And then she disappeared...

I have five days to get together my stock for the Farmers' Market, while at the same time packing my house and doing general last-minute-house stuff. I'm going to keep quiet between now and next week, but I'll post a few photos of my progress. Okay? Okay!

Packin' to leave

One week from today we'll be moving into our new place. Right now, though, we're just hanging out and playing with boxes.
Come on. If you had a baby and a box and a camera, you would do the very same thing. The fact that it's a wine box just makes it more awesome.
Look at this kid. She used to be the same size as that one in the box. What happened?

What I could be doing

Furious B is at school, Baby Bear is asleep, and Hubby C is at work.

I could be washing the three days' worth of dishes that are sitting on the counter, I could be doing more laundry, I could be scrubbing every filthy surface of the bathroom (it looks as though our place is inhabited by frat boys), I could be taking cuttings from the back yard to transplant at the new house, I could be getting things together for the Farmers' Market yard sale, I could be washing my hair, I could be putting away winter coats, I could be cleaning out the fridge, I could be getting groceries, I could be sewing or cutting or pinning, I could be packing, I could be working on my manuscript.

But I'm not doing any of those things, because Sew, Mama Sew! is hosting a big ol' giveaway day. SMS is a great blog any day of the week, and I refer to it all the time. But from today until Sunday night they've got a ton of different blogs offering giveaways of craft supplies and handmade goodies. I've found so many new, wonderful blogs that I don't know what to do. Can I just drop out of the world and read craft blogs all day? Please?

I think I'll post a little round-up of some of my new favourtite reads later on, when I've had a chance to peruse a bit more. Right now I have to go and do stuff. Stuff not involving the chance at a free handmade tote bag/apron/stuffed animal/coffee cozy/what have you.

Everybody's doin' it

Hard economic times seem to be bringing out the DIY spirit in us all, including the editors of Real Simple (the magazine to which I turn, in times of chaos, that I may be soothed by its minimalist layout, its gloriously matte paper stock, and its pretty pictures of uncluttered desks and unnaturally tidy drawers). This nifty little spread on reworking your wardrobe into usable pieces fits right in with the whole ethos of refashion, except that a) they're starting with $300 and $400 garments, and b) they're instructing readers to take their expensive but unloved articles of clothing to a professional tailor. "Do not, we repeat, do not hand over your clothing to any old scissor-weilding stranger and ask him to work his magic." The little spools beneath the descriptions stand for how much each of these refits is going to cost you (in US dollars, based on the price of a reputable tailor in New York); one spool is under $45, two is $45-$80, three is $80-$150.

Not that I want to run tailors out of business, but most of these refits are pretty simple. Cutting the bodice off a sundress and putting in an elastic waist takes about 40 minutes and about 75 cents worth of supplies. If the skirt needs a zipper, that's maybe an extra 30 minutes and a dollar fifty. There are about five hundred awesome tutorials on the internet for these sorts of things if you can't figure them out on your own.

When the next round of Wardrobe Refashion starts, I'm signing up for a six-month stint. I might as well sign up as a lifer, but let's start (relatively) small. For now I think I might do one of these cutie-cute cardigan alterations:
I know it's almost June, but it's always cardigan weather on the Avalon. I think this might be the perfect summer sweater. And I'm pretty sure I can manage it, start to finish, for a whole lot less than $45!

Me, blogged about

I have Google Alerts set up so that I get a little message every time my name appears on a website anywhere. Mostly it's because I like to keep track of how my Food Nerd columns get picked up around the world (I've seen them liked on Polish and Japanese sites - how cool!). Andreae Prozesky is an unusual enough name that when an alert comes in I can usually tell from a couple lines that it's something I've written, or that it's something containing references to two different people, whose last names are Andreae and Prozesky (Andreae is usually a last name... at least, it is in Germany).

Today, though, I got an alert for a web entry that actually involves me, but that was not written by me. It's a recipe that I gave a friend years and years ago, when I was teaching her to cook in her little one-bedroom apartment in Montreal, appreciated and posted by a friend of a friend of hers. I'm so completely flattered. It's a beautiful site and I can't wait to read more of it. I feel kind of famous now. And the site's author spelled my name right, without even knowing me! I have family members who don't even spell my name right. I'm totally blushing.

Day of great finds

The St. Bon's flea market yesterday was a bit of a bust, but right next to the school there was a fantastic yard sale. I found the aforementioned beautiful round-bottomed wok set for Hubby C, some old road maps, and a bunch of cutie-cute fabric.
These are all cotton blends: the one in back is about two yards of knit jersey, the rest are woven, and there's about a yard each of the gingham and the light floral, maybe a half yard of the blue print in front.
This embroidery cotton looks a bit Easter pastel-ish all together, but I love the shades on their own. The green especially. They're sitting on about 3 yards of black linen-cotton blend that I picked up as well. It's quite heavy, and I'm thinking of using it for a new tote/diaper bag to replace the awful yuppie one I bought. (I have no idea what possessed me to do that, as it is not at all my style, and not at all useful for someone wearing a baby. Plus it's enormous. I must have been on some heavy hormones to have picked out that monstrosity.)

Then in the evening, one of our neighbours up the path dropped off some things that a fellow freecycler had left there for me by mistake, including a sweet wicker sewing basket. The freecycler had mentioned that there were some patterns inside; I figured I would use those for wrapping paper, or pass them on, or whatever. But they're great patterns, ones I would actually use, and they're in my size. What are the chances?
Check out the little white skirt with the pockets! I love it! And the wraparound top on the right? Perfect for those of who are perpetually breastfeeding. Who would have guessed?

And look at this gem! This was the only vintage pattern in the bunch, and it's for maternity clothes. And it's from 1977 - the year I was born. Cool or what? I love the kicky chambray trousers there on the far right. I'm not so keen on the frilly yoke look, but, you know, it was 1977. I'm so totally going to rock this pattern next time I'm pregnant.

By the way, the complete list of veggies I got from S2S is: spinach, green komatsuna, red Russian kale, tai sai (bok choy), mixed baby salad greens (mizuna, red mustard, arugula, baby spinach & lettuce leaves), Egyptian onions, hakurai turnips, one head of Jericho romaine lettuce, and one tatsoi. Oh my sweat heavens. Last night we made a vegetable stir-fry of bok choy, tatsoi, Egyptian onions, and turnip tops in a ginger-chile sauce, with black bean chicken and cashews (courtesy of Hubby C's new wok). Tonight we had pasta with garlic, kale, spinach, chickpeas, tomatoes, bacon and feta. Uh, yum. And a rhubarb crisp, made from backyard rhubarb heaved over the fence by one of my neighbours (thanks!). With locally-made vanilla ice cream. It wasn't my fault: I had to do it, because Angry Chicken said so. Who am I to argue with Angry Chicken?
I used oat flour and rolled oats for the topping, and added some almonds. I think it may actually have been the best crisp I've ever made. Perhaps that's because the butter was soft? I have no idea, but holy kermoly was it ever awesome. I'm having more for breakfast. Fruit plus oats plus nuts equals healthy breakfast, right?

Green

The greenhouses at the farm are amazing. St. John's readers: the Seed to Spoon Collective still has farm shares available for the coming season. I took home a bag of veggies today, and if this early bundle is any indication, membership is going to be a worthwhile investment. I ate a piece of turnip right out of the ground, and it was as crisp and smooth and sweet as an apple. I got the grand tour of the bursting greenhouses, the still-quiet fields, the musky "tomato sanctuary." The season doesn't officially start until June, but with this year's extra warm spring, members who have already joined up are getting surprise pack of glorious greens: salad mix, tatsoi, kale, lettuce, and a load more. They're sending me a proper list later - there are lots of "miscellaneous Asian greens" in there, and of course I can't remember which is which. I can tell you, though, that we had a brilliant stir-fry tonight, inspired by the serendipitous meeting of fresh greens and a new yard-sale wok.

The last time I set foot on the Liens' farm was the night of my high school grad. It's even cooler in the daylight. A little farm carved into what seems like ancient forest. Ancient in the east-coast way. Trees that may be three hundred old are still thin enough to grab around with your two hands. As soon as you walk beyond the limits of the fields, you're into the woods, with lichen and moss and ferns all around you. Furious B was a fairy princess, naturally. It's that kind of place.

It was so nice to get out of town for a couple hours - even though we didn't get the car back to my mom (um, yeah, we borrow cars) until way late and I still feel really bad about it. Hubby C and I figure we're probably going to need a vehicle of our own real soon. And it's going to have to be big. If we have one more youngster we'll never be able to get a lift with anyone ever again. And although you can certainly get by with children and no car, it would be really nice not to have to re-install the car seat every time we go somewhere. We can probably afford an old clunker of a van, but we still have to get over the major hurdle: the fact that I don't have the slightest clue how to drive. Yup. I feel kind of like that turkey there in the picture. Gobble gobble.

Oh so beautiful Japanese fabric

The Crafty Crow is hosting a giveaway of gorgeous Japanese fabric from This and That from Japan. While I'm not generally the covetous type, I do obsess over Japanese cotton prints.
This one evokes old National Film Board film memories for me. Anyone else?

I probably won't win the fabric giveaway, but I'm hoping to score some exciting goods at the St. Bon's flea market tomorrow morning. Fingers crossed for interesting fabric finds.

Happy International Biodiversity Day

It's another large day here. Furious B has the day off school, so we're going to amble downtown as soon as Baby Bear wakes up from his nap. One of B's best friends is having a birthday party on Sunday, so we'll be picking up a present, and maybe grabbing something cool to drink. It's definitely an iced coffee kind of day.

Tomorrow we're going to head out to the Lien Family Farm in beautiful Portugal Cove. It's now being farmed by a group called the Seed to Spoon Collective. The Liens have been doing organic farm shares and baskets for years now, but last year they decided to take a year off to do some soil repair and such. S2S will be working the farm this year, doing weekly and fortnightly baskets, and I'm going to be eating fresh, local, organic veggies all summer long! Organic farm shares may be pretty commonplace in other parts of the world, but in our area there are only a handful of farmers, and just a few of those grow organically. The demand is much higher than the supply. This has actually been one of the stumbling blocks for the St. John's Farmers' Market; most of the organic vegetables grown locally are spoken for before they're even out of the ground, so there's very little left over to distribute commercially.

I'm so excited to get my vegetables! This will be a real challenge for me, as I'm determined not to let any of it go to waste. My preserving skills may be put to the test as the season progresses and the vegetable array moves beyond greens and edible flowers. When I've had farm shares before, I've often ended up having to throw out a heartbreaking amount of good food. But that was years ago, before I started canning everything I could, and freezing everything else. I have a feeling this year will be very different.

I only found out a couple days ago that this is International Biodiversity Day. I've been extra conscious of biodiversity since reading The Gardener's Manifesto last year. Now every time I see a perfectly weed-less lawn I want to throw clover seed all over it. Lawn sprinklers make me insane. There are innumerable beautiful plants that will grow happily without ever needing to be sprayed, watered, or mowed. I will never understand why people will go to such great personal inconvenience, endangering their own health and the health of the manufacturers and distributors of gardening chemicals, poisoning the planet and all the people and animals on it, using up precious water and electricity, and making a racket with their rumbling lawn mowers, just to create a rectangle of monoculture grass. I'm not down with monoculture as it is, but if you're going to have a monoculture you might at least plant something useful, no? Obsessive lawn fixation is one of the most perverse aspects of life in North America.

I'm all for having a clear space to sit and lounge and play and loll about and have barbecues, but it doesn't have to come at such a cost. Clover is a perfect ground cover, and it needs no attention at all (and the flowers attract necessary bees). Same for buttercups. And of course, there's my old friend, locally known as the "piss-a-bed." Ah, dandelion, how I admire thee!
Look at this cheerful guy! How can anyone not like a flower as happy this?

A couple years ago I wrote my food column on making dandelion flower fritters. They were delicious. The day I made them was the first time Furious B and Hubby C hung out together without me. I sent them off to pick dandelions in front of the Basilica, and they both came back alive. Better than alive: they had had a great time. We cooked the fritters and ate them with ice cream and honey. It was a sweet treat for sweet people, quickly becoming a sweet little family.

Mayo (making) clinic

This week's issue of The Scope is all comics. I haven't had a chance to pick up the paper copy yet, but the online version looks great. I'll admit that I grumbled a little at the thought of converting my very wordy Food Nerd column into a succinct comic-book-style piece, but it worked out beautifully.

I chose mayonnaise-making as the topic for the column after a reader took umbrage at my calling Hellmann's mayonnaise "glop in a jar." To be fair, I was also calling Miracle Whip (which I love) glop in a jar. Because, come on, any mayonnaise-type spread that can last for months in the back of your fridge isn't the real thing. Real mayonnaise is fleeting and ephemeral, edible for only a matter of days before that raw egg yolk turns on you.

The tutorial comic is here if you want to have a look. Rachel's photos are gorgeous. And here's an overhead shot of me in my very messy kitchen. Look how filthy that window is! Yeah... housekeeping... not my strength.

Photo by Rachel Jean Harding

I should tell you that this isn't the first time Rachel Harding and I have collaborated for The Scope. A few years ago we did a couple videos. The first one is a modern holiday classic, wherein I distribute fruitcake to local luminaries, and the second is the result of a running joke between myself and pal Chris Picco about one-night-stand breakfast. Although the video may suggest some kind of questionable business between myself and Picco, I assure you that this was purely for the sake of comedy, and that nothing of the sort went on. These were shot in the weird little kitchen in my old apartment. Not my colour choice, this cinnamon tone.

Things I'll miss about the Enchanted Cottage

The first time I set foot in the Enchanted Cottage, Hubby C and I had only been seeing each other for the shortest little while. I had called in sick to work so that he could take me out for a driving lesson, and when we stopped back here to drop off the car before heading to the pub, he invited me inside. From the moment I laid eyes on the birdhouse-looking mailbox at the top of the lane, I knew I would live here.

About a month later he asked me to move in, and I said yes. I didn't even have to think about it.

It's a great little house, completely hidden by a giant duplex, flanked by maple and dogberry trees. It has great huge windows, and a viciously thorned ancient white rose bush that inebriates bees all summer long. It figures in a novel that I read and loved years ago while living in Montreal and suffering from seemingly terminal homesickness, before I had ever met Hubby C, before I had ever thought of moving back. Word has it that the couple who lived here before our landlady bought it raised six children here.

Those youngsters must not have had more than the clothes on their backs and a pair of shoes apiece, because the place is small. With one kid I found it cluttered; with two I've deemed it unliveable. I never thought of myself as someone who needs great amounts of space, but I am. I need a dining room that can fit more than just the immediate family, bedrooms where kids can play with a friend or two rather than having to inhabit the living room, and a place where I can set up a sewing machine rather than hauling it from the dining room to the office and back again. And a bathroom with cabinets.

Our new house has all these things. It's perfect for us. But that doesn't mean that I won't miss this place, our honeymoon house, our cozy nest where Baby Bear was born, the house where Furious B has celebrated her last two birthdays (she barely remembers our old apartment). I'm going to miss:

the world's most amazing farm-themed bathroom wallpaper in the warm evening light,

the best office window ever, especially when you don't actually want to get any work done,

the beautiful hardwood floorboards that Hubby C painstakingly uncovered last summer while I was pregnant and no help at all,

and the trusty gas stove. I'm spoiled now, and dread going back to electric, even if it's only temporary.

But enough of what I'll miss. We're buying a house! Now, just to pack and move all our belongings while building up a stock of things for the farmer's market and finishing off my poetry manuscript. No problem, right?

Gah! Cruise ship!

I love the view of the harbour from our place, but sometimes, under the cover of darkness, giant cruise ships sneak into town, and then I wake up and catch sight of them out of the corner of my eye and am startled enough to shout "Gah!" Like this morning.

This isn't one of the super big ones, either. But just look at that thing! It's like a floating hotel. A floating hotel full of germs.
It's still a pretty good view, though.

I love this city. Especially when the morning news report includes a note to drivers that a moose has been spotted traipsing through big-box shopping land. That's just so cool.

Seedlings

We're very lucky to have a shop over the road that sells locally roasted fair trade coffee beans by the pound. We go through a lot of coffee. So we're left with lots of heavy plastic vacuum-pack bags. I've been trying to think of a good use for them, but nothing's really been coming to mind. Until yesterday, when I realized that they would make perfect seedling pots.

Furious B's kindergarten class gave all the moms little sprouted sunflowers in wee tiny terra-cotta pots for Mother's Day this year. About the most adorable thing ever, the line of beaming five-year-olds holding their tissue-wrapped gifts in their little palms. B told me, in great detail, how she decorated hers by putting dots of paint all over and then crumpling a wet-wipe around it. I don't often endorse the use of wet-wipes (what ever happened to washcloths and soap?), but in this case the effect was well worth it (as was Miss B's great pride).

By this weekend my two little sunflower sprouts were trying to escape the pot, ready to go into the ground. But with the move coming up (if all goes well), I don't want to plant anything right now. I needed some temporary homes for the plants, and the coffee bags worked perfectly. I cut them down a bit, folded the tops over, and poked a few holes in the bottom with a bamboo skewer.

I had the best helper.

So much more room to breathe!

The coffee bags are really sturdy and stand up fine on their own. For now they're sitting side by side in a bread pan on my windowsill, looking happy indeed. Now I just have to decide what sort of special things will go in my beautiful hand-painted flower pot.

Emergency t-shirt mash-up

I have to go an awards ceremony this evening, which is nice, but it occurred to me as I was going to sleep last night that I don't have a thing to wear. It's not a super fancy event, but there will be wine and nibblies, and sometimes a girl just wants to look good. You know?

I have a few nice going-out dresses, but being still a little, shall we say, post-natal around the belly, there's not much that fits me at the moment. I have got to stop having children in the fall: the combined effects of a slow metabolism, many months of being stuck indoors, and the relentless parade of delicious holiday treats have done nothing to help get that baby gut under control. Ahem.

So this morning I grabbed a couple shirts I had picked up at Frenchy's last week. The blue one is actually a gorgeous dark teal, and the brown one is a little darker than it looks in the photo, too. They're both really soft and drapey.

I didn't take any process photos because I didn't have any idea what I was doing, but here's how it went down:

1. I cut the sleeves and the neck off the brown shirt to make kind of a trapezoid shape, then flipped it over so that the hem of shirt became the waist of a skirt.
2. I cut the sleeves off the teal shirt, and cut triangles out of them to sew into the arm-spaces of the brown shirt, creating a kind of kicky fishtail-ish effect (well, sort of).
3. I cut the cowl neck off the teal shirt and used that to make a fold-down yoga-type waist for the brown skirt.
4. I turned the remainder of the teal shirt - now a tank-top - backwards and trimmed the neck to make a boat neck effect (with a scoopy back). I put some darts in around the armholes for shaping.
   
5. I didn't bother with any hemming or proper seam finishing, because raw edges and visible seams are cool, right? Right?

It's a bit wonky, and it probably won't last more than a few washings, but it will get me through the night. Considering that I used the wrong kind of needle and the wrong kind of thread, and that I cut it on the floor of the hallway, it looks pretty decent.
Comfortable? Check. Cheap? Check. I kept it as a two-piece partly out of laziness but also partly for ease of breastfeeding (Baby Bear is coming, too). So that's one more check. And I can guarantee that nobody else there will be wearing the same thing.

It looks good with rubber boots, too.

And, serendipitously, it matches beautifully with the splendid Lusterbunny pendant Hubby C bought for me yesterday. It's so pretty and simple and clever.


There: a bit of glamour for a couple of old t-shirts.

Uh-oh

Now I remember why I had to cut myself off from eBay.

I went in looking for some fabric, and somehow ended up buying 68 packages of vintage bias tape.

I've never even used bias tape before. But I watched Amy Karol's tutorial a little while ago, and I got all inspired.

Tell me this doesn't make you want to come to my house and sew bias tape all over everything:



Seriously. If you want to come to my house and sew bias tape on to stuff, let me know. 'Cause I've got extra.

Sleepy princess

Furious B hasn't slept well lately. Grumpy days, late nights. But her sense of style hasn't suffered.

Finds

Sorry I missed a day there, folks: Baby Bear and I are sharing some kind of rotten cold. Most unpleasant. Well, he doesn't seem to mind all that much, but I'm pretty miserable.

Another glorious, sunny day today - a large day, as people say here. I spent yesterday morning being photographed for an upcoming issue of The Scope. Rachel Harding took the photos, and she got some excellent shots, but unfortunately I chose a slightly, ah, revealing shirt to wear. Many of the overhead shots have been axed due to inappropriate boob content. Oh, well.

I was able to wash and line-dry the linens I picked up at the thrift shop. It wasn't the most successful trip ever, but I got a few nice things. Sorry about the funny light in the photos, but the goods were still wet and wrinkly, the wind was up, and it was really, really bright out.

This is not only a crazy vintage pillowcase, it's a crazy hand-sewn vintage pillowcase. Sewn without measuring, apparently.

This, on the other hand, is a perfectly well-measured pillowcase from Martha Stewart. Not exactly vintage, but pretty. I was thinking that I might make Baby Bear a jacket with this one, but the pattern gives Hubby C some kind of vertigo. Not what you want when there's a baby to wrangle.
These aprons are both handmade. The blue one looks like a first sewing project; the seams are a mess. It seems a shame to tear them apart for fabric, but we already have a ton of aprons, and I only ever use one. I'm way too messy a cook for these little skirt-aprons to be of any use. I promise I'll do something honourable with them. I just couldn't leave them there at Value Village. Too sad. But ah, how I love the look of aprons on a clothesline!

The bottom two here are cotton bedsheets that I'll use to make some little summer dresses for Furious B, and maybe some comfy lounge pants. I find the pink and white candy-striper one a little bit sickly gross, but it's just her style. If I can swing it, I'll try a shirred sundress with elastic thread, like this one over at House On Hill Road. She'll flip.


I also bought some plaid wool suiting and a couple wool blankets, because I can't bear to leave old-style wool blankets behind, either. This one is made in Canada by Condon's in Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island. I have another of their blankets already and I love it, but I can't find any information on Condon's on the web. Anybody know anything about them? The other blanket is pretty ratty, but fit to be cut up for something else. I have a pattern somewhere for children's coats made out of Hudson's Bay blankets. I imagine that Hudson's Bay blankets didn't cost three hundred dollars when they put that pattern out.

We'll know early next week if the house we're trying to by has passed inspection (the clincher in whether or not the mortgage comes through). If it works out I will have the sweetest office/sewing room ever. I'm trying to keep cool about it, because if we find out that the roof is caving in or that the foundations are sinking we're back at square one. The house seems to be in excellent shape, aside from a back deck with a few soft boards, which we would probably get rid of anyway to make more room for growing things. I'll let myself get excited when the inspection is over. Until then, I'm just dreaming of a sewing room that looks rather like the one in the house we're looking to buy, with lots of light and a closet and a desk and a sewing table and an ironing board and no other purpose but allowing me to get some work done in relative peace.

I'm off now to put some more clothes on the line. It's a very windy fine day, so I'll probably get three loads done and dried. And I have about eight thousand dishes to wash. Given my headcoldly condition, I'm not good for much else: not sick enough to go to back to bed out of it, but sick enough to not be able to get any real work done. Blech. It helps, though, that Miss B is currently out in the yard wearing a Snow White dress, a Little Red Riding Hood cape, and blue rainboots with yellow spots, while Baby Bear is chewing the hell out of a wooden building toy. The cuteness factor might get me through the day.

Spring

For most of you in the northern hemisphere, it's been spring for a while now. Here on the Avalon, it's just starting. Gardens are just now going in. I haven't even started my tomatoes yet, knowing that they can't go in the ground until the end of June (and hoping that when I put them in it will be in a new garden in a new house... fingers still crossed).

It's also coming up on May 24 weekend, this year, confusingly enough, a week before May 24. Traditionally, this is the first camping weekend of the summer, although people often end up sleeping in their longjohns. The forecast is good this year, though.

Not that we have camping plans. Or any plans. Just waiting for house news, doing laundry, sewing, cooking, playing.

Photos tomorrow of my thrift store scores. Furious B is going to have some very sweet summer frocks to wear in a few weeks, and Baby Bear will turn into Toddler Bear in an adorable woolen coat.