Too Damn Hot for Anything...

It's too hot for anything.  Even my air conditioned house is still pretty hot.  This is why I live where I do, and not in Florida.  Except, oddly enough, right at this moment, it's cooler in Florida.  

I have a whole list of things I want to do, but this heat is sucking the motivation out of me so that I'm just sitting around like a slug, watching the dog pant.  She's too hot, too.

It's too damn hot for anything except maybe catching a water-mohawk on film...

It's harder than it looks.

Catching it on film, I mean.

Plus, there's one crucial thing you need...

hair.

I mean, LONG hair.  Sorry, Son.

Still, it's more fun than watching my electric meter spin.

And I do mean spin...

See the blurry dial under the large word, "Kilowatthours" ?

It's blurry because it's moving so fast. 

There should be a little coin-jingle noise to go with that spin.  

I do believe that maybe I need to spend some time making water-mohawks.

Stay cool, friends. 

The things you find while cleaning out your junk drawers...

     The other day, while cleaning out some junk drawers in the kitchen, I came across this lovely item.  It's my grandpa's pepper grinder.   I've had it in various drawers since he passed away in 1995.  It needed some repairs that I just hadn't gotten around to doing so there it sat, in the kitchen drawer of my various kitchens until just the other day when I took it out, put it back together (with the help of the two perfectly fitting washers you can see under the handle that I robbed from my husband's parts-stash).  Perfect!  It grinds pepper like a champ - I suspect, exactly the way it did 60 years ago when it was new.  My dad remembers it from when he was a kid in the 1940s.  

     From the time I was very young, my grandmother would ask me to help her set the table for dinner, and after everything else was on the table, she would say to me, "... and put this next to Grandpa's plate."  I loved this little thing - its small size, the fact that it looked like a miniature barrel, the sliding lid for the peppercorns, the simple mechanics of it - I always thought it was just perfect.  Now it reminds me of dinners there at my grandparents house, with everyone sitting around the table chatting, passing plates of course after course of wonderful food.  

     My grandfather spent much of his time in the backyard garden in the summer.  In the winter he painted.  Great, big oil paint portraits of unknown people, posing in robes and postures of people from the Renaissance.  

     I always like this lady best.  My grandmother wouldn't let him hang the pictures upstairs, so their finished basement looked like an art gallery with pictures lining all the walls.    In defense of my grandma, they were rather large...   I found a place for this one in my own house, hanging on the wall in the stairwell - visible to all those going down the stairs.  'Hello, lady,' I sometimes think when I'm walking down the stairs, 'you look happy today.' 

     Still, the pepper grinder holds a special place in my heart, because while the painting was his solitary hobby, the eating reminds me of the family.  Once, when my grandmother asked me to call Grandpa to dinner, I walked a few steps down into the basement and yelled, "Grampa! Come uppa stairs!" in perfect imitation of his Italian accent.  He found this endlessly amusing, and the family laughed about it for years.  

     He had a good sense of humor.  I was not very old when I grew taller than him - he was only about 5'4" or so, and age shrunk him a bit, I'm sure.  He started calling me Shorty.  

"Hey, Shorty!'

"Hey, Grandpa!"

    So Grandpa, consider this a tribute from your Shorty.  From now on, whenever I grind fresh pepper onto my food, I'll think of you.    

5 Reasons Why I Would Not Make a Good Boater

Living on Long Island, it is no coincidence that we have many good friends who are boaters.  For the purposes of this post, I will call them boat people - they are the people with boats.  Though I love these people dearly, I do not share their passion for boating, and I have come to the conclusion that I will most likely never be a boat person.

Look at these boats... they're beautiful, and it's a beautiful setting.  Who would not want to spend lots of time out here on one of those lovely boats, communing with nature?   For the past week or so, Long Island has been in the middle of a heat wave, which means it's been above 90 degrees and humid as a sauna.

1.  The heat.  When it's 90+ degrees and humid as a sauna, the LAST place I want to be is out in the blazing sun.  My boat people friends were out there walking around looking fresh and sunny and I was melting like an ice cream cone on the hot pavement.

2.  All that moving of stuff - onto and off of the boat...  the food, the bathing suits, the towels, the sunscreen...  Am I making too big of a deal out of this?  And what if I forget something?  My husband makes fun of me sometimes because I would forget my head if it wasn't attached to my shoulders.  With a boat, you're carrying stuff into your car, then from the car to the boat, then the boat to the shore, then back into the boat, then back into the car, then back into the house.  Seriously though, all this movement reminds me of the futility of making my bed - why should I make my bed every morning when I'm only going to get back into it again in a bit more than 12 hours?  Does everyone not feel this way about making the bed?

3.  The sunscreen.  Sunscreen works well when you use it.  Mr. Golden Sun may look friendly, but don't let him fool you - when you're not paying attention he will sneak up on you and fry you like a slice of crispy bacon.  There is no time off for good behavior - you may have used sunscreen all of your life, but he's just waiting for that ONE time you forget (ask me how I got THIS particular piece of wisdom) to give you sunburn lines that make you look like a human version of Rudolph, and remind you in not so subtle ways of the EXACT length of your shirt sleeves that day.  If you think that's bad, in a few days you'll be peeling like a snake.  Fun stuff.

4.  Salt and Sand.  Under my toes - awesome.  In my hair - not so much.  Don't get me wrong, when I was a little kid, I used to put sand in my hair because I liked picking it out.  I'd swear that people with dreadlocks start their dreads with a trip to the beach.  Personally, when I want to say goodbye to the salt and sand with a nice fresh-water shower, the thought of swaying to and fro with the tide while attempting to rid myself of the cup of sand I've accumulated during the day sounds like it requires a little too much coordination.  

5.  Which brings me to...  my lack of sea-legs.  My mother-in-law states that she got sick on the tea-cup ride at Disney World.  Well, I am right there with ya, Mom, and a day of swaying to and fro is probably more than my eustachian tubes can bear.  See the boardwalk in the picture below?  There are some days when I feel like that on dry land.  (By the way, wavy boardwalk courtesy of Hurricane Sandy)

In the same way that my husband can go to a party, be the life of said party, and then, somewhere are around midnight (you would swear he was Cinderella) be seized with the need to go home RIGHT NOW because he's grown tired of socializing, I can go to the beach, enjoy the sun, sand, etc, and then somewhere around sunset, become VERY GLAD that I don't own a boat which would require me to stay a few minutes longer.  So boat people I am more than willing to spend some time visiting you at the beach. I will totally enjoy the atmosphere and your company.  But when it's time to go, it's time to go!  Until next time on the water!

Love, the Landlubber!

Summertime... (the long anticipated!)

It's almost here...  

Summer vacation.

This year, after much thought and consideration,  I will be off for several weeks. Seven weeks to be exact.  Lest you think I live amongst the rich and famous, let me assure you that I listened to my husband worry about this for the last few months.  I assured him it would be ok, and wouldn't it be great that I would be able to do things with the kids while they're home from school?  He seriously thought about this one recent Sunday while he cooked us all eggs over easy with bacon, and he decided yes, it WOULD be lovely - especially when I take over Sunday breakfast duty.  (DAMN!)

For a few months I've been working on a list of things I want to do over the summer - mostly things I want to do with the kids.  It's by no means complete, but it's a start...

When I thought of something, I added to the list on my phone.  This is just one of about 3 different lists I started.  Do I get credit for listing the stuff, even if I don't get to actually DO it all?  Maybe I can convince my son to do the power washing.  Although, he might power wash his sister instead.  I figure, if I play my cards right, I might be able to get them to do certain unsavory chores if I can offhandedly mix them in with the fun stuff, i.e., "I'll take you guys to the beach...

...if you just do the dishes while I clean out this junk drawer, ok?  Might work...

I'm hoping we can try out some crafts I found on Pinterest.

Not necessarily these, but you get the idea.

One thing I DON'T want to do is too much of this:

...and don't tell me you have no idea what I'm talking about.  I've seen a bunch of you complaining about your Candy Crush addiction on Facebook.  I know what you mean - I'm stuck now on level 116.   Is anyone out there willing to be my sponsor in a 12 steps to quitting Candy Crush program?  I think I may set a timer for myself when I start to play...  then I can jump out of my SKIN when it rings and disturbs my concentration.  All I know is, I'm seeing brightly colored pieces of candy when I close my eyes, and that is downright disturbing.  At least I managed to quit Farmville and Castleville, and I'm determined not to let any other _villes into my life. 

So now I'm down to waiting for the last few days before summer vacation starts... stick with me and I'll keep you updated.

Can it live up to the hype I've created in my own mind?  I think so... 

One of MY best teachers

I imagine that great teachers are defined differently by different students at different times in their lives.  I can say that I certainly had a good share of wonderful teachers, as well as a few not so wonderful ones.  It is my belief that the key point is not what the teacher can force into the student's head; rather, it's how the student feels about learning in that classroom... what the student believes he or she can learn.

In my freshman year of college, I considered several options for my major.  None of them would guarantee me a job, but then, the real job market was still four years away.  I toyed with the idea of Psychology, Human Relations (what IS that?  I never bothered to find out) and English. I secretly wanted to be an English major, but I had heard from various sources that it was a difficult major wherein the student read and analyzed loads novels written in other centuries, and in their senior year wrote a 50 page thesis.  Yes, that's 5-0 pages... with endnotes and an extensive bibliography.   I nourished my secret hope until I got to Freshman English class.  Having been a student in high school who did relatively well in English, I did not realize what a surprise I was in for in this class.  Our first papers were returned to us with virtually no sentence untouched by the red pen.  The phrases, AWK, PASSIVE! and WHAT?  were written extensively in the margins.  I remember going home one afternoon, clutching my C+ paper in my hand and wondering if I would have to give up on the English major idea.  How was I going to be an English major when I was clearly unable to write a sentence worthy of Freshman English?  I slogged through my assignments until one day, Sister Loretta assigned this as our next paper topic:

"Write a paper supporting one of the following statements:

The purpose of education is to obtain a high paying career.

The purpose of education is not for careers."   

Now, I was not stupid.  I knew all of my college professors would be in favor of the second statement and not the first.  But the paper had to be backed up with supporting evidence in either case.  Still, even though I was not the typical liberal-minded college student (I later on wrote a paper supporting Reagan's economic policy - the "trickle-down" effect), this was the argument I fully believed in.  

At the beginning of the following class, my professor, Sister Loretta began the class session by telling us that overall, our essays had been abysmal.  "I gave them to a friend of mine, Brother Benilde, to grade, and as you may or may not know, he's a tough critic..."

The papers were handed out...  red marks and indecipherable doctor-like handwriting decorated every paper.  My heart sank.  I received my paper and there were marks, but not TOO many.  I read them carefully, and then, on the back page, this stunner:

"a well-written, logical argument...  AT LAST!"     

It was like the heavens had opened, and choirs of angels had serenaded me with their joy!  Brother Benilde thought I had a logical argument!  There was hope!!

Next, I took Classical Literature. Does any non-Literature major have any idea what Classical Literature even IS?  Try this on for size:  it's basically literature from the time when men walked around with olive branches on their heads and white robes and sandals were THE fashion statement. The Iliad, not to be confused with the watered-down, high school version of the much more entertaining Odyssey.  The Iliad (better known as, "... and the blade sliced through his throat, and fluids burst forth, and his head, still speaking, hit the dust") is about a very long, gory war, and this was before the movie version with Brad Pitt.  This time my professor WAS Brother Benilde, who was intimidating in class, but anyone could tell he was extraordinarily intelligent.  He had no tolerance for bullshit.   If you wanted an A, you had to write three papers.  Write two papers and you would get no better than a B.  One paper = a C, and that's if it's a good paper.  I worked my BUTT off just to read and understand the Iliad (one guy who sat next to me argued about why we got a quiz at the beginning of every class asking us, "how many toenails does Achilles' horse have") but I was stymied in understanding what he wanted for his papers.  I got my first draft back all marked up, with a curt, "see me"  written on the bottom, and I was forced to ask him for help.  I'll never forget walking up to his desk and asking that question.

"All you have to do is...."  (I don't remember the details, all I remember is the next part...) 

"Look, you can do this."  

And so I did.  I did Classical Literature, with the catalogue of ships and the endless bodies dropping into the sand, culminating with Hector and Achilles doing laps around the fortress until finally Hector, even with his noble heart, was defeated.  I had Brother Benilde for other classes - The Comedies of Shakespeare, "the quality of mercy is not strained...," The Tragedies of Shakespeare, in which even though I was born and raised a Roman Catholic girl, I heard the only explanation of confession that EVER made any sense to me, 

"... What was Romeo's mistake?  What was Juliet's mistake?  They didn't take it to the community... They isolated themselves from the community.  If they had joined in the FABRIC of HUMANITY (one of his all time favorite phrases - I loved it - doesn't it create a nice visual for you?  The Fabric of Humanity?  Like a beautiful, colorful quilt. ) If they had taken their PROBLEM to the COMMUNITY, they would not have killed themselves.  You see, the community SHARES the problem, lessens it.  Just like in confession.  In confession, you take your problems to the community - you unburden yourself, and the problems become smaller and more manageable."    

Did you ever have a time in your life when you could almost feel your mind expanding?  This teacher truly taught me how to think... not WHAT to think, but how to think... how to reason logically, create a hypothesis and follow it through to its conclusion with supporting evidence... in writing.  I underestimated the importance of that time in my life.  Sometimes you don't understand the importance of things when you are in them... that you can almost literally do anything you want to do.   When you have that feeling, you need to spend some time wallowing in it.  If you get that feeling, most likely you can thank some sort of teacher.  Sometimes you just need someone to back you up.  Someone to say, "Look, you can do this."

More Props - a Large Key, Money Pouches, Trays to Sell Soft Drinks, and a Chicken Feed Bag.

My daughter's class is putting on a play this week.  I'm not sure exactly what it's about, but it is social studies related, and if you saw my previous post in which I made her Native American dress, then you know it has something to do with Native Americans and the Early American Settlers.  Here is what I was asked to make:

Maps...  I made 3 of these earlier in the week.  My first two attempts did not turn out well, but finally I hit upon the method that created these.  I crumpled some scrapbook cardstock and dipped it in concentrated tea.  Then I laid out the sheets and let them air dry.  I ironed them the next day with a t-shirt over them - my first attempt at ironing this cardstock caused it to stick horrendously to the iron.  NOT FUN!!  I drew my designs on the maps with a Sharpie.  

Did you notice I put a few Princess Bride references in there?  The Bog of Eternal Stench (or was that Monty Python...?) the Cliffs of Insanity, and The Fire Swamp.  I'm sure no one will be able to see them let alone be amused by them, but hey, they amuse ME.  So much for the maps...

One of the characters in this play apparently needs to sell Coca-Cola the way they do at a baseball game.  I had to make trays to hold the cans, with the cans inside.  I got two small boxes and cut them down to a shallow depth.  Then I had my daughter search out a nice Coca-Cola logo on the internet.  We printed it 3 times for each box - once for each side of the box that the audience would see (see, I'm learning - don't waste time on the stuff they won't see!).  I glued some styrofoam peanuts to the bottom of each can so they stood up higher in the box, but if you measure your can in the box FIRST, BEFORE decorating the outside of the box, then you won't have to do this.  Next, I put the string on the box so it could be worn by the Coca-Cola salesperson.  With a pen, I poked two holes in the box for each end of each cord.  I made the cords crisscross so that they wouldn't fall off the actor's shoulders.  Lastly, I glued the empty Coca-Cola cans to the sides of the box.  The audience won't be able to see the tops of the cans so they shouldn't notice that they're empty.    

Next, my daughter and I worked on the chicken feed bag.  I learned today that having this particular prop was her idea - she said the boy who feeds the imaginary chickens in the play, "Doesn't do it very well - he looks like he's dealing cards, so I thought he needed a feed bag."  Nice.  

I bought about a yard and a half of burlap. This stuff shreds very easily, and it makes little particles that float in the air when you cut it.  Asthmatics beware...  I decided to make the bag 2 layers thick to make it more sturdy, and also less transparent.  First, I evened out the edges.  I think the guy who cut this at the fabric store wasn't paying attention to what he was doing...

I sewed the two layers together on the cut edge on each side with bias tape so help minimize any shredding.  Kids tend to be hard on props, so I thought this would be a good idea.  I stitched across the top just to hold the two layers together, but for the top, I liked how the raw edge looked.  This top edge was pre-stitched from the factory to keep it together.  It adds a nice rustic look.  After I was done, I folded the whole thing in half and sewed these two bias tape sides together, and then I sewed across the bottom with a nice fat zig-zag stitch.  Then I turned the bag inside out so you wouldn't see the bias tape.  WALLA!!

For the outside decoration, we used kiddie stamps I have from when I worked at a preschool.  I had my daughter stamp "Chicken Feed" on the front and then I painted a silhouette of a chicken in the middle.  

Finished!

For the key, I used 2 packages of Sculpy Clay in gold.  I had my girl soften the clay while I drew a key shape on the screening with hot glue from the glue gun.  I didn't want the tiny pieces of screening to come loose after I'd cut out the shape.  In retrospect, I should have used a stiffer wire - it would have given the key more body - but I was too lazy to go search for a piece.  

We started making flat piece of the clay, and covering each side of the key shape.  When both sides were covered, I pressed very firmly to get each side to adhere to the other through the screening, and I smoothed them out to attach the edges.  I also rolled some thin spaghetti-like pieces to run a line down the center of each side just to give it some more body.  I baked for 45 minutes, which I determined from the "30 minutes for each 1/4 inch of thickness" directions.  The finished product is a little bit bendable, which I don't like, but I think it will hold up for the shows as long as no one tries to use it as a baseball bat. 

The money bags were the last.

  

I found my biggest bowl and turned it upside down and traced its circumference with a piece of chalk on the fabric.  Then I drew another circle a few inches outside of that one to make it even bigger.  I cut out three of these.  

Then I folded the edges under so the seams wouldn't fray, but I didn't fold them under twice.  

Why?  

BECAUSE NO ONE WILL SEE THAT, AND IT'S NOT NECESSARY! 

See?  I'm learning...

Geez, my hands need some lotion.

Then I pinned on brown bias tape onto the WRONG side of the fabric to make a pocket for the cord to run through.  

I sewed BOTH sides of the bias tape down, then I carefully cut a hole in the fabric on the RIGHT side in a place where the bias tape would cover the hole.  Then I attached a safety pin to the 550 cord I bought for this purpose (got mine in the craft section of Wal-Mart) and then my daughter threaded it through the pocket, all the way around the circle until it came out the other side.   

 I melted the ends of the 550 cord  so they would look neat and not fray (careful - just melt it, don't set it on fire!).  Then I tied the ends together so they don't slip back into the hole.  They can pull the string tight and tie it in an overhand knot to secure.  

These are props they wanted for Friday (oh well, just a few days late).  Now I have to help my girl make some accessories for her costume.  The play is on Thursday - we have to get crackin'!

Costume Mom to the Rescue - Native American girl costume

As I have previously stated, I am the Costume Queen...  Me and my big mouth.  

My daughter's class is putting on a play in a few weeks, and she is a Native American.  She didn't really want this part because it has no lines, but she was pretty happy about the costume.  She likes to dress up, and she's also heard her mother brag on numerous occasions that she is the Queen of Costume Creation.  Of course, bragging, and doing are two totally different things.  Doing requires time, effort, and trips the fabric store.  I was happy to back up my bragging with lots of talk and even a trip to the fabric store, but then, the actually sewing had to happen, and this week was the deadline.  I've put off opening the box of my 200 dollar sewing machine after being brutally disappointed by the death of my 600+ dollar sewing machine.  Still, to make a costume, you need a machine.  

The good news is, the cheap machine works fine.  Here's how I whipped up this costume...

I had my daughter lie down on the floor on the folded fabric that was folded in half lengthwise.  With a piece of chalk, I traced a line around her body a few inches out on each side (If in doubt, make it too big - you can always sew smaller, but if it's too small, there's nothing you can do but cut again...).  The shape you see is roughly the shape I cut out.  Then put right sides together, an sew the sides, and then the shoulder seams.  If this was supposed to be a real, lasting garment, or was made of material that frayed on the edges, I'd have to turn the edges under and sew them, but luckily this fabric doesn't unravel (it's ultra suede - made to look like real suede) so I didn't need take that step, and as a friend of mine says, "THEY'RE NOT GOING TO SEE THAT FROM THE AUDIENCE!"

I then cut out strips of the lighter color fabric, and sewed it along the edges with the right sides together so that when the light color fabric makes a band at the bottom.  Then I snipped strips up the light colored band of fabric to make fringe.  She wanted two layers of fringe, so I did this twice, and I also did the same thing along the neckline.  

So the basic costume is done, and my daughter likes it.  Thank goodness!  I'm going to make a belt that ties with some suede string tomorrow, and she's going to decorate it.  Accessories really make the costume, so we'll see what we come up with as the date of the play comes closer.  I've also been asked to make some props, among them, a very large key.  

More to come...