My daughter has been visiting for the past two weeks and two days, the longest she has visited Chicago since moving to Houston a year ago. This visit has been especially nice because she and her boyfriend have spent quite a bit of time with us. We've had dinners out and dinners at home, a mother-daughter shopping trip, and LOTS of conversation. We talked about music and books and her friend from kindergarten who just got engaged. She's also gotten to see some Chicago friends and spent time with her boyfriend's family.
Then this past weekend she somehow hurt her neck and came home from visiting elsewhere in a lot of pain. On Sunday it was no better so I took her to urgent care, where we were reassured by the diagnosis of muscles in spasm -- painful, but so much better than, say, a slipped disc. She got Vicodin for the pain and zoned out for the rest of the day in bed.
It was a return to the mom duties of years past. I brought her ginger ale and saltines (the Vicodin made her nauseous). We rearranged pillows to make her comfortable. I made tasty snacks. I ran up and down the stairs fetching things. In short, I fussed over her. I did not resent one second of that time.
Then yesterday my husband drove her to a doctor appointment in Chicago (different doctor, not connected to the neck). From there she was going to visit friends in Chicago and then take the train to her boyfriend's house. I was worried about her traveling around with the painful neck and maybe being dopey from the drugs, but I just said, "Call someone if you need help." She's very capable, I knew she would be okay.
But after they left, I felt bereft. It was the feeling when each of my children had gone to college. It took me by surprise. After all, I'm going to see her before she flies back to to Houston. Following a brief, teary interval, I realized that for about two days, I had gotten to slip back into the mom role of the past. When your kiddos are little, you are the caretaker, physically responsible for your children's well-being. But eventually that role recedes and you become the advice giver, cheerleader, and companion. For those couple of days, she really needed me in a very concrete way. I even went in to check on her and gave her a good-night kiss (which she probably doesn't remember in her drug-induced haze).
So when she leave for Texas today, I will feel sad, but just the normal amount of sadness. She has her own life, with her own goals to pursue, and I'm very proud of her. And she'll be back!
Tuesday, August 16, 2016
Tuesday, August 9, 2016
Power Failure Opportunities
About five summers ago we had a major power failure in the northwest suburbs of Chicago. We were without power for days. All the things we took for granted -- refrigerator, television, computers, A/C!, lights! -- all gone for the time being. We were plunged back into some past time, but without any preparation -- no ice house in the backyard, no non-electric lighting system, not even a clothes line.
So, we grilled a lot of what was in our freezer on our charcoal grill. We got out our cooler, bought ice, and kept food cold. We could use our gas stove by lighting it manually with a match. We strategically closed or opened curtains and windows to keep the house as cool as possible.
My biggest complaint was that once it got dark, I couldn't read. Candlelight didn't make enough light for reading.
So most evenings we built a fire in our fire pit and we sat around it and talked. My husband, our two kids, and I talked more than we had in months, maybe years. Our talk was not about anything really important, we just talked about all kinds of things, including who was the better fire builder. I think we probably talked about books and movies, about friends and family members. Nobody complained about the lack of electricity, though it was definitely inconvenient. Those days really were like a vacation from normal life.
The lights came back on eventually and life returned to normal. We could wash clothes in the machine and check email. We could read at night and watch television.
We stopped sitting around the fire and talking. That is what I miss the most from those few days.
So, we grilled a lot of what was in our freezer on our charcoal grill. We got out our cooler, bought ice, and kept food cold. We could use our gas stove by lighting it manually with a match. We strategically closed or opened curtains and windows to keep the house as cool as possible.
My biggest complaint was that once it got dark, I couldn't read. Candlelight didn't make enough light for reading.
So most evenings we built a fire in our fire pit and we sat around it and talked. My husband, our two kids, and I talked more than we had in months, maybe years. Our talk was not about anything really important, we just talked about all kinds of things, including who was the better fire builder. I think we probably talked about books and movies, about friends and family members. Nobody complained about the lack of electricity, though it was definitely inconvenient. Those days really were like a vacation from normal life.
The lights came back on eventually and life returned to normal. We could wash clothes in the machine and check email. We could read at night and watch television.
We stopped sitting around the fire and talking. That is what I miss the most from those few days.
Tuesday, August 2, 2016
Remembrance of sewing skills past
When I was in junior high, all girls were required to take Homemaking while the boys took Shop. Homemaking consisted of a semester of cooking and another of sewing. And, while my own kids (decades later) got to make fun things in sewing, like boxer shorts or messenger bags, when they elected to take sewing, we all had to make the same thing -- an A-line skirt.
This was the age of Twiggy, the first supermodel, the first super-skinny celebrity model. This was the age of the mini-skirt. We 7th graders were making knee-length A-line skirts. We had to kneel on the floor to show that the pinned-up hem touched the floor before we could finish the skirt, which most of us then never wore. I don't remember what mine even looked like. I do remember my best friend accidentally cutting a whole in hers.
Fortunately for my sister and me, our maternal grandmother had been a seamstress and our mother felt the sewing was not only an essential skill, but could be fun. She took us shopping for patterns and fabric and helped both of us learn to sew clothing for ourselves.
I made many articles of clothing over the years, and when I had had children, it was so much fun to sew the tiny outfits for them, as well as Halloween costumes. (I wrote a little about that here.) But, becoming ever busier and going back to work full-time, sewing went by the wayside. This summer I went through all of my collected sewing stuff and gave away a lot of fabric. I wrote about that last week.
I ended up keeping more than I expected -- isn't that always the way it goes? I set a goal that I would finish a neglected shirt and make some progress on a quilt.
Yesterday I got out the shirt. I found that I had cut out all the pieces and applied underfacing (the material that gives collars and shirt fronts a little stiffness). I made progress, sewing the body of the shirt together and making and attaching the collar. However, I discovered that years away from sewing makes one forget how to do things. Also, I am making the shirt from the book No Time to Sew by Sandra Betzina, which turns out to be different than making something from a regular pattern. She expects that you know how to do a lot of sewing techniques, and she also sends you to other pages in the book to read how to do some things. Anyway, at this point I have the body together, but I can tell I have made at least one mistake.
I have made a lot of sewing mistakes over the years. A mistake, to me, is a crossroads -- do you rip it out and try again? or forge onward, maybe improvising a solution? I'm forging onward here. This is my reentry into sewing and it's okay if it's not perfect. This particular shirt is a Halloween shirt, so there's less pressure for perfection. It's learning time.
Here is a close-up of the fabric, which I love!
I'll post a photo of the finished shirt in the comments when I finish.
This was the age of Twiggy, the first supermodel, the first super-skinny celebrity model. This was the age of the mini-skirt. We 7th graders were making knee-length A-line skirts. We had to kneel on the floor to show that the pinned-up hem touched the floor before we could finish the skirt, which most of us then never wore. I don't remember what mine even looked like. I do remember my best friend accidentally cutting a whole in hers.
Fortunately for my sister and me, our maternal grandmother had been a seamstress and our mother felt the sewing was not only an essential skill, but could be fun. She took us shopping for patterns and fabric and helped both of us learn to sew clothing for ourselves.
I made many articles of clothing over the years, and when I had had children, it was so much fun to sew the tiny outfits for them, as well as Halloween costumes. (I wrote a little about that here.) But, becoming ever busier and going back to work full-time, sewing went by the wayside. This summer I went through all of my collected sewing stuff and gave away a lot of fabric. I wrote about that last week.
I ended up keeping more than I expected -- isn't that always the way it goes? I set a goal that I would finish a neglected shirt and make some progress on a quilt.
Yesterday I got out the shirt. I found that I had cut out all the pieces and applied underfacing (the material that gives collars and shirt fronts a little stiffness). I made progress, sewing the body of the shirt together and making and attaching the collar. However, I discovered that years away from sewing makes one forget how to do things. Also, I am making the shirt from the book No Time to Sew by Sandra Betzina, which turns out to be different than making something from a regular pattern. She expects that you know how to do a lot of sewing techniques, and she also sends you to other pages in the book to read how to do some things. Anyway, at this point I have the body together, but I can tell I have made at least one mistake.
I have made a lot of sewing mistakes over the years. A mistake, to me, is a crossroads -- do you rip it out and try again? or forge onward, maybe improvising a solution? I'm forging onward here. This is my reentry into sewing and it's okay if it's not perfect. This particular shirt is a Halloween shirt, so there's less pressure for perfection. It's learning time.
Here is a close-up of the fabric, which I love!
I'll post a photo of the finished shirt in the comments when I finish.
Tuesday, July 26, 2016
The Quiet of Less
I am always trying to declutter (even as I buy more, especially books). I have read many advice books on how to declutter, including one annoying book that began,"you need to sort and declutter your whole house before you begin my organizing method." Thanks a lot. I liked and used parts of Sink Reflections (by the Fly Lady) and The Chotchkey Challenge, but nothing made a continuing impact until I read The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up by Marie Kondo. I actually read the book when it first appeared, before it made the best seller lists and became a hot item, for both adherants and detractors. I was able to read it without the buzz that now surrounds her methods. Full disclosure, I completed my clothes and began books and then came to a stop. Books! They are in our hearts and so hard to part with.
Summer is a good time for a teacher to work on many house-related (and neglected) tasks. It's also a great time for thinking - about life, priorities, plans... One of my other hobbies is fabric crafts -- sewing clothes, quilting, and cross stitch. I have not done much with any of that for a number of years now, in spite of good intentions to finish this or that project. With the Marie Kondo philosophy in mind, I realized two things - first, my priorities have shifted. I have a teaching job that takes up lots of my energy and creativity and I have my music groups that take up a lot of my free time. Second, I have way more projects than I will realistically ever be able to accomplish.
This was very freeing! My fabric-related projects and material were scattered all over the house. When I decided to release most of them to go to new homes, I gathered then all from their corners and boxes and bags. I looked at each, and (as Marie says) I only kept those that sparked joy. I thought positively about how happy other crafters would be to get the rest. I posted my give-aways on Freecycle, and they were rapidly snatched up.
With the empty space and the removal of the burden of using the materials, a peaceful feeling came into parts of my house. Marie is right.
I know there are people who feel more comfortable and secure with a lot of stuff. They should feel free to enjoy that. There's room for all of us in the world.
Summer is a good time for a teacher to work on many house-related (and neglected) tasks. It's also a great time for thinking - about life, priorities, plans... One of my other hobbies is fabric crafts -- sewing clothes, quilting, and cross stitch. I have not done much with any of that for a number of years now, in spite of good intentions to finish this or that project. With the Marie Kondo philosophy in mind, I realized two things - first, my priorities have shifted. I have a teaching job that takes up lots of my energy and creativity and I have my music groups that take up a lot of my free time. Second, I have way more projects than I will realistically ever be able to accomplish.
This was very freeing! My fabric-related projects and material were scattered all over the house. When I decided to release most of them to go to new homes, I gathered then all from their corners and boxes and bags. I looked at each, and (as Marie says) I only kept those that sparked joy. I thought positively about how happy other crafters would be to get the rest. I posted my give-aways on Freecycle, and they were rapidly snatched up.
With the empty space and the removal of the burden of using the materials, a peaceful feeling came into parts of my house. Marie is right.
I know there are people who feel more comfortable and secure with a lot of stuff. They should feel free to enjoy that. There's room for all of us in the world.
Tuesday, July 19, 2016
Six Word Road Trip
Billowing smoke,
Car,
Dead as doornail.
I wrote this and then I wondered, what is a doornail? Why is it always dead when we use it as a simile? So I looked it up and found more interesting information than I had bargained for at The Phrase Finder, http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/as-dead-as-a-doornail.html. It means completely dead, or in the case of nonliving things, unusable. The phrase has been in use since at least 1350, and was used by both Shakespeare and Dickens:
"Look on me well: I have eat no meat these five days; yet, come thou and thy five men, and if I do not leave you all dead as a doornail, I pray God I may never eat grass more"
"Old Marley was dead as a doornail"
What is a doornail? Again according to Phrase Finder, a doornail is a "large-headed stud." They were used for strength and also for decoration. Once nailed through the door or other item, the end was bent to secure the nail in place. The dead part may have come from the idea that now the nail was unusable, or un-reusable, to be more accurate.
My six-word story above was inspired by the most recent six word contest at Six Words, which is to write about your summer road trip in six words. The backstory is my husband, son, and I drove from Chicago to Minneapolis for a family reunion and my mother's birthday. Everything was smooth sailing until we crossed the Minnesota border. The car began to lurch and then the engine shut off. Fortunately we were near an exit, and my husband maneuvered the car up the off ramp and onto the shoulder of the ramp. Then smoke began to billow from under the hood. My husband said, "Everybody out of the car!" And we exited rapidly. Afterwards he claimed this was the first time nobody argued with him.
It was after six o'clock and we were on the east side of St. Paul, while my mother lives on the west side of Minneapolis. We started searching the Internet and calling repair places, tow companies, and rental car companies. We were very lucky to find one repair shop that was not only still open, but was fairly close. They called a tow truck for us and came to fetch us. The only rental car places open after six were at the airport, so we called my brother-in-law, who cheerfully came to get us. The next day we got the news that the car needed a new engine. Since the car was 13 years old, that wasn't a good option. We ended up donating it to a school for budding car mechanics and driving back to Illinois in a rental.
The rest of our trip was great -- catching up with relatives, relaxing, eating good food.
And now this:
Flooded basement
Dead car
Unexpected opportunities
Car,
Dead as doornail.
I wrote this and then I wondered, what is a doornail? Why is it always dead when we use it as a simile? So I looked it up and found more interesting information than I had bargained for at The Phrase Finder, http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/as-dead-as-a-doornail.html. It means completely dead, or in the case of nonliving things, unusable. The phrase has been in use since at least 1350, and was used by both Shakespeare and Dickens:
"Look on me well: I have eat no meat these five days; yet, come thou and thy five men, and if I do not leave you all dead as a doornail, I pray God I may never eat grass more"
King Henry VI, Shakespeare
A Christmas Carol (of course!), Charles Dickens
My six-word story above was inspired by the most recent six word contest at Six Words, which is to write about your summer road trip in six words. The backstory is my husband, son, and I drove from Chicago to Minneapolis for a family reunion and my mother's birthday. Everything was smooth sailing until we crossed the Minnesota border. The car began to lurch and then the engine shut off. Fortunately we were near an exit, and my husband maneuvered the car up the off ramp and onto the shoulder of the ramp. Then smoke began to billow from under the hood. My husband said, "Everybody out of the car!" And we exited rapidly. Afterwards he claimed this was the first time nobody argued with him.
It was after six o'clock and we were on the east side of St. Paul, while my mother lives on the west side of Minneapolis. We started searching the Internet and calling repair places, tow companies, and rental car companies. We were very lucky to find one repair shop that was not only still open, but was fairly close. They called a tow truck for us and came to fetch us. The only rental car places open after six were at the airport, so we called my brother-in-law, who cheerfully came to get us. The next day we got the news that the car needed a new engine. Since the car was 13 years old, that wasn't a good option. We ended up donating it to a school for budding car mechanics and driving back to Illinois in a rental.
The rest of our trip was great -- catching up with relatives, relaxing, eating good food.
And now this:
Flooded basement
Dead car
Unexpected opportunities
Tuesday, July 12, 2016
First time at the farmers' market!
I love to cook and bake -- when I'm relaxed and have time! And so I also love farmers' markets. Because of several out-of-state trips, this weekend was my first visit of the year to our farmers' market.
It was a perfect day -- warm and sunny. Apparently everyone else in town also thought so, because the parking lot closest to the market was jammed. I broadened my horizons and found a spot in the parking lot on the other side, near the splash park, which was full of little children even at 10:00 in the morning.
My farmers' market strategy is to walk through the entire market and then go back and buy at my targeted stands. It's not so much shopping for the lowest price -- they're all in the same ballpark -- but what looks the best and which vegetables and fruits should I choose from all the choices. This time I had arrived with both a list and an open mind.
Happy sounds of people, dogs, and music along with fresh scents, not so much of specific items but a general fresh plant smell. I like to talk to the vendors -- nearly everyone is so friendly and eager to chat about their vegetables and fruits. And sampling is usually encouraged -- trying to decide between blueberries and raspberries, I taste-tested. Raspberries won. I was so excited to find tart cherries from Michigan! (We are within driving distance of both Wisconsin and Michigan.) Pie went onto the menu immediately.
The only laconic farmer I met was the meat guy. Not unfriendly, but certainly not interested in chatting. It was a quiet transaction. Others asked what I planned to do with the things I bought, how was I going to cook them, or had I ever tried such and such? It adds a lot to the shopping experience and I appreciate that these farmers take the time to chat, even when they're probably tired from getting up super early to get to the market.
And so, I went home, made the cherry pie, and then made a delicious vegetable stew inspired by Provence. Leeks, cauliflower, portobellos, garbanzos, carrots, celery, garlic (of course!), all cooked together with a little wine and a selection of herbs from our backyard. Served with homemade garlic aioli.
I love summer.
It was a perfect day -- warm and sunny. Apparently everyone else in town also thought so, because the parking lot closest to the market was jammed. I broadened my horizons and found a spot in the parking lot on the other side, near the splash park, which was full of little children even at 10:00 in the morning.
My farmers' market strategy is to walk through the entire market and then go back and buy at my targeted stands. It's not so much shopping for the lowest price -- they're all in the same ballpark -- but what looks the best and which vegetables and fruits should I choose from all the choices. This time I had arrived with both a list and an open mind.
Happy sounds of people, dogs, and music along with fresh scents, not so much of specific items but a general fresh plant smell. I like to talk to the vendors -- nearly everyone is so friendly and eager to chat about their vegetables and fruits. And sampling is usually encouraged -- trying to decide between blueberries and raspberries, I taste-tested. Raspberries won. I was so excited to find tart cherries from Michigan! (We are within driving distance of both Wisconsin and Michigan.) Pie went onto the menu immediately.
The only laconic farmer I met was the meat guy. Not unfriendly, but certainly not interested in chatting. It was a quiet transaction. Others asked what I planned to do with the things I bought, how was I going to cook them, or had I ever tried such and such? It adds a lot to the shopping experience and I appreciate that these farmers take the time to chat, even when they're probably tired from getting up super early to get to the market.
And so, I went home, made the cherry pie, and then made a delicious vegetable stew inspired by Provence. Leeks, cauliflower, portobellos, garbanzos, carrots, celery, garlic (of course!), all cooked together with a little wine and a selection of herbs from our backyard. Served with homemade garlic aioli.
I love summer.
Tuesday, July 5, 2016
Fountains and kids and matching outfits
We walked out of the Houston Museum of Natural Science, squinting into the sunshine. I had never been in Houston in the summer and oh my, it was hot.
As we walked towards the parking lot we passed an interesting fountain where the water flowed down over the top, like water over a dam.
"I'm sure you don't remember," I said to my daughter, "One Mother's Day when you were two, we went to the [Chicago] Botanic Gardens. It was a warm day and there was a fountain that was flush with the ground around it. A lot of kids were running in and out of the water, so you and Ben joined them. You both ended up soaking wet and extremely happy. I remember that you were wearing matching outfits that I had made for you. You had a little dress and Ben had shorts. That was a good Mother's Day."
"I remember the clothes you made for us," Jamie said. "And dressing us alike -- hmm. But that's impressive that you made our clothes."
"I didn't make all your clothes! And you had a dress and Ben had shorts - not alike except for the fabric. And I used European patterns so you had the trendy Euro fashion."
Laughing. "Euro-chic!" Jamie exclaimed. (Incidentally, she still likes European fashion.)
"I made you several dresses -- remember your Chanukah dress?"
"Yes, my teachers were really impressed." I had gotten tired of so many little Christmas dresses for sale and no Chanukah dresses, cute or otherwise, so I made one.
Looking through the photo albums, there is no photo of the matching outfits, sadly. My memory is that it was a bright fabric with cute animals on it -- either cats or hippos. It's also clear from the photo albums that my children had plenty of store-bought clothes. How did I have time to sew with two little children and going back to school? I must have had more energy, but I also realized how quickly small children's clothing went together compared to adult clothing.
I haven't touched the sewing machine in a long time except for repairs. This is one of my summer goals - to complete a sewing project and make progress on a second. My children are in their 20s now, so no more cute Euro fashions for them.
As we walked towards the parking lot we passed an interesting fountain where the water flowed down over the top, like water over a dam.
"I'm sure you don't remember," I said to my daughter, "One Mother's Day when you were two, we went to the [Chicago] Botanic Gardens. It was a warm day and there was a fountain that was flush with the ground around it. A lot of kids were running in and out of the water, so you and Ben joined them. You both ended up soaking wet and extremely happy. I remember that you were wearing matching outfits that I had made for you. You had a little dress and Ben had shorts. That was a good Mother's Day."
"I remember the clothes you made for us," Jamie said. "And dressing us alike -- hmm. But that's impressive that you made our clothes."
"I didn't make all your clothes! And you had a dress and Ben had shorts - not alike except for the fabric. And I used European patterns so you had the trendy Euro fashion."
Laughing. "Euro-chic!" Jamie exclaimed. (Incidentally, she still likes European fashion.)
"I made you several dresses -- remember your Chanukah dress?"
"Yes, my teachers were really impressed." I had gotten tired of so many little Christmas dresses for sale and no Chanukah dresses, cute or otherwise, so I made one.
Looking through the photo albums, there is no photo of the matching outfits, sadly. My memory is that it was a bright fabric with cute animals on it -- either cats or hippos. It's also clear from the photo albums that my children had plenty of store-bought clothes. How did I have time to sew with two little children and going back to school? I must have had more energy, but I also realized how quickly small children's clothing went together compared to adult clothing.
I haven't touched the sewing machine in a long time except for repairs. This is one of my summer goals - to complete a sewing project and make progress on a second. My children are in their 20s now, so no more cute Euro fashions for them.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)