Hot Springs

Last month I was down in Hot Springs for a couple of rock star gigs. While the band was rehearsing, I explored the town. LB swears we spent a few hours there on our honeymoon, but I have no recollection of ever being there before. It was a lovely honeymoon, but there's no way I was that starry-eyed as to forget the awesomeness that is Hot Springs.

Anyhoo, with the assistance of the internet, I managed to score six pressed pennies, but totally without the use of the internet, I managed to find a relatively new yarn store, Knittin' on the Corner. I'm amazed I even stumbled across it because it's not on a corner; it's tucked up on the back of the second floor of a little shopping complex.

It was a lovely, airy shop, with heavy stock  in Feza, Plymouth, and Tahki.

After looking and looking, I came up with this wildly exciting skein of brown yarn.

I actually am excited about it as I had been looking for a worsted weight in a natural sheep color for a thrummed cap.

Also while there I checked out a Civil War exhibit and spotted this beautiful dolly.

Family history says she came from France to Memphis in 1850. Later, the owner gave the doll to her niece in Pine Bluff, Ar. Check out the wee knitted hose.

The weekend gave me the chance to do my thing is this gorgeous ballroom. Here's hoping I get to go back next year.

Scenes from a Rock-Star Weekend

Having managed to score exactly 5 1/2 hours of temp work this summer, I am essentially making a living as a rock star. The last time we did this, I finally had to turn to a food pantry and only got through it because I was hired to be a rock star on a reality show. We're okay so far, just barely, and the few lucrative gigs I've got fall just before the mortgage is due at least.

This weekend, minus gas, I probably made about $10. At least I got these photos.

Ranty Pants

Because I have been living a particularly insular life of late, I haven't been able to vent much. Whining is bad, but the occasional vent is good. Releases pressure and all that.

Trouble is, much of my internet life is observed ... by my parents, now both of them; by co-workers or even supervisors; by potential clients, etc. I've had to hold back on quite of bit of venting.

The pressure having built to a critical mass, however, I'm going to allow myself one tiny rant.

At one of my rock star gigs this weekend, people kept coming up to me to tell me about oncoming storms. I was at a reenactment, where there were tents and horses and such, but our part of it was indoors and the people with horses always have someone on picket duty. It had rained heavily earlier in the day, and at that moment we could also all see the gathering clouds out the window.

Here's a typical conversation:

Guy comes up to me at the microphone between tunes (never a great time) and holds his iPhone up for me to see.
Me, noticing it's not on: It's black.
Him, thinking he's actually showing me something: Yes, I know, scary isn't it.
Me: No, your phone is black.
Him: Yep, that's quite the storm coming.
Me: Yes, I can see the clouds.
Him: Oh, my iPhone is off. Hold on. [fiddles with iPhone]
Me, in my head: [Dude, I'm trying to run a dance here. What do you want me to do about it?]
Him: Here you go! [shows me the radar on his phone, which confirms what we can all see out the window]
Me, just to get rid of him and get back to my job: Thanks, I'll make an announcement.

I tell the dancers that a storm is coming and that they may want to tend to their tents. A few people glance at the window, but no one leaves. Not five minutes later, another guy (why is it always a guy?) comes up to tell me a storm is coming with quarter-size hail.

Really? Because I just announced a storm. A storm we could all see out the window. Clearly, because you didn't hear me announce it, another announcement probably won't alert anyone, let alone prevent the storm. What else do you want me to do?

The hail, btw, never materialized.

Wedding Quilt

Our friends Andy and Hope got married earlier this year in a wonderful ceremony on the bluffs overlooking the Mississippi River. Everything was just beautiful--low key but full of love.

Weddings are tough for me, largely because of the expense of a gift. I usually can't afford to get something off the gift registry. I thought and thought and thought about what to get Hope and Andy and finally decided to make them a quilt.

I used five pairs of jeans. Four came from LB and one (the darkest) from me. I particularly like the hickory stripe jeans border. That particular pair had been ripped down the front of one leg, so I really had to do a lot of piecing, especially on the last strip in order to get enough fabric. Still, I love to see piecing on a quilt--to me, it tells a story.

Here's the story of this quilt:


I went with a long cabin pattern because Hope and Andy bought some rural property in the foothills of the Ozarks and are developing it.

Andy plays the stand-up bass, so I inserted a little scrap of vintage square dance fabric.


He met Hope at a dance, so I put her in too. Hope is prettier though.


Finally, I put a block for the two of them dancing at the center of the log cabin.


I didn't use any batting because the denim is already fairly heavy. Hope works for an environmental firm, so I knew she wouldn't mind some paint splatters and spots on LB's jeans. I hate the idea of working so hard on a project only to have the recipients decide it's too nice to use.


For the backing, I used some vintage blue and green fabric (circa early '60s, I think) a friend gave me. I've got lots and lots of this fabric, so I expect it to show up in future quilts too.



On the back, I signed the quilt by appliqueing on a pocket from the hickory stripe jeans.


I wish them both much happiness.

Musical Chairs

LB and I hosted five musicians last week, in town auditioning for a State Department music/diplomacy program. It was a whole lot of closeness and apparently eight pots of coffee a day, but it all worked out. Sherman enjoyed all the laps to snuggle on, whether there was room for him or not.


I feel really fortunate when I house musicians (or any traveller, really). We don't have much money, but the ability to say "Sure, you can stay with us. Tonight? No problem. How many of you are there?" is a real blessing. We live a block from a shopping district, have an extra vehicle to loan out, and can sleep five to seven guests comfortably. Lucky, I say.

Last night, we got comped tickets to see Foghorn Stringband. Nadine, the base player, noticed my knitting and asked me to look at her cabled i-pad cover. She felt it didn't look like the photo in the pattern. The more I thought about it, I think the designer did some major photoshopping to highlight the contrast between her cable and the background. The photo looked almost unnatural.

Not much of a story there, really, just a reminder to myself that, all things considered, things are pretty good.

The Edge of the World (Part 1)

I recently stumbled across the 1937 film, The Edge of the World, filmed on the island of Foula. Like Roan Inish, it has fabulous knitwear but in this case it's real, not vintage or costumey.

The plot is fairly weak, but the scenery is breath-taking and worth slogging through the film,which is only 1.25 hours anyway. There's also a bit of fiddling and dancing if that's your thing. As far as I can tell, it's not on Youtube but is on Netflix.

There are some great ganseys for the men.

Andrew, the love interest


Robbie, the twin brother of Ruth


and John, the clergyman (and also the fiddler)


Andrew also wears that look I love, the belted, tucked-in sweater. So hot! Seriously, I am not joking about how weak in the knees this look makes me. Plus, he looks like my Irish boyfriend (the immigrant, not the one who stayed) complete with receding hairline.


There are many scenes involving sheet herding, sheep dogs, and more, including an odd one where the sheep are all gathered and shorn (seemingly by plucking the hair).


There's also an illegitimate birth that gets absolutely no moral commentary. The child is warmly welcomed by the villagers as the first birth on the island in many years.

The baby is swaddled in a lovely blanket


and also wears a sweet, lacy layette.



More on the women's wear in a second post.

Fiddle Blankets

We have a joint birthday party to attend this weekend and wanted to come up with some nice gifts. Don't worry, the recipients don't read this blog (I think). One guy is an attorney and the other is a union rigger who travels the country doing concerts and such. Seriously, what could I get with no budget?

Fortunately, I've been diligent about keeping my craft room tidy. I've so much more to do, but I've been deaccessioning, completing, and most importantly, tidying up afterwards.

Both friends are fiddlers, which is how I know them, so I decided to make what I now know are called "fiddle blankets." Fiddle blankets sit in the fiddle case between the fiddle and bow and protect one from the other.

First, I got on facebook to see what kind of cases these two guys had. Fortunately, both use the same modern, single-fiddle case. Next, I went to the violin shop where I used to work, took some measurements (8.25" by 23.5" for the record), and asked some questions about fabrics and drape.

My old boss dug through a box in the back and popped out with these beauties:


There's tambour work, silk crewel, wool, velvets, silk ribbons, pinked scallops, cording, machine quilting, and just more gorgeousness than I could believe. Old cases were shaped (and often made by coffin makers btw), but I didn't have to worry about that.

For the backing, I chose some burgundy silk and a vintage poly lining. The bias tape I had from a vintage apron project I planned about 8 years ago and never executed. I probably shouldn't have used the yellow, but I did, and I've made my peace with it. Ideally, the fabric closest to the fiddle should be relatively slick so as not to scratch the varnish or leave lint.


For the top of one blanket, I dug into my stash of quilting cottons and made 3" blocks. I've collected quite a few music and dance fabrics. I also needed more blocks to harmonize (I so didn't intend that pun) with the chocolate and raspberry on the back. That color combination, it turns out, was popular in the nineteenth century, so I supplemented with a variety of reproduction cottons.


For the other blanket--and this was a fairly emotionally wrenching choice--I cut a panel from a vintage skirt I'd bought on ebay ages ago. I'd never worn the skirt as it was teen-sized with about a 22" waist, and I had even gone so far as to take out the side seam and waistband years ago.

I went back and forth about cutting into it just to give it away, but my friend Willie had stopped by for a visit. Willie is, to put it mildly, a minimalist--as in live-on-the-beach-in-Baja minimalist. The combination of him lounging nearby while I worked, the pleasure of crafting in a tidy craft room, Steu laving Willie's feet, and one of surely the last warm breezes of the year coming in through the open window, came over me. I cut that fabric.


I'm glad.

Here they are together. I hope my friends like them. I figure at the very worst, they can use them for a table runner or wall hanging.


________________

A few other quick pics just to get them over with:

For LB's birthday last month, he asked for a chocolate bombe. I made two as I owed a favor to another friend. There's nearly two pounds of chocolate in each. Inside, there's white chocolate mousse, chocolate mousse, a layer of pecan cake, and the outside is covered in chocolate ganache and chocolate curls.


Second, the cochineal scarf is progressing beautifully.


More on that another time.

ps: I forgot to mention that for the batting of the fiddle blankets, I used some wool flannel I had in my stash. Total cost of projects (not factoring in that at one point I did actually spend money on all this stuff): $0.00!

In which our heroine gets snowed in ...

My access to a computer took a six-day hiatus during Snowpocolypse 2011, which shut down both school and my LYS. In a desperate attempt to get a paid article published, I even had to knock on a neighbor's door to upload a photo.

I made use of the time by making two dog coats, watching a few Oscar nominees (The Illusionist, Toy Story 3, The Kids Are All Right, and Wolf Man), going to a house concert, and cooking.

Our friends, Jim and Kim Lansford, gave a house concert at Sqwires annex. While technically not a house concert, since it wasn't actually in a house, it had a lovely, intimate feel.

And, since it was in a restaurant and not technically at a house concert, we could order from the Sqwires menu. The first time we went several years ago, Sqwires frankly sucked. This time, the food was great. We ordered the sampler platter which had caramelized dates on a skewer. I may never recover from how good they were. It would be so easy to make this at home.

The crostini was delicious with tons of flavor and not too too crispy. The tomato relish was clearly homemade, and I enjoyed the flavors of summer in the middle of a snowy winter. The platter also included sausages, fried artichokes, and brie. The fried chickpeas were the only thing I wasn't crazy about--just meh--needed salt or spice or something.

We also split a chocolate ravioli for dessert. You'll have to take my word that it was a work of art.

I helped LB turn his baseball cap around backwards so that it wouldn't get in his way when he licked the plate. One of the benefits of a house concert is that you are only among friends, and true friends don't care if you lick the plate.

LB also wanted me to take a photo of the spoon bread. I don't know why.

My Second Favorite Banjo

Years ago, I worked for a violin-maker. I mostly did his bookkeeping, but occasionally he let me use rottenstone to clean some instruments, not the ones in the walk-in safe, but student models.

In the safe lay the really valuable instruments; the insanely valuable ones got stored off-site in a safe deposit box, but that's another story. My favorite was, not surprisingly, a banjo. For some reason, I've always recalled it as a Vega White Lady, but the more I think about it, it was probably an Epiphone. I'd beg my boss to take it out of the safe just so I could look at it.

Whatever the brand, it was definitely a whorehouse special. It was a creamy white, with a closed back covered in gilt and mother of pearl inlay. The headstock and the fingerboard had more of the same. Everything that could get encrusted on this banjo gleamed. This thing practically glowed in the dark.

A few weeks ago, I found my second favorite banjo.

Using the torque converter for a '56 Buick and an aluminum dishpan, Jenes Cottrell (pronounced JEN-ess) built this banjo on a foot-powered lathe in a Clay County, West Virginia home with no electricity, gas, nor running water. He'd even make banjo pots out of pressure cookers.

You can hear some archives of Jenes's music and jokes here.

Best of all is the inlay--slices of plastic knitting needles set directly into the neck (there's no fingerboard), back, and headstock.

Given my susceptibilities, how could I not fall in love?

In Which Our Heroine Gets Stuff (Part 3)

Something must be in the water, because right as I decided to write a post about how our heroine gets stuff, more stuff arrived. Much more stuff. Thank heavens I love me some stuff.

On Halloween, when I was being a rock star, my friend Joe gifted me with this smiley. I'm not sure why, exactly, but it definitely makes me smile.

Joe welds for a living, and a few years ago started using scrap from his job to make things of beauty.

He made our bottle tree, which I think he drives by and visits from time to time.

When LB and I got married, Joe made us a rock star yard ornament.

There's a fiddler,

a guitarist,

a banjo player,

and one little ol' rock star--complete with microphone and index card.

LB was home for less than 24 hours, but when he left I found this book (and a pile of cash too, which is good because I like me some cash).

I think it may be from my sister, but there was no note.

Each page tells the story of the "real" Princess Alyss and her adventures in coming to London. Many of the pages have tiny envelopes with mysterious missives (ephemera!!! squee!). I have been treating myself to one page an evening before I go to bed. Last night, I was wicked and read two.

Thanks Bunchie!

Then at knit night, the lovely and talented Sharon gave me these awesome Day of the Dead stitch markers. I now have nearly as many Day of the Dead stitch markers as I do Mardi Gras ones, which is good because I love me both Day of the Dead and Mardi Gras.

Definitely feeling the love!