A Quick Little Quilt

This is a small, 30" quilt I made for our local hospital.  They collect little quilts for babies in the neonatal ICU.  I've done this technique before, of sewing strips together and making a tube and then slicing and "unsewing" at different points.  It goes pretty fast and it's a fun way to use up scraps.  Looking at it now I wish I'd arranged the colors a little differently, but it's a scrap quilt and some family might appreciate it.

I get a sense of satisfaction that I've used up some fabric, but the bin of scraps is really overflowing right now.  I see a lot more of these little quilts in my future.

I'm so sorry about all the tornado victims this week.  There are a lot of quilters rallying to get quilts out to the affected families.  It's a small thing, but we all hope that quilts convey our love.

Needlework Tuesdy: Santa's Village part 4

I've been plugging away at my little houses for Santa's Village.  Just finished the fourth one, "Mrs. Claus' Cookie Shop." 

It will have a chocolate chip cookie button added at the end.  She'll also get little French knot eyes.  Now on to the next row.  I'm a little behind, but I'm still hoping to get this one done by this Christmas.

Drama Girl took three Advanced Placement tests for college last week.  One more yesterday.  On Saturday she collapsed on the couch and watched a couple of episodes of Aly McBeal.  I haven't seen that show in years but it's still funny.  I needed a change of pace from my big project so I made this tiny cross stitch while I watched with her.  No reason really, except I'm fond of little patriotic things.  I think it looks cute on my little red chair.

Drama Girl called me from school yesterday to tell me she'd been called into the principal's office.  Imagine my reaction.  She built it up all that she could until she finally exploded laughing and said that she'd qualified for the National Merit Scholarship Program.  Way to go Drama Girl!

I'm linking up today with Heather at Books and Quilts.

Roses

This is a painting my husband did recently.  I found this frame around the house but I want to get a better one. 

I think some of my love of flowers is rubbing off on him.  He paints all kinds of things - still lifes, portraits, copies of famous paintings.  These are some of the tiny climbing roses in our yard.  I love this picture.

Mother's Day was full of adventure.  We visited the Disney Family Museum in San Francisco.  I could have spent all day there but I spared my family.  Of course I had to stop in the gift shop.  It was lovely.  Jewelry and posters and art supplies and Little Golden Books.  I could have stayed in there all day as well.  My son was hovering a bit while I shopped.  I remarked on a cute Minnie Mouse clock and laughed about how we haven't had a copy of Dumbo in the house for years.  After a while he suggested I go see what Drama Girl was making in the art room.  While I was visiting her, my son reappeared with my husband and the kids handed over the following little gift: 

I had to laugh.  Way to go with the covert operations!  The story came out that they had been looking for a copy of Dumbo for the past week but had been unsuccessful.  All's well that ends well.  Remind me the next time I'm in a gift shop to admire all the expensive jewelry.

The day finished up with a trip to see The Great Gatsby.  I really liked it, although I kept remembering the Robert Redford version, which made me feel kind of old.  I don't like seeing remakes of movies that came out in my lifetime.  It's like I'm overdue for a remake.

Hope you had a lovely Mother's Day!

My friend Buck

This is my friend Buck.  At least that's what I've named him.  He's been hanging out in my shady front yard off and on for a few weeks while his antlers are growing in.  Yesterday evening I caught this quick shot of my cats looking at him.

He was under the window because he had just been over to the side of the house to see if the gate was open again.  Smart guy.  The phone repairman left the gate open last week and Buck slipped into the back yard and made a feast of my flowers.  I made my husband go out there and shoo him out again.  I have all kinds of respect for those antlers, even if they're still covered in velvet.

It's funny, when I see him outside, I often see one of the neighborhood cats nearby. Curiosity?  I don't know.  My cats are always interested when he's near the window.  Maybe they just find him as cool as I do.

This would all be unremarkable if I lived out in the woods somewhere, but I'm in suburbia.  Houses all around.  I think the deer will just always be here, hiding in hedges and steering clear of cars and dogs.  As long as there are yummy gardens to munch on.

My Morse

I'm in love.  I saw this beautiful pink vintage sewing machine on eBay and I couldn't resist.  It's steel and chrome and about 40 lbs.  The seller says it runs great but I'm going to take it to a shop to be checked before I plug it in.  The plug is very vintage and very sketchy-looking to me.  It was a bit dirty when it arrived so hopefully the shop can help me get some of the grime off of it.

I can't find much information about these old machines.  This model is from the mid-50s I think.  The color is a bit more vibrant in person.  It was made by the same manufacturer who created a line of cars.  It's even stamped "Toyota" on the bottom.  I understand men and vintage cars a little bit more now.  This beauty was built to last, but is also beautiful to look at.  If it were a car it probably would have huge fins.  Like an old car, the parts are easy to come by and everything is accessible if one wants to tinker around and do repairs.  As fun as that sounds, I'm going to take it to someone who works with vintage machines all the time.

I always said I would never be one of those people who has extra sewing machines around the house.  I'm also the one who tells my kids to "never say never."  *sigh*   Don't tell anybody, but this is sewing machine number 4 for me. 

Everything Changes

Do I look different? I feel like I do. A few days ago my six year old laptop turned up its toes and died. It wasn't a happy day. All I got was a blank screen. Even with all the clever tricks I know, I couldn't resuscitate it. So I looked online (on my smartphone) for help. That place that rhymes with "zest guy" quoted $250 for diagnostic and data recovery. Ouch. I turned to Yelp. One guy was really highly rated, and ironically, has a shop just behind zest guy. First thing Monday morning I packed up my dead laptop and headed out.

Now I can insert a long story here about this guy who drove up on his awesome motorcycle just as I pulled up. His old curiosity shop with a murky aquarium and high tech clutter mixed with vintage weirdness. I could tell you about cables that didn't fit my external hard drive, a trip to yet another quirky computer guy who had my daughter's hard drive and cable - that guy had a shop full of birds of all kinds, one of which wouldn't stop wolf-whistling at me. I could have stopped in there for hours just to talk about the exotic lutes he had on display. What is it with colorful computer repairmen? Anyway, it's a typical story of the bizarre world hidden behind the shop fronts I drive by every day.

In the end, with a cable that worked, he was able to take all my data off my laptop. Between all these trips around town, I stopped into zest guy and bought a generic, somewhat cheap laptop. It does about 10x what my old expensive laptop was able to do.

And now I am completely lost.

Windows 8. Do you have it? You can't get a computer without it these days. It's a bit bizarre. I'm trying to be patient while I learn but one wrong swipe of the mouse or keystroke and I am suddenly three screens away from where I was.

 Also, this keyboard is about a millimeter different from my old one. I seriously have to retrain my fingers to type. It's taken a lot of effort just to get the periods to show up on this page.

I had some pictures to go with this post. I haven't gotten my camera software to load yet though.

Perhaps most frustrating of all, this laptop doesn't know me. I suddenly find I have to remember a million passwords, some of which I haven't entered in years.

So - happy to have new technology at my fingertips, but not really enjoying the process of getting up to speed with it.

 I miss my old dinosaur laptop. I've turned into one of those people.

A Letter From My 16 Year Old Daughter to the Senate

Today, I am ashamed to call myself an American.

        I will carry this shame with me until the Senate decides to pass a bill that expands background checks on purchasers of guns. Any bill, whether it’s President Obama’s gun control package or the Manchin--Toomey plan. Any bill at all that does anything to atone for the violence and hatred that has been so recently running rampant throughout our country. Anything at all to comfort, however slightly, the heartbroken families of the Sandy Hook victims and the countless others suffering because of loved ones lost to gun violence. But until that day, I am ashamed.

        I know there have been compromises proposed by both parties. I will not pretend to be an expert where gun control is concerned. But I do know that President Obama has proposed measures expanding background checks and banning certain military-style weapons. I have no statistics for you, no data that says the number of attacks that would be avoided because of these measures or how many potential murderers will be stopped because of them. If you want this kind of evidence, then my argument is already lost, because I believe that this is not an issue of science or numbers but of human compassion and responsibility. I have no data, only this simple belief--that more background checks would decrease the number of mentally unstable people purchasing guns. Even if it only stops one person, just one person who could have bought that gun but was stopped, then maybe that background check just saved an entire elementary school. To me, this is the same principle as airport security--as American citizens, we are willing to undergo certain inconveniences for the sake of our safety. I will not argue against the right to carry a gun, only against the assumption that everyone has the right to do so. There are bad people in this world.

        I hope that you will understand why I feel this way, because I have tried and tried but I still cannot see your point of view. I cannot understand how you can look at these victims, how you can look Gabrielle Giffords in the eyes and say to them, “I want to help.” You said that to them when you chose to serve on the United States Senate. You took a promise, your personal moral values aside, to help the people of this country. Yet in the very room where that hope and promise of the future is supposed to be brought about, by you, you instead turn to these families and say, “I will not help you.” Though to be fair, perhaps in your mental narrative it goes something like this--”You see, I want you help you, but--” And then perhaps you will go on to explain yourself. You might mention the pressures of the National Rifle Association, or were there political factors that were involved in your decision. I only hope, that when you offer some sort of excuse for yourself, you will not embarrass this nation further by claiming that you acted on your own conscience. If that is the case, then my shame is only worsened, because instead of weak-willed political puppets making decisions about my safety, instead I have monsters. Instead I have people who cannot empathize with the suffering of their country.

        Before, I was not afraid of guns. I am a sixteen-year-old girl living in the Bay Area of California, a place I believe to be one of the most open-minded and safe places to live. I thought I was removed from the horrible deeds of the world. I didn’t have to worry about getting shot on my way to school. But wasn’t that the same train of thought subconsciously running through the minds of those elementary school children on their way to Sandy Hook? Didn’t they believe they were safe? They didn’t realize it, but they had you to protect them. That is your job. To protect every child who is simply going to school. To protect every single person in this country. They trust you, whether they have learned about our country’s government system or not. They know that there is someone out there looking out for them, someone who can make a difference.

        There are bad people in this world. I am old enough to understand that, and I had hoped that you are too. Sometimes, these bad people can’t be reasoned with. There isn’t always a happy ending for their story, and they will go on to do bad things. But we have our government, our lawmakers, and our policemen, actively protecting us against anything that would harm us. There are laws in place regulating unsafe working conditions and laws against murder. These are beautiful things that our country has created, that our government has created. These laws act to protect the most important human right we have--our lives. And we have you to thank for that.

        Until today.

        Until today, when suddenly I am very, very afraid of losing that right which I hold dear. Now, I am afraid. It is not because there will be more violence, and it is not because I am now more aware of it. I am afraid because the people I thought would protect me have left me, and I suddenly feel very small.

        I’m just a teenager trying to get through my junior year. I don’t really mind blending in with countless other Americans right now. I don’t need to stand out or do important things, because at the moment, I am only responsible for myself, my family, and my friends, and that’s enough. When I am old enough to vote, I will be responsible for my country, and I will take that right more seriously than anything else I have done so far. Because in that small way, I can speak directly to you, a single, tiny voice in a vast crowd, shouting to be heard by you, the people who can make a difference.

        Today, my voice is lost. The voice of the nation is lost in that room where you voted today. I don’t know how you drowned out the voices of nearly 90% of our nation, but somehow the sound must not have bothered you enough.

        So here I am, bothering you. Do you know how much difference one annoying person can make? Almost as much as an entire country. We will be here, shouting at the top of our lungs. We want to be safe. We want you to be our protectors. That is why we chose you. Now, we just want you to do your job. 

        Please. Because I just want something to hold onto. Some good people in the world for me to turn to as I grow up and see more bad things, more violence and hatred and evil. People I can trust. People who I know will always, always do their very best to protect my life and my rights, so that I can still feel safe on my way to school.

        Will you be that kind of person for me?