summer sewing and not cooking

P1070288I got a sheet set that came in a little fabric bag.  Cut the bag up.  And a duvet cover that came with shams–yeah, right, like we use shams, cut those up.  Made a wee bedding set for a little girl I know.  (Clementine box doll bed.  It’s gotta be a clementine box bed.)  This little girl is just the most adorable thing ever.  She has three older brothers who are all really boyish boys.  They’re always in their tree house or digging up sassafras roots to make actual homemade soda (they collect antique bottles and let things ferment and they have some gadget that crimps the bottle caps on–it’s crazy; they’re the real deal), and then their tiny sister is there with her dainty Mary Jane shoes and her baby dolls and her baby doll “car seats” (little wicker baskets)–which her mama actually buckles into their vehicle.   I can’t wait to give it to her!!!

Working on my daughter’s quilt.

P1070291My pattern is: looking at a Pinterest picture on my phone every two minutes.  Needless to say, I really have no idea what I’m doing, and I’m confusing myself.

I finally finished a little lap quilt.  It’s not a quilt, technically, just a blanket.  Front and back.  I’m thinking it will be nice for an ever so slightly chilly fall afternoon on the back porch.

P1070296People have been giving me produce.  See how nice it looks on my counter?

P1070293Will I do anything with it, though? Ah, that’s the question.

I’m such a horrid cook.  Wish I could just toss stuff in a pan and saute it to perfection.  Add a liddabit of dis, a liddabit of dat, and…poof!  Food for the people!

But no.  I’m all looking on the Internet, trying to find a recipe, getting discouraged when I have everything but the marjoram, looking for another recipe, altering a recipe, cooking some ghastly concoction, burning the food, starting a fire, turning off the smoke detectors, answering the door cause my neighbors have come over to see if we’re OK because they heard the smoke detectors, crying a little bit, scrubbing my stove, having to take another shower to get the smell off, going to bed late and exhausted…

In the end, it’s just so much easier to take a picture of the vegetables, and then go sew something.

Do you know what I mean?  Does anybody…know? what I mean?

Probably not.  Probably just me.

not much really, but Belle

This is great.

correlation_causation_womens_vneck_tshirt{via here}

And here’s a nice little bit about junk science.

Junk science ticks me off.  Like really badly.  Shrink my brain.  Why would that tick me off but not, like, road rage?

Or maybe McDonaldization.  Irrationality of rationality.  When people turn away from their first love and forget whom they’re serving in the first place.  It’s insane.  It’s everywhere.  It’s life, I guess.

Ooo! I’m really hoping to see Belle this weekend!  A period piece! That’s PG! With great ratings!!

When’s the last time that happened?  Long time ago, right?

there now that’s better

P1070274

I just wanted some flowers to be inside so I picked all the things, even the things that aren’t supposed to come in.

A few big fat bumblebees are hovering around my hollyhocks.  The bees are so covered in pollen that they look like sloppy toddlers who’ve just eaten too many powdered donuts.

I walked with my friend today.  Walking in East Tennessee in June is exactly the same as sitting in a sauna.  It’s no wonder so many people don’t exercise here, because it doesn’t really feel like safe exercise. There’s no wicking.  One’s internal temperature just builds; the sweat streams down in rivulets.  It’s almost as if…as if… one is melting, instead of moving.

There are turtles everywhere here now.

Box turtles–I pass them all along the way.  When we walk at night our dogs give them a quick sniff and a happy little tail wag.

Snapping turtles–Last week I had to stop as a car was in the middle of the road, it’s driver walking around in front of the car trying to corral a snapping turtle.  The turtle did not like the man.  The man nearly got snapped.  I think he might’ve been interested in killing the turtle and taking it home to eat (people do that here; people eat everything here), but he got bashful when he saw me and let it go.  I felt like saying, “I don’t care! You can eat that turtle!”

When I was little I’d catch little painted turtles at a pond near here.  They were the size of half dollars.  So, so, so cute.  I would sit in the shade with my Dalmatian, who had social anxiety just like me, and I’d sort of line my turtles up in order of ascending size.  The two biggest were, of course, the mom and dad, then there’d be some teenagers and little kids and always a baby.  I’d kiss the baby.  My mom would’ve probably not been super happy about me kissing turtles.  I also had an animal graveyard for animal corpses I would find.  I did little funerals for them.  Sometimes I’d cry.  But I don’t think I was absolutely, legitimately sad; I’d just sort of make myself cry because I liked the idea of being sad.  Also I shared suckers with my Dalmatian.  I’d take a few licks, then let her, and so on until it was done.

Good times.  Good, good times.

something to paint, something to sew

P1070268Finally.  Seriously.  I think I began this quilt in…January?  I’m never free-motion quilting a queen-size quilt again.  It’s just too much wrestling that through the harp on my machine.

I need a bed skirt, huh?  But I can’t have a bed skirt because when I have a bed skirt on my bed my dogs suddenly want to go under it.  They rarely want to go under my bed, except when they hear thunder, gunshots (no, we don’t, fortunately, live near gangs–people hunt back in the woods behind our house), or fireworks.  But when I put a bed skirt on my bed, my dogs want to go under the bed like 100 times a day.  In and out, in and out, and I forget to close my bedroom door, so they go under the skirt, then they wedge themselves far under there where I cannot reach them.  So then my bed skirt (Hey! Wake up! No nodding off here!) becomes hairy and filthy, and it’s like, What’s that hairy filthy fabric doing round the bottom of your bed?

You may see a pattern/theme emerging from this blog, which is: Shannon has very poor boundaries concerning her animals.

Shannon has very poor boundaries, period.

Hi.  I’m Shannon.  I don’t know why I’ve reverted to the third person.

Anyhow, the next quilt I want to make is one that looks like this blanket:

quiltIwanttomakeThe link is from Pinterest, but I can’t pull up the actual original page.

I went to Lowe’s and found colors.

P1070271My daughter wants her room that Beach Glass color, so I guess we’re going to do that soon, and I’ll start trying to make a quilt that looks similar to that.

That’s the plan, at least.

Always something to paint, always something to sew.

That’s how I like it. 🙂

wasted years, cockatoos, and Angelina Jolie

Saw this at a cute little store o’ curiosities the other day and there was no way it wasn’t coming home with me.

P1070262All these years.  All these years I’ve been going to thrift stores and not once have I considered buying an old kettle in which to plant a succulent.  Oh the tragedy!!

I love little hens and chicks like that, don’t you?  They’re so exquisite.  Look at all that this website has.

New thought now.

I was thinking yesterday about a few things.  One is that I’d like a bird.  A cockatoo.  I’d get it from Parrot Mountain when it was a baby.  I’d go visit it when it was still in the nursery and be so happy that people from all over the world were petting it and talking to it and making it happy.  Then it would come home.  It would sit on my shoulder all day long.  I would rock it and scratch it’s tummy.  It could make all the messes it wanted, and I wouldn’t care.  I would just sweep it up every day before bed.  We would be such good friends.  I’d put several names into a hat–names like Sylvester or Amos or Bryn or Hoyt or Patrice or Ophelia or Honorine–and then tell the cockatoo that he/she could pick out his/her own name; just bob in there and pick one with its beak.  If it picked one that wasn’t my favorite I’d say, “Pick again.”  I would knit it stuff.  Seriously, I would.  Ravlery would have a new “knitted bird apparel” category because of me.   I’d make sure we allowed for a home for it in our will, as it would surely outlive me.

But I can’t do any of that because my cat would kill the cockatoo and dismember it within hours of it arriving home.

And the other thing I was thinking was that I used to think Angelina Jolie was kind of a mess, but now everything I read about her seems to suggest she’s not a mess at all.  I read once that most people come to a crossroads in their life in which they have to choose whether to continue on a path of Success, or change to a focus on Significance.  I’m pretty sure she went with Significance.  And that’s ace, I think.

I’ll bet Angelina has a bird.