Category: All (-ish)

Postcards from Netherlands and Texas


Hans writes from Utrecht that “I love our Royal House.”  He also told me that they got a new king and queen this year, which I knew because of an earlier postcard from the Netherlands and because I read it in the paper.  I would be excited about a new king (or queen) too!

Preston writes from Canyon, which is apparently a small city in the Texas Panhandle.  He tells me that Canyon is where West Texas A&M University is.   I’m also interested in Preston’s card because he sent it with a 33-cent stamp.  It occurs to me that it has been a few years since 33-cents paid for a first-class letter.  I remember the stamps he sent, though.  It was the series of early US flags.

It’s been a dry month for Postcrossing postcards.  I’m glad these two came in the mail.

Cold

Like I mentioned in the killing frost post, it’s been cold here.  And it doesn’t really get this cold here.  But temperatures insist on hovering in the 20s.  Here’s the thing about unseasonably (I should be using a word that means weather-not-in-the-normal-temperature-range.  Is there such a word?) cold weather.  We don’t have the proper wardrobe.  Pants are the big problem.  Normally, in Portland, I just wear the same kind of pants year round.  They serve me through the “heat” of summer and the “cold” of winter.  I’ve lived in places where it really does get cold and let me tell you, I had a separate part of my closet for winter pants.  But here it doesn’t make sense to do so.  The result is that I walk around with very cold legs until things return to normal.

But look!
 

Winter weather is also quite pretty!
 

Laurel dress. Cutting of fabric.

I love that I can sqeeze both front and back on one fold of this material.
 
I also love my new Bluetooth speaker I bought at Fred Meyer.  Much easier to listen to podcasts while I work.
 
Sleeves.
 
And I have this much left.  What to do, what to do?  Don’t worry, I already have a plan.
 
Waiting to be sewn.
 

Cooking Tales


Here are five pounds of home-grown potatoes, ready to be made into mashed potatoes for the holiday.


How is it that the vegan ended up seemingly the only full-time employee of the FoodDay staff?


I am bringing ingredients for cheese bread over to Kelly’s tonight.  I decided to specially make Sandwich Bread.  Two hours into the rise I realized the bread wasn’t rising because I forgot to put in the yeast.  Blast!  I ended up buying some sourdough.

Shrug and a return to the Laurel Uniform Project.

It’s getting really cold and I need to finish this shrug.  So here I go.  Look how much I took off the sleeves!  That would be the line sewn into the sleeve area.  Then I trimmed and bound.
 
Attaching binding on the edge of the sleeve.
 
And to the inside.  Matt’s out of town and I wasn’t in the mood for a self-capturing of the final product, so an official picture will come later.
 
And here we have a muslin of the Laurel Dress.
 
And here I am wearing it.  It’s too loose in the front, but guess what?  I’m going to sew it that way anyway.
 
The back looks good, but could be taken in a bit across the seat.  But guess what?  It’s getting sewn this way.

I’m ready to be done with the uniform project. Which isn’t really the best way to sew, but there you have it.

Postcard from Ukraine

This is from Sofia who has the hobbies of photography, painting and listening to rock music.  She reports that “I also listen to such world-famous groups as Scropions, the Beatles, AC/DC, Metallica and others.”

Also, this painting is a Ukrainian National Pattern.  Man, we don’t have any national patterns here in the US!

It arrived bearing some great stamps.
 

Big Trimet day.

Wanna come along?  Well, you missed the first part, because I didn’t think to take pictures.  Imagine the Lombard Transit center, where I picked up the #4 and rode it over to Vancouver street.  There, I disembarked and went to the Dishman Community Center to swim.  Finished there, I walked to MLK to grab the #6.  Here we can switch to photos.

Across the street from this stop for the #6, are two houses, both alike in dignity/ in fair Portland where we lay our scene.  They are also apparently owned by the same person, who painted them the same color.
 

Where I came from:  Dishman.
 
I disembarked at Burnside and MLK to switch to the #20.  I probably had enough time to walk up to the theater, but was hungry, and wanted to leave time for a lunch more substantial than popcorn.  While at this stop the gentleman waiting with me asked me what I took the picture of.  When I explained it was for my blog he asked, “Who reads it?”  I told him that friends did and his reply was “Oh” and he ceased talking to me.  This amused me.  I guess I wasn’t a famous enough blogger for him.
 
I went with Tapalaya for food and had a very good pulled pork sandwich with two sides:  collards with bacon and a black-eye pea salad.
 
My movie destination was right around the corner.
 
Waiting for the #20 again.  This was my longest wait of 20 minutes.  O! Sunday schedule, why must you thwart me!  Happily, my time was taken up by watching a disaffected youth cross Burnside, forcing cars to stop for him while he flipped them off.  He then stood behind a pole that was part of the building across the street and in short order a police cruiser pulled up, parked and talked with him then searched. him.  A second cruiser arrived to help with the search and a third cruiser showed up, searched him again and then took him away.  He didn’t seem to be opposed to the idea and I wondered what story I missed there.  Of note:  the first police officer was a man, but the other two were women.
 
The #20 deposited me a block from my work, where I ran a quick errand.
 
Then walked to the Yellow Line and had to wait another 10 minutes.

From the Yellow Line, I disembarked and walked the final four blocks to my home.  Thanks Trimet for ferrying me around.

Requiem: shirt and skirt

You wouldn’t know it by looking at me, but I have a great affinity for clothing.  Sometimes  I look at J.K. Rowling–she of the vast wealth–and think, “Were I suddenly to find myself in a position to not think about money, I would most likely look as good as she does.”  Not that it’s that easy, of course, but the money does help.  I could have a good hairdresser that didn’t just disappear, I could schedule Pilates sessions with Deanne, I could have someone else do the cooking, and I could hire someone to find me incredibly beautiful clothing that looked great on me.  Don’t get me wrong, I think I do okay clothes-wise, but my wardrobe is quite minimal and largely consists of second-hand goods, because that’s what the budget provides.

Which brings me to this shirt.  I found it in a consignment store (the spendy one I don’t go to anymore, partially because we’ve moved and it’s not in my normal trajectory of things and partially because the prices are a bit high) and loved it, both for the designer name and for the colors and the fit.  Alas, the fit is no good anymore so it needs to move on to brighten someone else’s day.  The material feels great.  Quality material makes such a difference.
 

I’ve rarely been the kind of girl that guys notice and comment on.  This is okay by me, as I place the random guy commenting on the random girl in the category of I have named: sexist things we are hopefully moving beyond as we slowly but steadily progress to a gender-neutral society. (A girl can dream.)  I can report that guys adored this skirt.  I have never had so many random comments (“nice skirt!”) as when I was wearing this.  It was bizarre, as it seemed to be no different than any other skirt I owned, none of which invited comment.  I told a friend of this strange phenomena and once she found herself walking behind me she understood and explained.  Apparently the two separate layers shift with the normal walking motion and make a rather mesmerizing spectacle.  Ah.

Good to know.  And since it doesn’t fit me anymore, someone else can enjoy the ogling.