Welcome spring!

Oh, seasonally appropriate weather. We are so glad you've finally arrived.

We can't come back 'til the water goes down...

It's mostly subsided, now, this spring's flood. Floods are weird like that. Hurricanes, tornadoes, even blizzards only last a day or two at most. But a flood comes in and often stays for weeks. We live upstream from my hometown, so even a week after it crested here, Hendrum still waited. Eventually there was only one road open to get into or out of town. And even there, water for miles and miles.

The photo above was taken last week, after the crest, when Hendrum again had 4 roads in and out. It's the east side of Highway 75, for those of you who're from these parts. Yes, the east side. The side furthest from the river. It's not easy to be a farmer around here this spring, I imagine. Or a rat, or a deer, or a raccoon, probably. (didja see how I used the mirror to illustrate the vastness of the wateriness? huh? didja?)

V's a city girl, of course, and so we measure our floodwaters by roadsign. Here's the mighty Red, from about the same time, slowly going back down (that's a parking ramp on the right side of the photo). When V and I first checked, only the top two inches of the stop sign were visible. Then the whole sign disappeared, and after a few days it started peeking out again, bit by bit. It's been fun to have a concrete way to measure the rise and fall that didn't involve homes of dear friends. 

It's tiring, these floodwaters.  I'm glad they're going, and I hope they stay away awhile.

Easter festivities

Without vinegar, this totally lacked the smell of egg dyeing, but since we're not sure V can smell anyway, what the heck.

Nothing like putting on your Pearl Jam t-shirt and dyein' some eggs on Easter morning.

Kirigami

While I wait for students to arrive for the conferences they signed up for, I work on the 2004 Kirigami calendar I bought at Barnes and Noble for 75% off 7 years ago. It makes me feel productive and I kinda think it's magic.

Plus it keeps me from grading, which, currently, is my main objective.

Puzzling

V got this puzzle for Christmas from our friend Nancy. This is the third time we've done it: we discuss the Addams family while we work, and it's really fun.

And it brings up memories I had long forgotten. When I was a girl, my family LOVED puzzles. Every holiday, all winter, and just about any time was a good time for a puzzle. I have few memories of my grandfather, who died when I was 6, but many of them involve him hovering around a dining room table, working on a puzzle. We had three or four puzzles we did every Christmas, and it helped us bide our time while we waited to open presents.

But it wasn't enough to just do puzzles, for some reason. My dad had all kinds of elaborate rules for puzzles, and puzzle doing was serious business. These rules were non-negotiable, and though I didn't enforce them with V(except for #1), I felt bad for breaking each rule.

Dewey's rules for puzzles:

1. No food or drink on the puzzle table. At all. Ever. If you need coffee or a snack, get a TV tray and put it up next to the puzzle table. Then consume it over the TV tray, not the puzzle. Also, you'll have to listen to the story about when Grandpa Art spilled coffee on a brand new puzzle one year.

2. When we open a puzzle, and dump out the pieces, we have to flip over all of them before we put anything together. Every piece. When I was too little to really do much else with puzzles, this was often my job, and my family was all about the 1000 piece ones. It took for freaking ever.

3. If any of the pieces were left together from the last time this puzzle was done (my aunt Barbie was notorious for just folding a puzzle up to put it away) everything must be taken apart and spread out. Just two pieces together? One on each end of the table. More than that, and we had to mix them in. 

4. Everyone gets to look at the cover of the box once. Just once. When someone new comes to start work on the puzzle, they get to look at, but the rest of us who've already seen it are expected to avert our eyes. And then we talk about those crazy people who use the box to place individual pieces, and don't follow the other rules, either. Heathens.

5. If, when the puzzle is finished, there are pieces missing, we look around carefully to see if there're any on the floor. If not, we take a slip of scrap paper, slide it under the puzzle, and trace the missing piece. Then we write on the slip a description of what's missing (i.e. blue hippo eye, or Santa's left elbow). This precious slip goes into the puzzle box so we know what's gone for next time.

I sure wish he was here to teach these to V, though.  I'm a pushover when it comes to made up rules, it turns out. Somewhere he's hollering at us everytime we look at the box, I just know it. I hope he understands.

Riverside conversation

Myra: "I hope there isn't a squirrel living in that tree with a hole."

Jen: "If there is, I bet he's pissed."

V: "And angry. And wet."

Playground with Grandma

V has so little fear. She loves to run and climb and jump and leap, and when she falls, she laughs and runs some more. Grandma's the one who takes her to the playground the most often, and pushes the swings, and takes the pictures, and helps her dust off her pants when she hits the ground.

It's a pretty good deal for everybody, really.

When you live in an ancient lake basin...

My mother likes to talk about Lake Agassiz. Maybe it's because she's a former elementary school teacher, but it's a little embarrassing, actually, to bring friends home from college and have them get Myra's lecture on The Big Lake. But she's right. I know she's right everytime we leave this valley, and my ears pop like I'm on an airplane because I'm not used to the elevation.

So it surprises no one that our basement (hell, everyone's basement in the eleven county area) takes on water this time of year. I honestly don't know why so many of us have basements, even. And every year I swear I'm going to be ready for it, and every year I get pissed off when it shows up. Really, really pissed off.

Today, I cursed the rain, my basement, the people who built this house, the people who sold us this house, my realtor, the guy at Menard's who sold me a lousy 8 gallon wetvac, my grandparents for settling in this area, the length of my own pants, my dad for having a stroke instead of staying well and living long enough to help me with this crap, gravity, those disgusting little centipedes that curl up and die all over my basement, linoleum, the nasty consistency of wet cardboard, and Lake Agassiz.

(I emptied the wetvac 5.5  times in 20 minutes. That's right. 44 gallons of water. The first photo is of my basement, just an hour after I got rid of 44 gallons of water. The second photo is my damn stupid long pants.)

I know, geologically, that this is what we deserve. But it doesn't mean I have to like it.

Springiness

This winter, I bought a bag of silver forks at Savers. They'd been drilled through the handles, and two of the seven were attached to this heavy silver ring. Today, V and I attached the rest, fashioned a wire hanger, and put it up in the backyard, hanging off the clothesline. It sounds really lovely, though the wind has to blow pretty hard to move them. And I like being the kind of family that has seven forks hanging in our backyard.

In the front yard, despite our profound negligence, the tulips are still coming. I am deeply grateful for such persistence.

The slugs and other crawly things were enjoying the fruits of our lack of labor.

And V enjoyed the slugs and crawly things.

I think these are daffodils. This time of year, I'm so pleased with my past self for taking the time to plant flowers. Because I need inspiration something fierce this time of year.

I hope spring is coming to your neighborhood, too! 

Busy and Angry and Tired, oh my!

Busy: It's the last four weeks of the semester, ladies and gentlemen. Yes, that's right. It means I'm up to my neck in grading, the laundry's piling up, and the car needs washed. And yet....I want to blog. I want to frolic and share and love all of you, and piss on this giant stack of student papers. (Well, not literally. Once, when we had a black miniature poodle named Zuul with some anger issues, he peed on some student papers. Those were fun to hand back). It's funny how that works, isn't it? How just when we feel totally tapped out we seee something shiny and suddenly have all the energy we could want.

Angry:  Oh, lord, I'm angry at snow. I've never been mad at snow before, that I can recall, though probably I have. But it just.will.not.leave. It's filthy and grey and going to flood our river all to hell but it's taking its own sweet time.We still have 6' high piles all around. And just when the driveway is almost clear, we get another 7 inches. Even Shaun's getting in on this anger party: a couple of weeks ago he came home just furious at the weather. So we talk about moving, and watch a movie or two, and then spring finally shows up and we forget about moving until next winter. Gak. Stupid sneaky snow.

Tired: I'm tired of being busy and angry, I guess. I'm looking forward to my sabbatical but it still seems entirely abstract and far away. I want to set out a bird feeder, and cook something new, but mostly I just want to take a nap. And blog.

Anyway, what a depressing, whiny post! Here, I will offer you something to cheer you up. V had two birthday parties to attend on Saturday, and we made the gifts for both. Here's the second party, at our local bowling alley (bowling parties are fun! I'd never been to one before!). We made our friend Oscar Costumes on a Stick, and he let his guests show them off with him.

I think they were a success! And isn't this a much happier ending? I thought so.

Languishing's first ever video post.

Let's hope we don't break the internet.

Messy crafty goodness

 I've seen this online in several places, and my Aunt Barbie and her ilk have done this on occassion in their card making adventures. So V and I decided to see what all the fuss was about.

 We started with a cheap can of shaving cream, and filled a couple of cookie sheets. V made a few snowpeople and some sort of merengue.

Then we dripped food coloring, and used various utensils to swirl. We just used the basic food coloring in those cool little droppers, and plastic forks and spoons.

V had the red and orange, and I had the blue and green. Then we laid sheets of drawing paper over the top, and pulled them back to see what we had wrought.

 Then we scraped off the shaving cream, and enjoyed the magic we'd created. Again and again and again!  It was messy as hell, and fun, and V got a bath  afterwards and we lived happily ever after.

I'm sorry we don't have any pictures of the finished product, but you get the idea. And we had lots of fun.

Never Eat Shredded Wheat

I love mnemonic devices. Love. When Shaun and I were first dating, I bought my first vintage Samsonite suitcase (which is a whole nother series of posts. Lord), and it had the initials EP on it. We spent a good 45 minutes imagining what they may have stood for, and it's one of my fondest memories of our early courtship (The two I remember most are Elvis Presley and Edible Panties).

The other day, V was asking what direction we were driving, so I explained north, south, east, and west to her. And then I shared how I remember them: Never Eat Shredded Wheat. Now, V and I both enjoy the occassional shredded wheat, so she was not comfortable with this sentence. Today, she put the letters N  E  S  W up on our fridge and worked on new sentences.

No Easter? Soon winter.
Never eat soft wombats.
No, Edith. Say what?
Never eat singing worms.

She read each dramatically, especially the one about Edith, and we laughed and laughed and laughed.

I can hardly wait until we get to Every Good Boy Does Fine. What are your favorite mnemonic devices? And have you seen this helpful online tool?

Edited for spelling. Thanks, Cousin!

Girl in a Cute Dress, part 2

 V needed a new spring jacket (she just grows and grows and grows!), so just like with her winter stuff, we went off to the thrift stores to see what we could find. Savers came through for us again.

First, this sweet vintage dress. It's a JCPenney's size 8, no iron, lightweight summer dress. It was hanging next to the knit dresses from Target and the Children's Place, which pill after 5-6 washes. This one looks brand new. Well, brand new 35 years ago. The ratty knit dresses were all $3.99 and up. This one was $1.99.

I am crazy about it! Those bows on the neckline just kill me. And V loves any dress in which she can pretend to be Alice in Wonderland.  It reminds me, in the colors only, really, of this dress from two years ago.

 Hopefully she'll be able to wear it for a few summers. Because I seriously love it.

 But wait, we weren't shopping for dresses, were we? Never fear. V was more than willing to try on jackets, which makes everything easier. This navy and pink number is her favorite. I like it because it has a hood, and it's a size 9-10, so by rolling the sleeves  just a little now, it should carry her through 2 springs. Maybe. It is from Target, several years ago, though it's not been worn much at all. It was $2.99.

Next, because we like camping, and I want her to be able to layer something over or under that windbreaker, and I'm a sucker for jean jackets, we got this one, too. It's American Girl brand, and we paid $3.99.

There you have it, ladies and gentlemen. Our most recent Savers trip was definitely a success: sweet vintage summer dress and two spring jackets for less than $10. I just love when I walk into a thrift store thinking, "hm, maybe we can find..."and then we do.

Stu-stu-studio.

As part of our life restructuring, we've hired a professional organizer. She was fantastic, non-judgemental but firm, and totally creative. We got rid of approximately 24 garbage bags of stuff for donating, another 9 or so bags of trash, and that was only on the main floor.  We hope to have her back again in a few months to help us get through the upstairs (i.e. my clothing), if I can't do it on my own. It was worth every penny we paid her.

But still, I love stuff. I mean, I really love stuff. It's not right. If I lived alone, I would probably past the point of that show Hoarders. I don't love new stuff, or crappy stuff. I love cool old stuff that smells like someone else's basement, or jars of washers and bolts, or bags of buttons. I love old books, dolls, belts, and ribbon. Oh, I do love ribbon.

As an olive branch, Shaun said the organizer did not have to tackle the basement (an olive branch to me or to her, I'm not sure yet). So everything down there is my fault, and my problem, and my haven. Wanna have a look?

 I keep my needles in the lampshade. And my brass cats, too. Obviously.

The light in this room is fluorescent, so my 6-armed lamp helps with lighting (as does the needle-lampshaded lamp). The laundry line above has a postcard of the Ingalls family, photos of me and Jess and me and V, paintings by V, and the Queen of Spades. The two other prints, nearest the window, I won years ago from The Black Apple (We have at least two prints by Emily on every floor of our house). And on top is a lovely doll using a sewing machine, from Wee Wonderfuls.

 This is the southwest corner, with photos I've taken, an Easter card from our friend Kathy, my embossing tool, some purse handles, and a fantastic wicker-ish purse I bought while garage saling with my sister a couple of years ago. It was $3, and I had to promise I'd hang it up right away before she let me bring it home.

 A corner of my machine, a Shark. I love baby food jars, especially wee ones. These seem to have sequins and buttons in them. I love little ceramic containers and vintage tins, and there appears to be a wee crow bar in this photo, too. Don't ask.The rubber stamp says "Asylum for the Chronic Insane," and I bought it from Rubber Baby Buggy Bumpers (now owned by these folks) some time ago.

 The needle/cat lamp, further back. The orange and blue shelf is one my daddy made with leftovers from some great bookshelves he made us, and the shelf is full of things I like: stencils, an octopus V and I made when she was 3, photos, a postcard of Marilyn Monroe, a birthday card from my brother-in-law Brad, a jar full of beads, some buttons...the nails hold supplies (E6000, dollmaking needles, teddy bear eyes, pins, a flamingo streamer thing...). The print in the cream frame is another from the Black Apple, and the robot print in the lower left corner was a thank you card from an order I made to Wee Wonderfuls. It's a knitting robot! The photo in the upper right is me at Glensheen, from this trip.

 My pièce de résistance: I  took one of those trouser hangers, one that's supposed to allow you to hang 4 or 5 pairs of pants, and loaded up my ribbon collection. It hangs from a hook in the ceiling, just to the left of my sewing machine, so I can always see what's available, get inspired, and easily cut off what I need. The last bits or pieces of ribbon and trim that I buy off a spool get hung up on the final rungs, alongside a birthday card from my friend Crystal, ca. 2008 or so.

This shot showcases some of my favorite ribbons, ones that make my teeth hurt with love. Lavender velvet? Rainbow grosgrain? Yellow and red tulips? That crazy green, orange, and yellow on black? Mercy, I love them all.

These are bits of my beloved sewing room. And I've only shown you the organized parts: note you haven't seen the floor. Mostly that's because the floor is buried under 2-3 feet of fabric and other sundry items: it just doesn't make for the most compelling photos. Every few months I get a hankerin' to hunker down there, with my supplies and lamps and ribbons. Come on down and visit me, sometime. I promise most everything will still be there, so long as I can keep the organizer away. 

For Kari Jane

I first met Kari in the summer of 1991, on a visit to Morris. Her laugh was infectious, and when I learned we'd be floormates, I knew we'd soon be friends. She was the kind of friend that I would've lived with, the kind of friend I could call out of the blue after two months and it would feel as if we'd never been apart. I can still hear her bubbling laugh.

Sixteen years ago, Kari was in a terrible car accident. She survived for nearly a month on life support, and at first we all hoped...but while her face and bones healed, it became clear in that month that her brain would not. She died January 9, 1995.

She would've been 38 today. I miss her so.

I wrote this poem for her in 1997.

ELEGY
   for Kari Jane, 16 March 1973 to 9 January 1995

I am with you in the windy light
when the voice of our last tear is silenced
with nothing to remember
nothing to remember us by.
             --Mark Vinz, "Elegy: from a North Country Journal"

You braced for the impact.
It crushed both your wrists
and left knee, snapped both ankles.
Thrown against the windshield,
your body yielded,
let the bones around your left eye
shatter in eighteen places.
The glass tore your cheek through
to your teeth inside.
Your corn silk hair
soaked up blood
until the rescue squad wrapped your head
in a towel to hold the skin in place.

Six months after the funeral
I woke up, sobbing, dreaming
of your body, frozen, embalmed.
Three weeks before the accident,
you taught me how to roll down hills.
I held your hand and promised
to always love you,
swore I would be godmother to your children,
would room with you in the nursing home.

Instead I was your pallbearer,
not your bridesmaid,
thankful they let me escort you to your grave.

Spring break

So I'm on spring break and I have a mild to moderate amount of grading to do (about 70  three page essays), and a dining room table to clear off, and crafty things, and oh this always happens during spring break, when I start to feel stressed that I'm not getting enough out of every moment or doing enough around the house or accomplishing the things I always hope to accomplish on break. And this year it's even stranger because V's just getting over strep and Shaun just completed his 2 weeks in partial and it's so good to have us all together and feeling well but it's also so strange it's almost confusing and I should be blogging more and taking more pictures and so it goes.

My friend Friday

Friday is the sweetest of boys with the tenderest of hearts. He also has a fantastic belly laugh and a talent for details, imagination, and hugs and kisses. "Jen, this is my new toy." He just wants to tell me what he's up to, what his new ideas are, and how much he likes celery. He'll probably be an English major when he grows up. Or a trucker. I am so happy to know him.

Lunch with V

We were running late, so we grabbed hotdogs at the gas station (I know. Nutritious). She crawled up in the front seat to eat and be goofy.

She put on my sunglasses, and I told her to act famous. I'm not sure where she got this idea of fame, but I like it.

Parenthood is exhausting, but man, it's hilarious, too.