelved it; and an assortment of hair accessories for myself to match the clothes I am planning to make.

You see the issue? I wouldn’t even swear that’s the lot, either. There’s a bolster cover lurking on my sewing shelf whose origins I can’t even remember… two, actually. Now, not all these ideas are unfinished in the sense that I actually started sewing them. Some of them are nearly done, some I have the fabric for but no notions, some just milled around in my head long enough for me to construct a precise plan. The point is, I spent a lot of mental energy on them. I spent weeks planning that autumn leaf quilt, and I knew at the time it was doomed, even as I said hopefully to myself “I could do a block a week, while I watched movies; it’d only take a few years”. I still have the sketches somewhere, probably.

In fact, the sobering thought occurs to me that if my next year’s New Year’s Resolution was “Finish up all unfinished or thought-out projects”, I couldn’t do it. Not a chance. Not in a year. Does that seem right to you?

Anyway, in the spirit of ignoring my own inadequacies, I thought I would show you pictures of the projects I have actually completed in recent history. Not the squab I finally finished for the bedroom window seat, because it’s a bit dubious and the light was all funny. Here’s a muskrat instead.

Pretty nifty, no?

Here’s a bowtie scarf I made.

This here’s m’ pig.

I made her dress.

She likes it.

I went all arty with the bodice, and Helpdesk Man laughed at me. He is basically a smegger.

He did, however, insist on me putting a bow at the back (see above re. defined waists, which is amoosing because if there’s one attribute the pig doesn’t have, it is a defined waist), and that helps.

Also, in true marvy craft blogger form, this dress was made out of an old bedsheet. Weep in awe.

Anyway. I also made her a hat from a Ruffles and Stuff tute, which is not that super but does in a pinch. She hates it, acourse. She’s always pulling off her hats. But I got her to cooperate while I was taking photos by getting her to say “communism”.

I also knitted her a wee scarf and handwarmers.

And I finished my pinstriped skirt.

That was a rubbish photo and it makes me faintly moop, so I will conclude with another muskrat.

Pretty nifty, no?

Today I was productive. I got up early (well, 8:45, which turned out to be two hours earlier than Helpdesk Man and the snortlepig), zoomed through my writing for the day, started (or Step Threed, technically) a sourdough loaf and breadsticks, made veggie soup for lunch, hewed a foam mattress in half and began constructing a cover for it (it’s to end its days as a squab on our window seat), then got distracted and started knitting a bowtie scarf. And now I gotta make chicken curry and watch Breakfast at Tiffany’s. And do something about the other half of the foam mattress. Anyone want half a dead foam mattress? It would be useful if you hated Helpdesk Man and wished to perform juju on his dead skin cells. Or if you wanted to clone him or something. Or if you were under the kind of gunfire that didn’t seem to warrant a complete mattress. Or if you had an incredibly narrow child. Or if you wanted to make a really rubbish teddy bear, or a moderately realistic mega-sammich. I’m not judging. I just want to get rid of it. Maybe I should make an auxiliary squab for Christmas, with holly on. Wouldn’t that make me the best wife ever?

OK, people. I need suggestions.

Next March or April we are planning a trip to Disneyland - about which I could write many thousands of words, but won’t for the time being. While we’re in the US we naturally wish to squeeze in as many activities as possible, particularly the sorts of things we don’t have in New Zealand. Like, well, everything. So we’re hoping to have dinner at Medieval Times, go to see Wicked, visit Universal Studios, see the San Diego Zoo and Wildlife park, and all that jazz.

And then it occurred to me… USA. Population. Subcultures. Geeks. Conventions!

Sadly Comic-Con is on at the wrong time and place, but thus far I’ve scouted out two potential conventions (in San Diego, I think) - ConDor and MegaCon. Guest lists aren’t up yet, it being a year away, but they both look promising.

So my question is: What costumes can I bring to wear that are portable, unbreakable, preferably washable, non-bulky and otherwise suitable for dragging halfway around the world and back?

The obvious choice for the snortlepig is Ensign Ro, although I’m not sure how to get her to wear the traditional Bajoran earring. Helpdesk Man wants to go as the Tenth Doctor (actually I think he wants to be the Tenth Doctor, but that’s another, deeper issue). Which leaves myself - redheaded but unchesty, which is an inauspicious combination for convention garb.

Any thoughts? I’m open to ideas from Star Wars, Star Trek, Firefly, Buffy, LOTR… pretty much anything except Twilight, in fact. My default option is to attempt to recreate Penny’s outfit from Dr Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog. This mostly appeals because I may be able to get away with wearing it at Disneyland too, even though it’d technically a costume and I’m over 9. And the anarchist in me goes “Heh” at the thought of illicitly wearing Unauthorised Character Garb under the nose of Walt himself. It’s how revolutions happen.

Or I could get around to making the steampunk outfit I’ve been threatening to make for years, and wear that. But Victorian clothing, neo- or not, tends to be bulky and I don’t want to clog my suitcase up with bustles and frills.

I await your suggestions with calm severity.

What I ended up doing was making this tomato sauce, which was vaguely exciting; inventing a recipe for coconut chocolate chip meringues, which was fun; cleaning the kitchen, which was neither; and eating a big ol’ bowl of pasta with the snortlepig while we watched The Princess and the Frog. Again.

So. If your firstborn child had to get twenty-to-life in the clink for something, would you rather it were insider trading or arson? Discuss.

It occurs to me that I tend to leave things hanging on this blog. So, to recap:

• I finished knitting the pig’s scarf. I have also knitted, but not yet sewn up, two wristlets and a headband. The latter I may end up ripping out (or “frogging”, as they call it in the biz - why, I do not know), because my sister sniggered at it and I have been plagued with doubts ever since. It was supposed to be English … something… stitch… lacy, innit, but it has Lumps in it. And I suspect if I end up putting it on the pig I will wince at the photos in coming years.
• Driving lessons seem to have kind of temporarily dried up. I’m not sure why, but it wasn’t due to anything exciting.
• I successfully filled the snortlepig up with the correct amounts of fish, liver etc last week, and have made a meal plan for this week as well. To make things even more exciting, Helpdesk Man’s lack of steady income has caused us to retrench, slimming the grocery store budget down to svelte and cheeseless proportions. I have rationed Helpdesk Man’s chocolate, and were it not for Easter he may have already gone on a rampage.

As some of you may know, I’m a vague, lazy adherent to Traditional Foodism, aka the Weston A Price Foundation system of nutrition. Of late I have decided to step it up a notch, and thus rashly made a pledge in the presence of my online peers to:

• eat fish twice a week
• eat organ meats once a week (and a tablespoon of liver hidden in a largeish lasagna counts - what am I, Wonder Woman?)
• eat yoghurt five times a week
• and consume chicken broth in some form three times a week.

Fish twice a week is a tad pesky, as I don’t drive and only go to the supermarket once a week. I might have to buy frozen, which is problematic because Helpdesk Man once violently hurled after eating some frozen fish - and even though I’m pretty sure it was coincidental, it causes him to view all iced seafood with a rheumy and skittish eye. I cannot blame him, really. I ate a kebab once with little bits of carrot in, and - well, we shall not speak of it. Anyway, apparently fish roe is the most nutrient-dense form of seafood, followed by shellfish, but I simply cannot bring myself to look a mussel in the eye, and the snortlepig made friends with some at the supermarket the other day (”Bath! A having a bath!”), so fish it is. Fissssssh.

So, yup. Tomorrow the lawn-mowing man will be upon us with his claw outstretched for the taking of lucre, so I have to get up early in the morning and walk the piggie to the butcher’s (not as terrible as it sounds). Helpdesk Man is away on Monday nights, so… let’s see here…

Monday: Pasta for dinner, go to butcher’s in morning, get cash out for lawn-mowing man, make hot cross buns for in-laws. Yoghurt for breakfast. Get Helpdesk Man to charm the chappie at work into putting free bus credits on my bus card, which is running out (he thinks the snortlepig is cute in the face - v handy, thrift-wise). Chicken soup for lunch. Try to finish knitting the snortlepig’s other wristlet.

Tuesday:  Yoghurt for breakfast. Go into town and buy wool to knit this top for the snortlepig. Get library books. Stop in at supermarket on the way home and buy fissssh. Fissssh for dinner. Wait, smeg. Mum’s homeschool choir is having its first performance at a rest home, and I am expected to attend for reasons of dubious usefulness. Do the shopping in the afternoon, then. Or whenever the performance isn’t. When is it? Then my choir practice at night. Gotta make something. Something bananoid, gotta use them up. Yus. Defrost gravy beef and liver.

Wednesday: Yoghurt again. Make something crockpoid with the gravy beef, incorporating a minute, token amount of liver. Soak rice. Chicken soup for lunch.

Thursday: Shopping with sister-in-law. Buy fish! Eat fish. Red fish. Blue fish. Have rice with the fish, cooked in chicken stock.

Friday: Date night with Helpdesk Man, a concept that has become laughably meaningless of late, but which will probably involve eating steak on the couch and watching the A-Team while the snortlepig kicks us in the face. Must ask Helpdesk Man what he wishes to eat sometime before Thursday, so as to buy it from the supermarket again. Yoghurt again - by this time, gut is teeming with iridescent life to the point where we will probably cancel Saturday altogether in order to sprint a half-marathon.

Wait. On Friday my practically-nearly-only-brother-in-law will be staying the night in honour of Easter. I shall have to ask my sister what he eats. It better not be fisssh.

At some point during this whole protein-laden debacle, I should also finish sewing the snortlepig’s spotty winter top, query a couple of print articles and write a few more for the web. And clean the light shades, on which flies have rudely throomed. Also experiment with a sugar-salt-water syrup, which tonight I used on my hair admixed with henna as a moisturising agent, but which needs to be more scientifically tested next time I wash it.

K.

First off, in the What The I Don’t Even category… I give you this.

Anyone care to shed some light?

The snortlepig had a pleasant birthday yesterday, not withstanding a random outburst of vomiting which occurred at midday. The pig remained philosophical throughout the episode (which was orange and not at all chunky, for those of my readers who document that kind of thing), merely pointing to the puddles and saying “Cloth?”, which was both tactful and hygienic.

While not upchucking the piggie spent the day feeding duckies with her grandparents, Skyping practically her only aunt who lives in England, and eating all her favourite things for dinner.

The rest of my week promises to be on the busy side, as we are having a braai on Saturday night to celebrate Helpdesk Man’s birthday and a picnic at lunch on Sunday to do the snortlepig’s birthday with her other grandparents. Unfortunately I just discovered Smitten Kitchen, which has caused my culinary ambitions to soar and doubled the size of the grocery bill. The plan is to festivise Sunday lunch with dulce de leche cheesecake squares, make straciatella ice cream and chocolate mud cake with caramel frosting for Helpdesk Man’s birthday cake, and fill in the rest of my leisurely days constructing potato salad, fudge, flatbreads galore, hummus and marinade. Not to mention sewing a hasty winter wardrobe for the snortlepig, the weather having abruptly shifted to winter just as I was thinking about making light autumn clothes. And I have a cold. I can see how Martha Stewart ended up on the inside.

I think I peaked early. Two lessons on I seem to choke more often than glide, growl where I should purr and freeze up with terror at intersections. Oh well. My father-in-law told me at the first lesson that new drivers usually come to a point of getting worse before they get better, so perhaps I am just precocious. At any rate I have now successfully reversed twice and executed a couple of extremely cautious three-point turns.

In happier news, my knitting is coming along. The wristlets which I demoted to dishcloths I ended up ripping out several times, and am more or less committed now to making a wee scarflet for the snortlepig - the kind that fastens with a button. I decided to do the wholething in Continental knit stitch in order to master it - it is boring, but virtuous.

Right now, though, I’ve set it aside for more pressing projects. During the last few days summer has slunk away, and it turns out the snortlepig no longer fits into any of her nice warm clothes. So I am on a long sleeved top-making mish this week, using the fabrics I bought at Spotlight recently and some vintage-ish patterns from Mother. The first one will be a tasteful grey panelled number that I’m adapting from a dress pattern - which, being vintagey, is extremely brief to begin with, so shortening it is pretty easy. It does, however, require facing my two nemeses, sleeves and buttonholes. (Zippers are my third nemesis. Taxes are my fourth. I’m also not keen on right-hand turns. Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.)

I am now an official scholar of the automobilial arts. I have a dodgy-looking temporary licence and everything. And while we’re on the subject, is it license or licence? I can never figure that one out, BA notwithstanding.

This weekend will be full of glamour and sparkle due to the annual Summer Festival, which is currently sitting soggily in the public gardens getting rained on. Assuming the lightning storm clears by tomorrow, Helpdesk Man and I will be moseying down at 9PM to watch Broadway on the Boardwalk, a collection of show tunes sung by the local operatics society. Then on Saturday the piggie and I will trot to a pantomime of Beauty and the Beast and a Food, Wine and Jazz festival - I’m not into wine and have no particular opinion on jazz, but the thought that there might be little bits of cheese to sample on toothpicks justifies the $20 entrance fee in my mind. On Sunday the main event will occur, the Sunset Symphony at which my own dear Helpdesk Man is performing along with his marvy young vocal collective. There will be fireworks, which I like muchly.

Add to that the zoo trip tomorrow, and I have four events for which I need to cook exciting snacks. Plus I have to finish a baby’s bonnet for a friend’s new baby today and go grocery shopping. It is an exciting time to be a Smokey.